The riotous crowds celebrated in the streets for hours. It took a long time for Naaman and his family to make it to their house. Men in the street kept stopping the commander to congratulate him. They assured him that his disease was not a problem. Some even held their sons up to see the commander's face, telling them the white patches were marks of valor. Suddenly what Naaman had feared would be cause for humiliation became a sign of courage. For weeks little boys who played war in the streets, covered parts of their faces with mud, pretending to be disfigured, as was Naaman.

As the weeks lengthened, though, the celebrity surrounding Naaman's disease lessened. Some children who had not been told the story of the dramatic entrance into the city would whisper and point when Naaman was in public. Some of the troops became restless under Naaman's leadership. When he inadvertently called one of his soldiers by the wrong name, rumors began that the disease was beginning to affect Naaman's mind.

One night about a year after returning home, Naaman told Maacah, "I am considering resigning my post in the army and joining the old men who congregate at the gate and gossip the day away."

"Why?" Maacah asked, perplexed. "You are not in your dotage yet. I think you've just reached your prime," she said coquettishly, batting her eyelashes alluringly.

"Perhaps," Naaman responded, smiling despite himself. "But you're just a besotted woman filled with romantic nonsense. Out there," he said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the palace, "they think my disease is beginning to lessen my mental prowess. The troops are becoming impatient. It's best that I take action before the King is forced to reconsider his support of me."

"But, Naaman," Maacah said, "it hasn't been long since they hailed you as a conquering hero, marching into the city with their faces painted to match yours. Surely you misinterpret the unrest."

"No, I'm afraid not," Naaman replied. "There are always those who ambitiously seek the commander's post. They take advantage of any small error and use gossip to make it seem gargantuan. Many of my men are still loyal and would mourn my resignation. But it's better that I step down while I am still respected, while I can be instrumental in selecting my successor."

"But such an action wouldn't be good for you," Maacah said. "You wouldn't be happy sitting idle among the gossips at the city gates."

"I know, love," Naaman admitted. "But what is best for me may not be what is best for Damascus."

"Perhaps you should try a foreign healer first," Maacah suggested. "Perhaps someone outside Aram will have a cure for the disease."

"You know better, wife," Naaman responded gruffly. "You know that the King has already exhausted all of the healing expertise at his disposal." Taking his disfigured hands and framing his mask-like countenance, Naaman leaned toward Maacah thrusting his face in front of her startled eyes. "Look at me, Maacah. I am not going to get better. This is how I will live out my days. No healer can help me."

"No ordinary healer, perhaps," Maacah admitted. "But Naaman there is one you haven't tried." Hurrying to finish her speech before he dismissed her, she spoke rapidly. "Baara said there is a prophet in Israel, a man who lives in Samaria. She said that he has healed many diseases with the help of Yahweh. She believes he could heal you."

"Now, Maacah," Naaman answered in exasperation. "You know we have tried everything. You know that Baara makes fantastic claims for her god. You also know that she suffered exhausting nightmares for months after moving into our household because her god didn't save her family from my soldiers. Her fantasies may bring her comfort, but don't you get caught up in them and send me off on some wild goose chase."

"I wouldn't bring this to your attention under normal circumstances, Naaman," Maacah pleaded, "but Baara's logic has echoed in my mind for some time now. I have no answer for what she asked, and I doubt you will either."

"Okay," Naaman said indulgently. "Tell me Baara's logic. I know you'll only follow me around with pleading, sad eyes until I hear you out. When you get that look, I wish you were a nag. Words I can tune out, but that look gets to me every time."

Nodding, a slight smile on her face, Maacah answered, "She said that reliance on any god requires faith. She pointed out that you have nothing to lose by seeking the prophet's help, and everything to gain. If she is right and this prophet can cure you, you can live out your term as commander with no one questioning your ability. If she is wrong, you have lost nothing and can return home and retire. It's true her god did not save her, but he did give her a peace in captivity that I can't understand. She says he sent you to save her from being ravaged by your men. You know the dream you had of a finger beckoning to Zipporah and the being of light after the fire? Baara saw a similar apparition in a dream. In her dream, the finger beckoned you to her aid. She says the finger belongs to Yahweh. Her religious tradition includes stories of both triumph and heartache. Why not give her god a chance. You have nothing to lose," she ended, placing her hand on her husband's arm and looking beseechingly into his eyes.

