Naaman was the commander of the Syrian army, a brave and respected warrior who had led his troops to many victories. Yet despite his fame and success, he carried a secret burden—he had leprosy, a devastating and disfiguring disease.

Among the captives brought from Israel was a young girl who served Naaman’s wife. One day, she quietly suggested, “If only my master could go to Israel. There is a prophet there who can heal him, even of leprosy.”

Naaman relayed her words to the king of Syria. The king acted immediately, sending Naaman to Israel with lavish gifts—gold, silver, fine clothes—and a letter demanding that the king of Israel cure him.

When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his robes in dismay. “Am I God?” he cried. “I cannot cure leprosy! This is a trick to start a war!”

But the prophet Elisha heard of Naaman’s arrival. He sent word to the king: “Do not despair. Send Naaman to me, and he will see there is a prophet in Israel.”

Naaman and his entourage arrived at Elisha’s home, but the prophet did not come out to meet him. Instead, he sent his servant Gehazi with a simple message: “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan River. Your flesh will be restored, and you will be clean.”

Naaman was furious. “I expected him to stand and call on the name of his God, to wave his hand over me and heal me. Are not the rivers of Damascus better than all the waters of Israel? Must I wash in the filthy Jordan?” He turned and left in anger.

His servants spoke gently, “If the prophet had asked you to do something difficult, you would have done it. Why not do something simple and be healed?”

Reluctantly, Naaman followed their advice. He dipped himself into the Jordan seven times, and to his amazement, his leprosy disappeared. His skin became smooth and healthy, like that of a young boy.

Filled with gratitude, Naaman returned to Elisha. “Now I know there is no God in all the earth except in Israel,” he said, bowing before the prophet. “Please accept a gift from me in thanks.

Elisha refused. “As surely as the Lord lives, I will take nothing.”

Naaman persisted, then asked for a favour: he requested to take soil from Israel so he could worship the Lord there, and he asked forgiveness for the times he might bow to his king’s god out of duty. Elisha assured him, “Go in peace.”

But Gehazi, watching, grew greedy. My master was too easy on him. I could take something for myself, he thought. He ran after Naaman and spun a story about needing silver and clothes for some visiting young prophets. Naaman generously gave him double what Gehazi asked for.

Gehazi hurried home, stashed the silver and clothes, and returned to Elisha. “Where have you been?” the prophet asked.

“Nowhere,” Gehazi lied.

Elisha’s eyes pierced him. “Was it right to take gifts when God had just healed Naaman? Because of your greed, the leprosy that left him will now cling to you and your descendants.”

At once, Gehazi looked down at his arms in horror—his skin had turned white with leprosy, just as Elisha had said.

Naaman had learned humility and faith, and Gehazi had learned the terrible cost of greed.