A few years ago, my friend’s kitchen sink started leaking. Drip. Drip. His wife asked to call the plumber. For weeks, he ignored it. Finally, he thought, “I can fix this myself. He bought some tools, watched tutorials on YouTube, and dismantled the sink. Water sprayed everywhere; His children had a good laugh. His spouse sighed. His dog hid himself in the closet. Finally, he had to call in the plumper; a plumber arrived with his own toolkit, twisted a single valve, and said, “You just needed to tighten this.” The Plumper charged him 50 Dollars, but my friend had purchased tools costing more than $200 already. Lesson: Pride is expensive.
That’s Naaman’s story. A decorated general but inflicted with leprosy, he’s told by the prophet Elisha to wash seven times in the muddy Jordan River. Naaman storms off, furious. “I expected a grand ritual.” But His servants—bless them— they nudge him: “If the prophet asked you to do something hard, you’d do it. So why not this?” Reluctantly, Naaman obeys. His skin heals. His pride cracks.
Naaman wanted Damascus’ pristine rivers, not Israel’s “swampy creek” (v. 12). We’re no different. We crave dramatic spiritual makeovers—retreats, epiphanies, 30-Day Holiness Challenges, breakthroughs, holy “aha” moments —and laugh at ordinary solutions: Forgive the difficult guy at work? Drink less caffeine? Calling your mother. “They are Too small, God. Give me something more worthy, something grander!”
But Lent isn’t a self-help spa. It’s a season to embrace Jordan’s muddy waters—the gritty, unglamorous acts that really heal us. A friend once battled anxiety. Her therapist suggested “boring” fixes: daily walks, bedtime routines, breathing exercises. She resisted—“I need a breakthrough, not deep breaths!”—until she tried it. “Turns out,” she laughed, “calm is quieter, easier than she thought.”
Naaman’s healing hinges not on Elisha’s prayer but on his servants’ courage to say, “Sir, this is dumb to bathe in Jordan…but just bathe, give it a try.”.Lent is letting others point us to the Jordan. Think of the friend who says, “You’re working too hard. You need Rest.” The kid who blurts, “You’re on your phone too much.” Or the spouse who murmurs, “Let’s talk to someone.” These are today’s “servants”—the ones who love us enough to name our leaks.
We’ve all been Naaman. My dad once refused to wear a hearing aid for years, insisting “I’m fine!” while blasting the TV, neighbors across the street could hear it. When he finally caved, he admitted, “I didn’t realize birds still chirped around here.”
Naaman’s story ends with a confession: “Now I know there is no God in all the earth except in Israel” (v. 15). His healing wasn’t just physical; it was relational. He saw God in the lowly river and the lower-status servants. This Lent, God may ask you to embrace the leak in your faucet. He will invite you to wash in the Jordan: apologize first. Listen more. Simplify our chaos. He might ask us to thank the servants who are nudging us toward grace. A friend, a mentor, a child, or even a pet who chews on your stress balls?
Naaman’s Jordan River was unremarkable, but it held divine power. Your Lenten Jordan might be a nightly walk, a forgiven grudge, or 10 minutes of silence; they are the plumber’s wrench for the soul. So this week, when pride hisses, “You deserve a grander fix,” laugh and say: “Pass me the Jordan. I’ve got leaks to mend.” Your miracle is simpler than you think.
- Father Boby's inspirational homily was recorded live during Mass at the Father Peyton Center this morning. You can view the Mass (and the Rosary at the 30-minute mark) on the Family Rosary YouTube page.
- To join the Rosary and Mass Livestream, visit the Family Rosary YouTube or Facebook page at 11:30 a.m. Eastern, Monday – Friday. Consider inviting others to join too! (*If you are not a member of Facebook and a signup window appears, simply select the X at the top of the pop-up message and continue to the livestream.)