"I suppose you're right," Naaman said with a sigh. "I don't really want to give up my command. I will try this one last time for a cure. But if it fails, you must promise to leave me alone. You must support me in my resignation."

"As you wish," Maacah said contritely while inside her spirit exulted. She fervently hoped Baara was right, and she was not giving in to false hope.

"What is the name of this prophet who has the ear of Baara's god?" Naaman asked. "If I am to seek his help, I need to know who I'm going to petition. And where does he live? In the city of Samaria or somewhere in the territory?"

"I haven't gotten particulars from Baara," Maacah admitted. "She told me of this prophet some months back and, like you, I dismissed it as wishful thinking. But the more I thought about her logic, the more I wondered if I should tell you about this man."

"Well, if I'm going to seek out this prophet, I'll need additional information. Send for Baara," Naaman concluded.

Baara was on the roof weaving when Tirzah's nanny came and told her Maacah wanted to see her in her bedchamber. Since it was just after the mid-day repast, Baara hurried to her mistress, fearing she had become afflicted with another headache. When she quickly entered the room through the partially open door, saying "What is it, mistress Maacah, have you need of a massage?" she was startled to find Naaman present. Stopping abruptly, Baara began to back away slowly stammering, "I'm sorry, mistress. When you summoned me, I thought you might be suffering from a headache. I should have knocked before entering."

"No, Baara," Maacah responded. "You have no need to apologize. In the months Naaman was away, I bade you enter without knocking when summonsed. Since his return, I haven't required you to knock during the day. And this time, he is here because we both need to talk to you. So come on in and close the door."

Closing the door behind her, Baara stood just inside the room, head bowed and eyes downcast in a posture of submission. "What service can I render, mistress?" she asked.

Naaman answered her query. "You may look up, Baara. You have done nothing wrong. Maacah has told me that you mentioned a prophet in Samaria who can heal my leprosy. She has convinced me that I should go to this prophet for help, but I need more information. What is the man's name and where can I find him?"

Looking up, Baara answered nervously, "I cannot be of much help, master." Frowning in concentration, she continued, "I can't remember his name. I know that he received the mantle of Elijah when Yahweh took him. I think his name was similar. But the priests in Samaria should know his name. As to where, I guess you'll just have to go to Samaria and ask."

"So, you don't know if this prophet lives in the city of Samaria or somewhere in the territory?" Naaman asked.

"No, master," Baara admitted. "But Israel isn't a large country. I'm sure the prophet will be fairly easy to locate."

"Very well, Baara, you may go back to your chores," Naaman said dismissing the girl.

Turning to Maacah, Naaman said, "I don't know, Maacah. This information is rather nebulous. I'm not certain if it's worth pursuing."

"But, Naaman," Maacah interjected, "as Baara said, the country is small. There is only one prophet who received the mantle of Elijah. Perhaps you can get our King to write a letter of introduction to the King of Israel. Surely the King would know who this prophet is and where he resides. Besides, you made me a promise," she reminded.

"I can see you're not going to let this drop," Naaman said with a sigh. "Very well. I'll seek an audience with the King. If he gives his blessing, I'll travel to Samaria and inquire about this prophet. I'm keeping my promise. Remember that I also elicited a promise from you. If I do all I can to locate this prophet, you must let the matter drop."

The next day, Naaman sought an audience with the King of Aram. He told him of Baara's claim that a prophet living in Samaria could cure him.

"I don't know if what this Israelite maiden claims is true," Naaman admitted. "But none of our healers or our allies' healers have been successful. Some of my men are becoming restless under my leadership. I would like your permission to seek out this prophet and see if he can help."

"By all means, go," the King responded. "We must try all avenues to rid you of this disease. I'll send a letter to the King of Israel. I'll also provide you with payment for this prophet. If he can cure you, all of Damascus will be in his debt."

A few days later, Naaman left for Samaria taking with him the letter and the reward. He carried with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold and ten sets of clothing. The handsome reward was an indication of the high esteem in which the King held Naaman and reflected his sincere desire for the commander to be healed.

Before he left, Naaman held Maacah tightly and buried his face in her hair. "I'm doing this for you, my love," he said. "I want to be whole again, for you."

