II Kings 5:1-3, 7-15; Psalm 111; II timothy 2:8-15; Luke 17:11-19
The Rev. Candice B. Frazer
Naaman was a great army commander. He also had leprosy. Despite his affliction, he was clearly well respected—by his troops, his king, and even the young servant girl who served his wife. Each of them plays a role in his healing. In short, Naaman had a supportive community that stood by him, even when his circumstances were as bleak as they could be.
It is the servant girl who first mentions the prophet Elisha in Israel, telling Naaman’s wife that he could cure her husband. The king of Aram, whom Naaman serves, writes a letter to the king of Israel asking him to allow Naaman to travel and seek healing. And when Naaman hesitates later, it is his own men—his soldiers—who urge him not to reject the prophet’s simple instruction just because it wasn’t difficult or dramatic. They encourage him to follow Elisha’s words so that he might be healed.
This community is no small thing.
In biblical times, and even into the present day, leprosy was a source of social isolation and shame. The disease not only caused physical deterioration but also disfigurement. As it progressed, a person would waste away until they appeared more like a walking corpse than a living being. They were often met with fear, revulsion, and disgust—even by those who once loved them.
In ancient Israel, those who showed signs of leprosy were excluded from the marketplace, from the synagogue, and essentially from the fabric of society. They could walk the streets, but not approach others. Once their symptoms cleared, they were required to show themselves to the priests and, only after a period of inspection, could they be allowed to reenter communal life.
This context is the backdrop of the story of the ten lepers who encounter Jesus. He is walking through a village in Samaria—ironically, the same region where Naaman had once met Elisha—when ten lepers approach and ask for mercy. These ten, clearly outcasts, had formed a community of their own. And they would have needed to. In a society built on mutual dependence for survival, lepers were left vulnerable. Some had families who might bring them food, but many did not. They had no protection from the elements or from the dangers of the countryside. They were sick. Isolated. Unsafe.
In such a world, forming community wasn’t just about emotional support—it was about survival. These ten lepers supported one another. Among them was a Samaritan—a foreigner, considered an outsider even among outcasts. This small group, marginalized and feared, would have roamed the countryside, likely stirring discomfort not because they posed any danger, but because their presence was a stark reminder of how fragile and broken the world could be.
But here’s the thing: even though both Naaman and the ten lepers had supportive communities, neither community could provide healing on its own. They could offer encouragement, safety, and companionship—but not a cure. Healing in both stories comes from God. And it requires something more: faith.
When Naaman finally reaches Elisha’s house, he doesn’t receive the grand reception he likely expected. Elisha doesn’t even come to the door—instead, he sends a servant to tell Naaman to wash seven times in the Jordan River. That’s it. Naaman is offended. He wonders why he couldn’t just bathe in the rivers back home. He misses the point: the healing isn’t about the water; it’s about trust. Elisha had said, “Let him come to me, that he may learn there is a prophet in Israel.” This wasn’t a medical treatment—it was a testament to faith. When Naaman finally does bathe in the Jordan, he is healed. And more importantly, he returns to Elisha and declares, “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.” His healing leads him to a proclamation of faith.
The Samaritan leper who returns to Jesus is no different. All ten ask for mercy, and all ten are healed. But the healing comes as they go—not all at once. It requires them to step forward in faith, trusting that something will change. Only one, the Samaritan, turns back. He falls at Jesus’ feet, praising God. Jesus points this out, asking, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?” And then he says something critical: “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”
The Greek word used here for “made you well” can also be translated as “saved.” This is about more than physical healing. Just like Naaman, this Samaritan leper receives spiritual wholeness because of his response in faith and gratitude.
So these stories—Naaman and the ten lepers—they’re not just about miraculous cures. They are about faith. They are about the people around us who help build us up, remind us of our worth, and encourage us to receive God’s grace. They are about how we, too, come to recognize and respond to the mercy of God.
None of us journeys toward healing or faith alone. Naaman had a king, servants, and soldiers who stood by him. The Samaritan leper had a community of fellow sufferers who stayed with him in his pain. When healing came, it came from God—but community prepared them to receive it.
I wonder if this is not exactly what we are called to be as the church: a people who walk with others, especially when they are struggling; a people who remind others of their dignity when the world tells them they are unworthy; a people who offer shelter and encouragement and hope, so that when God moves in someone’s life, they are ready to receive it—not with suspicion, but with gratitude and faith.
Because the truth is, faith makes us well—and community makes us whole.
When we are the ones hurting, reaching out to our community can help us keep going. It reminds us that we are not alone. And when others are hurting, we are called to be that community for them: to embrace, encourage, and lift them up.
That is the way of love.
And love heals.
Amen.