Donor’s Choice

Trinity Presbyterian Church of Bethesda
10.14.07; Rev. David Williams

Scripture Lesson: 2 Kings 5: 1-15

There were some good things about my old job, you know, the one I had before God grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and tossed me into the ministry. But one of my very least favorite things was...well...having to explain to people exactly what it was I did. You’re at a party, and talking to this guy, and he says, “I’m an accountant at a firm in DC. What do you do?”

“Well, I manage a research grantmaking program that solicits funds from private foundations so that we can engage in a multi-stage peer-reviewed grant competition to support and disseminate the findings of social science research into the dynamics of voluntarism, philanthropy, and the nonprofit sector both domestically and internationally.”

And suddenly, there’d be silence, and my conversation partner’s eyes were glazed and unresponsive, and he’s involuntarily drooling and twitching slightly. After having repeatedly witnessed that same result, I’m convinced that law enforcement officers could use a weaponized version my old job description to harmlessly bring down suspects.

But there were good things about that job, particularly some of the things that I learned about how and why people give to support causes. You’d think, wouldn’t you, that giving to charity would be one of the most selfless things you could do. But increasingly, people are expecting their charity to work for them. You don’t just give. You give expecting to receive something in return. The more powerful you are, the truer that is. Like, for instance, those alumni who give money to schools. The more you give, the more recognition you get. If you’re really, really committed, you get the single highest honor any university donor can achieve--your very own building, named after you. Just walk across the University of Maryland - College Park Campus and look at all the buildings.

The Mitchell Building. McKeldin Library. The Lee Building. McKeldin Mall. Shriver Lab. The McKeldin Institute for Applied Business Puppetry. The Montgomery Burns Center for Gerontology. The Hannibal Lecter School for the Culinary Arts. The list goes on and on.

But getting recognition is only the beginning. In the 1990s, a trend began that is continuing today. People aren’t willing to just give to a charity any more. They want to give only to that part of the charity that does exactly what they want. It’s called “donor choice,” and it means bringing the consumer mentality to our giving. It’s like saying, “Well, does your charity help the blind? That’s great, but I’m only interested in giving money to you if you have a project to give audiobook versions of Steven Colbert’s new book to blind kids in Borneo. Sure, maybe those kids were hoping for an operation to restore their sight. I know that’s what you usually do. But Colbert is such a funny guy, and who doesn’t like to laugh? You DO want my MONEY, don’t you?”

We expect to give in the way that we choose, and only in the way that we choose. Our giving should reflect us, and what we want. After all, the world revolves around us, doesn’t it? We should have the right to decide exactly what we give, and everything we receive, for that matter.

Though the story we heard from 2 Kings this morning comes to us from deep in the middle Iron Age, 2800 years ago, Naaman was just such a person. He was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff for the Aramean army...that’s the folks who lived modern day Syria. By all accounts, he was a crafty and successful military commander. He may have led the Arameans to victory over both Israel and Judah combined, delivering a decisive defeat at the battle of Ramoth-Gilead. He was a powerful man, but he also had a powerful problem. In most English translations, it says that he had leprosy, that blight of the ancient world in which your skin rots away while you’re still alive. The actual word in the Hebrew, though, is a catch-all term that just means “skin disease.” Whichever way you slice it, he had something pretty nasty, and all of the Clearasil in the ancient world wasn’t going to do the trick.

One of the slaves he’d captured in a raid into Israel, however, passed the word along that there might be a solution for Naaman. The prophet Elisha, the disciple of the great prophet Elijah, was renowned for his healing powers...why not go there. So Naaman talked to the Syrian king, who, eager to help his trusted warrior, gave him a donation to bring to the king of Israel. In today’s measurements, that comes out to seven hundred and fifty pounds of silver, 150 pounds of gold, and 10 Armani suits. There’s no way you’re going to fit that into a carry on bag.

Naaman trucked down to Israel, and handed a letter to King Jehoram of Israel...along with the boatload of cash. The letter, written by the Syrian king, said, basically, “Heal my servant.” This was understandably upsetting to Jehoram, who assumed it was just a trick, a way of giving the Syrian army an excuse to come storming down into Israel again.

Then Elisha got word of this, and the next thing you know, Naaman and his entire entourage rolls up with their shiny chariots at Elisha’s door. Naaman, of course, expected Elisha to come out like an eager little lap dog, and to do exactly what Naaman wanted. He was Naaman! He was powerful! He was rich!

But Elisha does none of that. He doesn’t even bother to come out to greet him. He sends a message: “Go wash in the Jordan seven times.”

Naaman is outraged. It’s plain in the English and even more clear in Hebrew that Naaman’s ego was seriously pricked. Hey, I’m Naaman. Naaman! I come all this way, with all this cash, and he’s not going to greet me? Me? And all he has to say is ‘Go bathe seven times?’ Where are the magical words? The ancient incantations and invocations of this God of theirs? Our court magicians put on a much better show than this! This isn’t anything like what I expected! If I wanted to just take a bath, I could have done it at home.” And he stormed off in a snit.

But his staff caught up with him, and pointed out that if Elisha had asked him to stand on his head and spin while playing HavaNaGila on a kazoo, he’d have done that. We’ve come all this way. It’s just a bath. So Naaman relented, and was washed, and was healed. Just...not the way he’d expected.

When we ask things of God...and we all do ask things from God...there’s a real danger that we’re going to show up at his door like Naaman. With our prayers we bring our own egos and desires, our own sense of self and our place in the world. We’ve been taught to expect everything to act like a transaction--our purchases, our giving, and our relationships.

But when you ask things of God, when you seek healing or guidance in your life, all of those expectations need to be set aside. When prayers are answered...and they are answered...it is only very rarely that we are given the things we anticipate.

Take, for instance, the smug ramblings of the author of a little website called whydoesn’tGodhealamputees.com. He’s convinced that because limbs don’t tend regrow when you pray over them, that’s a sure sign that God isn’t real. Though I have my own reactions to this, what’s most impressive are the responses of some Christians who’ve lost their limbs in accidents or in war. Most of them had been dealing with considerable anguish, both physical and spiritual, over the loss of their limb. Those who have faith, though, have found that they are healed. No, their limbs haven’t regrown like an amphibian. Instead, they’ve found that where once there was struggle, now they can cope. Where they were once overwhelmed, they found themselves at peace. Unlike Naaman, who expected both healing and the process of healing to happen in the way he desired, they’d opened themselves to how God might act in them...and recognized the gift of strength and peace for what it was. A gift of healing.

That openness needs to define our every prayer and our every faithful yearning, everything that we bring to God. Because if you are only going to be satisfied by the very thing you desire, then you’re going to completely miss what God intends for you.