When she tried to protest, Naaman shushed her. "I know that you love me as I am. I know that the disease doesn't scare you. But I want you to see again the handsome man you married, not in your mind, but in reality. Wish me luck, my love. Have Baara say a prayer to this Yahweh."

Leaving his home, Naaman mounted his chariot. His trusted servant Hegai and a contingency of loyal soldiers dressed in civilian clothes accompanied him. They traveled with horses and chariots to Samaria in the land of Israel to seek the prophet of whom Baara had spoken. No expense was spared for Naaman, the King of Aram's greatest living warrior.

When the King of Israel was presented with the epistle from the King of Aram, he was distraught. The letter was short and to the point, saying, "With this letter I am sending my servant Naaman to you so that you may cure him of leprosy." (II Kings 5:6)

In the presence of his advisers, the King tore his robes and ranted, "Am I God? Can I kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of leprosy? He is trying to pick a quarrel with me," the King concluded. (II Kings 5:7) "Naaman is the commander who recently led the King of Aram's troops in a year long, but ultimately successful, siege of Joppa in Philstia. His renown as a warrior is legendary. He has led the troops of Aram in one successful battle after another over the 30 years he has served the King. What am I to do? No one can cure leprosy? Make this man comfortable. Ply him with our hospitality. Buy me some time while you decide what I must do. We must find a way to placate Naaman and send him home still leprous, without angering the King of Aram."

During the next few days, the rumor mill in Samaria was rampant. Soon everyone knew that a foreign commander was in the city seeking a cure for leprosy. The advisers and priests were called to the palace, but no one had an answer for the king. Then a message came from the Prophet Elisha who lived in Dothan. His servant, Gehazi, delivered the message to the distraught King.

After being ushered into the presence of the King, Gehazi said, "I bring you a message from my master, the Prophet Elisha. He asks why you have torn your robes. Send this man Naaman to Elisha, and he will know that there is truly a prophet in Israel." (II Kings 5:8)

Relieved to be free of the burden of fulfilling the demand of the King of Aram, the King of Israel recalled the foreign commander to the palace.

"I'm sorry you've had to wait several days for my answer," the King told Naaman. "You're to go to Dothan. A prophet named Elisha lives there. Do what he tells you, and you will be cured of your disease. His servant Gehazi has traveled to Samaria to guide you to his master. That is why we've delayed so long."

That same day, Naaman took Gehazi into his own chariot where he and Hegai rode together. He bade him guide them to his master. When they arrived, Gehazi instructed Naaman to wait while he went in and announced the commander's arrival to Elisha. In just a few minutes Gehazi returned and said, "My master said to tell you to go and wash seven times in the Jordan. He said if you do this, your flesh will be restored, and you will be cleansed." (II Kings 5:10)

"What?" Naaman questioned. "Will your master not come out himself and talk with me?"

"No," Gehazi replied. "He said that is unnecessary. He has received instruction from Yahweh on your behalf. If you do what he tells you, you will be cured."

Grabbing his whip and striking his horse, Naaman commanded the animal to move. As the chariot thundered away, he raged at Hegai, "I thought he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of Yahweh, his God, and wave his hand over me and demand my leprosy leave. I am not going to bathe in the filthy Jordan River. It is nothing but a muddy stream. Are not the rivers of Abana and Pharphar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters in Israel? Couldn't I wash in them and be cleansed?" (II Kings 5:11-12)

Taking the reigns from the angry commander and slowing the horses, Hegai soothed, "Perhaps you are overreacting. You know you have been like a father to me and so I speak to you frankly as would your son if he were here." Looking heavenward as though for wisdom, he continued, "If the prophet had commanded you to do some great thing, wouldn't you have tried to carry out his instructions? So why not carry out his simple instructions to wash and be cleansed. You've come this far, what have you got to lose?" (II Kings 5:13)

As Hegai spoke, Namaan turned to look in the direction of the Jordan River. He saw a streak of light come from the heavens, seeming to land not far away. Suddenly, a vivid remembrance of the dream he had before going off to battle overpowered his senses, drowning out Hegai's placating voice. In his mind Naaman heard again the conversation between the angel Michael and Baara's god.

"I know You intended for him to be cured," Michael said. "But he would not cooperate. He refused to do what You asked."

"Give him another chance," the deep voice of Yahweh said. "Speak to him."

"I can't," the angel answered. "He refuses to acknowledge my presence. He will not listen to me."

