Preaching on the Fourth of July Is Complicated
When I preached most Sundays, the Fourth of July weekend always presented a challenge. I love the United States, and Independence Day is one of my favorite holidays. Most years, I spend it in Canyon, Texas—a town with a vibrant parade, a festival in the square, and a fireworks show that lights up the sky.
I love what Independence Day stands for. I’m stirred by the familiar words:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all people are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights...”*
I believe our streets, squares, libraries, and skies are the right context for those celebrations. But not the sanctuary.
Worship is for God. While I believe congregations should lead themselves—and have often been overruled on this point—I’ve learned to accept a certain amount of patriotic observance in worship. Still, preaching on this weekend remains difficult.
This year, one of the Revised Common Lectionary texts—2 Kings 5—offers a surprising way to hold together national pride and Christian faith. It’s the story of Naaman, a military leader with a skin problem.
Naaman’s Skin Problem (and Ours)
Naaman’s condition is often labeled leprosy in English Bibles, but scholars believe it refers more broadly to chronic skin issues—perhaps eczema or psoriasis. For a public figure, this would have been more than a medical concern. It threatened his authority and image.
He also had a second skin problem: the person who could help him was an ethnic and political outsider. Naaman was from Aram—ancient Syria—a nation that had clashed violently with Israel. Yet it was an Israelite servant girl, captured in war, who told him where to go for healing.
This story features kings, generals, and prophets. But its turning points come through the powerless:
A servant girl who speaks up.
A prophet who sends instructions by messenger.
Servants who persuade Naaman to swallow his pride and wash in the muddy Jordan.
He does. And he is healed.
Where Healing Actually Happens
National holidays often center power—politicians, parades, flag-waving. But this scripture points somewhere else. The kings? Clueless. The general? Arrogant. The prophet? Remote. It is the servants—those who listen, who trust, who speak the truth—who carry the story forward.
This shouldn’t surprise us.
Mary said, “I am the Lord’s servant,” at the dawn of salvation.
Jesus told us, “The greatest among you will be your servant.”
And on the night of his betrayal, he washed feet.
July 4th gives us a chance to ask: Who really embodies our country’s nobility?
The ones who serve—nurses, teachers, laborers, caregivers, and the vulnerable themselves, whose lives bear witness to courage and grace.
Scripture Isn’t Journalism—It’s Testimony
Biblical history wasn’t written in real-time. It’s reflection, often from generations later, shaped by trauma, exile, and longing.
Naaman’s story likely took on deeper meaning during Israel’s return from exile. After Jerusalem was destroyed and the people displaced, the Persian Empire allowed them to return. They rebuilt not only the temple but their identity.
In that period, one theological view grew dominant:
God blesses insiders. God punishes outsiders.
This shows up clearly in Ezra and Nehemiah, where foreign marriages are condemned and religious purity is heavily guarded. It’s a theology born from crisis and fear.
But the Old Testament doesn’t speak in just one voice.
Alongside exclusivist texts, there’s a counter-testimony:
Rahab, the Canaanite.
Ruth, the Moabite.
Jonah, sent to Israel’s enemies—and angry when God forgave them.
And Naaman, who is healed before he professes belief.
Naaman returns to Elisha and declares: “Now I know there is no God in all the world except in Israel.” And even when his job requires him to enter a pagan temple, he promises to worship Israel’s God in his heart.
Grace comes first. Faith follows.
We Still Have a Skin Problem
The headlines today aren’t about dermatology, but they remind us we still struggle with difference—with whose skin we trust, honor, or fear.
We still face the same question: Is God’s love exclusive or expansive?
We can close ranks like Ezra and Nehemiah, drawing tight circles and calling ourselves blessed.
Or we can echo the stories of Rahab, Ruth, Jonah, and Naaman, and declare: God's love is for all—even those not yet ready to say it back.
That choice won’t give us all the answers. But it does shape our posture:
A posture that favors reconciliation over fear.
Healing over suspicion.
Dignity over defensiveness.
It invites us to ask:
Did I see the other’s wounds?
Did I open space for healing?
Did I act in love, even as I sought justice?
This Sunday, July 6, as the weekend winds down, we have an opportunity not just to celebrate national history—but to honor those who, like Naaman’s servants, quietly make healing possible.
Not with power.
Not with titles.
But with presence, humility, and service.
Amen.