Several months ago, a team of pastors and lay leaders with the Little Falls Area Ministerial Association began creating a common worship service to engage at the intersection of mental health and faith. Area churches were invited to use the resources of scripture, songs, and prayers in their church’s worship service on November 10.
I was honored to be asked to preach at First Lutheran Church while Pastor Beth Pottratz is on maternity leave. She along with pastors Tony Romaine, Micheal Hartwell, and Candace Adams, Sheila Watercott with the Little Falls Area schools and I, played a key role in developing the materials around the theme of wading into the waters of mental health as communities of faith.
Two scripture passages were highlighted. The story of Naaman’s healing of leprosy in the Jordan (2Kings 5:1-19) and the blind man whose sight was restored by Jesus (John 9:1-12).
Let’s look at the story of Naaman, commander of Syria’s army. He was in high favor with the king, enjoying the rewards of power afforded him. And he had leprosy.
Naaman, a seemingly powerful man, is powerless over a disease that would get him kicked out of community, out of power, leaving him destitute and alone with all the mental health issues that come not only with the disease, but with excommunication.
The king of Syria is also powerless over Naaman’s disease.
Enter a young woman from Israel, kidnapped by Syrian warriors on a raiding expedition and enslaved to Naaman’s wife.
She had every right to hold her plight against Naaman and to witness his suffering and loss of a place in the community as just. Instead, she plays a key role in his healing. She looks on Naaman says, “Oh, if only my master could meet the prophet of Samaria.” Rather than judgment, she offers compassion. Naaman’s power comes from wielding might. Her power is love. She is not happy to see him suffer.
Naaman goes to the king with the young woman’s idea and the king sends Naaman on a journey to Israel. There, Naaman hands a letter to their king demanding the king of Israel heal Naaman. The king becomes so enraged at the idea, he shreds his clothes. The prophet Elisha gets wind and tells the king to send Naaman to see him.
Elisha tells Naaman to dunk in the Jordan river 7 times to be healed. Naaman’s response is to become “mad as a hornet” that Elisha didn’t heal him the way Naaman expected. Naaman stomps off in a huff, refusing healing.
And here, I think, is the crux of the story about mental health and community. As Naaman’s community watches him storm off, they don’t cower in a corner or huddle in a gossip circle, they go after him. They challenge him to accept the invitation to healing. They meet Naaman where he is, without judging, blaming or fixing.
Naaman wades into the water and is completely healed. His skin looks like a newborn’s when he emerges.
People with mental health struggles are often at the mercy of people with more power than they have – and often are led to healing by those closest to them, people with or without power, who care deeply for their wholeness.
One in four people struggle with mental illness. Today, that number could be higher. That means as you look down the grocery store aisle, along church pews, along vehicles on Highway 10, and within your own family, every fourth person is struggling mentally. It could be brought on by physical struggles, trauma, death, divorce, family alienation, and so much more, compounding the mental struggle with other difficulties. One of those people may be you.
To those struggling with anxiety, depression, OCD, PTSD, eating disorders, schizophrenia, and more, we might be tempted to say things like: You just need to pray harder, you need more faith, you just need to get out there and do something, and God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. We might say these things to people who already feel like they are drowning, aware they stand to losing everything that society says gives them dignity.
Let’s pause and acknowledge that every human being is inherently dignified. No matter their struggles or pain. Every human being.
These voices of judgment – in our head and outside of it – can keep us from seeking the help we need; keep us from asking for help for the small things, until the small things become big things.
Had Naaman been able to fight his way to health, or had the kings been able to legislate health, he may not have listened to his community. It’s in the face of his own helplessness that Naaman listens.
Can we hear this as a call to become involved with another in compassion and care?
Let’s finish with Naaman’s response. After his healing, Naaman proclaims that he now knows there is only one God. A God who brings healing through, in and with community.
Naaman’s path to healing involved relationship, compassion, and stepping into the waters at the encouragement, support and challenge of his community.
We are all of us part of a larger web of life wading into healing waters. Perhaps you’re the person who listens to another talk about their struggles, or refers them to a qualified therapist, or takes them to the doctor for a medical checkup. Perhaps you are the one who offers kindness to the woman in line who is taking a bit too long or the man hobbling down the aisle slowing your progress. Perhaps, you remember throughout the day that we are all struggling with something and offer a smile to a stranger.
Like the young woman who had a story of pain of her own, we can reach out in care for another, wading into healing waters flowing from the Source of Love.