"Then try speaking to someone else, someone close to him," the voice responded.

"Very well," Michael answered. "But I don't know why you are so patient with this one. Why don't you leave him to the ravages of the disease?"

"Would you have me show less patience than my human servants?" the voice questioned. But then the voice added a phrase Naaman had not heard in the original dream: "Baara continues to pray for his healing. You must try once more."

This time when the scene in Naaman's mind changed and Michael strode down the banks of a strange, dirty river towards a group retreating in the distance, Naaman didn't have to strain to see whom he was approaching. Naaman knew to whom Michael was supposed to relay the message. He was the man who in his arrogance was defying a very patient god.

Coming out of his trance, Naaman commanded Hegai, "Stop the chariot! Turn around! We are going the wrong way; the Jordan lies behind us. You're right, Hegai. I'm being foolish in my anger. I have become arrogant, expecting even prophets and gods to acknowledge me as 'the great commander.' Take me to the Jordan."

When they reached the river, Naaman told his men to stay back, all but Hegai, who he told to accompany to him to the edge of the river and hold his clothes. Removing his turban and sandals, and stripping off his garments until he stood only in his tunic, Naaman exposed as much of his ravaged body as modesty allowed.

"Wish me god speed," Naaman said to his servant as he waded into the muddy river. Holding his breath near the edge of the river, he dunked himself in the water. Coming up, he looked at his arms and hands, hoping to see some regression of the disease. Since it had come on slowly, he thought perhaps part of the disease would recede with each dunking. Seeing no lessening of the disease on his hands and arms, Naaman lifted his legs out of the water one at a time, but they to remained the same. Running his fingers over his face and feeling the raised edges of the disease, he turned to Hegai and asked, "Is the diseased portion of my face any smaller?"

"No, master," Hegai replied. "But remember, the prophet said to dunk in the river seven times. You have only gone under once."

"True," Naaman responded. He quickly dunked himself twice in succession and then looked again for signs of healing, but the disease remained the same.

"Perhaps you should go farther out," Hegai suggested. "You're close to the shore where the water is shallow. You may not be going completely under the water."

"That is possible," Naaman admitted, moving further out into the dirty river. He then submerged himself a fourth time allowing himself to float momentarily on the surface as a dead man would. When he came up, though, he was still diseased. In frustration, Naaman complained, "This is not working. I'm going to get it over with quickly." So saying, he immersed himself in the river three more times in quick succession, coming up gasping for air.

When he did, Hegai shouted, "Look, master. Your skin is clear! Why it looks like that of a newborn child; it is perfectly clear. There are no blemishes whatsoever."

In excitement, Naaman held his hands in front of his face. Putting both of his hands to his face, he felt for the rough spots that signaled the edge of the diseased places, but his skin was perfectly smooth. Lifting his legs, Naaman saw that his skin looked like new. Running a few steps toward shore and then falling to his knees in the water, Naaman raised his hands toward heaven and cried, "Thank you, Yahweh. Now I know that Baara is right. You are truly the God of the Universe. I don't deserve Your loving-kindness. I will serve You, and only You, the remainder of my days."

Standing to his feet and running out of the water, Naaman threw his arms around the startled Hegai.

"Thank you, my friend," he exclaimed. "Thank you for speaking frankly to me and causing me to turn back to the Jordan. Without your encouragement, I might have gone home still ravaged by disease."

Taking his robe from Hegai and waving it like a flag, Naaman ran towards his gawking men. "Look!" he cried dropping the robe and holding out his clear hands. "They're clear, completely clear. And look!" he exclaimed holding up one foot and then another. "Nothing! No discoloration. They look as clean as the day I was born." Passing his hand across his face and running his fingers through his hair, he exulted, "There are no rough spots. I'm cured, completely cured! Yahweh has removed my disease entirely. I am no longer a leper. He is truly an awesome God."

Finally donning his robe, sandals and turban, Naaman jumped into his chariot. "Come," he commanded. "We must return to the man of God. We must take him the gifts from the King of Aram. We must show him what a mighty work of healing his God has accomplished."

When they arrived at the house of Elisha, Naaman jumped from the chariot and ran to the door where a smiling Gehazi greeted him. "Please," Naaman said humbly, "ask your master to come out and view the miracle your God has accomplished."

When Elisha appeared, Naaman stood before him. Holding out his hands, he said, "I know you did not see me when I came to your abode earlier today. But your servant and mine can tell you these hands were almost totally white. My face was disfigured with grotesque white splotches that made children cringe and women look away in horror. My limbs were covered with the unsightly sores as well. But now, look, my skin is like new. There are no signs of disease. Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel." Motioning to Hegai and the other servants to bring forward the precious metals and the clothing, he bowed low saying, "Please accept now a gift from your humble servant and his King."

"As surely as Yahweh lives, whom I serve, I will not accept a thing," Elisha replied. (II Kings 5: 15-16) "Yahweh has chosen to heal you. Your recognition of Him as God is sufficient."

"Please," Naaman pleaded. "Let me show my gratitude to you, Yahweh's servant. Take at least a set of clothing."

"No," Elisha replied. "My reward is your thankfulness to Yahweh."

Although Naaman tried to get Elisha to accept some of the King's gifts, he was adamant in his refusal. Finally Naaman concluded, "If you will not, please let me, your servant, be given as much earth as a pair of mules can carry, for your servant will never again make burnt offerings and sacrifices to any other god but Yahweh, my Lord. But may the Lord forgive your servant for this one thing: When my master enters the temple of Rimmon to bow down and he is leaning on my arm and I bow there also – when I am thus forced to bow in the temple of Rimmon, may Yahweh forgive your servant for this."

"Go in peace," Elisha said. (II Kings 5:16-19) "You may take all the dirt you want, but it's unnecessary. Yahweh is not bound by geography. He is a God to be worshipped by anyone and everyone. All who call on his name will be welcomed. You do not need dirt. You do not need a temple. You do not need idols, for His likeness cannot be captured by man. Build an altar and worship Him in spirit and in truth. That is all He asks."

Despite Elisha's caution, Naaman had his men dig up soil and load it on the back of the mules. Climbing into his chariot, Naaman turned and started the journey home to Damascus. He drove slowly savoring the feel of the wind against his face. As they traveled he marveled aloud at the mercy of this foreign god who had shown him grace and loving-kindness.

Hearing something strange in the wind, Hegai turned and looked back. Shading his eyes and looking in the distance, he said, "Master, someone is trying to catch us. I believe it's the servant of the Prophet Elisha."

Stopping the chariot, Naaman turned to watch the figure running toward them from the horizon, barely recognizable as a human waving his arms. For some minutes, they watched as Gehazi ran toward the chariot. When he reached them, he leaned against the carriage gasping for air. Naaman alighted from the chariot and offered the winded servant a drink. Then he said, "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is all right," Gehazi panted. "My master sent me to tell you that two young men from the company of prophets have just come from the hill country of Ephraim. They are poor and in need of clothing. Please give me a talent of silver and a set of clothing for each of them. While my master would take nothing for himself, he makes this request on behalf of his brethren."

"By all means," Naaman responded. "Take what you have requested. And take two talents of silver for yourself, for your effort on behalf of the two young prophets. I know you had to run long and hard to catch us. We have chariots and horses, and you're on foot."

"Thank you," Gehazi said. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for recognizing my sacrifice and for helping the two young prophets."

After Gehazi left, Naaman climbed back into his chariot beside Hegai. "That was strange," he said. "We must have just missed the two young prophets. For him to catch us, we couldn't have been gone long when they arrived. They must have blurted out their plight on arrival for the prophet to send his servant so quickly to catch us."

Naaman was never to know that Gehazi had made up the whole story because he was filled with greed at the sight of the riches his master was turning away. Overcome by covetousness, he plotted to take some of the wealth for himself without Elisha's knowledge. Naaman would never learn that his leprous disease would curse the hapless Gehazi for the remainder of his life. For when Gehazi returned and Elisha questioned his whereabouts, Gehazi's lie was insufficient.

Elisha asked Gehazi, "Where have you been?"

When Gehazi demurred, saying he had had gone nowhere, the Prophet called his bluff. "Was not my spirit with you when the man got down from the chariot to meet you?" Elisha asked him. "Is this the time to take money or clothes? Naaman's leprosy will cling to you and your descendants forever."

At this pronouncement, Gehazi's skin turned white as snow and from that day on, he was accursed with leprosy. (II Kings 5: 20-27)