Optional Memorial of Saint Frances of Rome, religious

Brief Background:

St. Frances of Rome (1384–1440) was a Roman noblewoman known for her deep prayer life and charity toward the poor and sick during times of war and plague. Though she wished to become a nun, she married and lived a holy life as a wife and mother while serving those in need. She later founded the Oblates of Mary, a community of women dedicated to prayer and service. Tradition says she was accompanied by her guardian angel who guided and protected her. She is the patron saint of motorists, automobile drivers, widows, and Benedictine oblates.

REFLECTION:

Naaman was a powerful man. He was the commander of the army of Aram, a respected leader, a successful warrior, a man used to commanding soldiers and planning strategies for battle. His life was filled with complex decisions, large movements of troops, and carefully thought-out plans. When problems arose, Naaman was accustomed to solving them with strength, authority, and strategy.

Yet despite all of this power, the Scriptures reveal something he could not control: Naaman suffered from leprosy.

No military strategy could cure it. No wealth could remove it. No power could command it away.

So Naaman makes the journey to Israel seeking healing from the prophet Elisha. Perhaps in his mind he imagined something dramatic — a powerful prayer, a grand ritual, some visible act of divine power that matched the seriousness of his condition and the importance of who he was.

Instead, Elisha does something surprising. He doesn’t even come out to meet Naaman. A messenger simply delivers the instruction: “Go and wash seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored.”

That’s it.

One can almost imagine Naaman’s reaction. A man who commanded armies, who developed complex strategies for war, who was used to decisive action — hearing these simple instructions and thinking:

“That’s it? Just go and wash seven times in the Jordan?”

No ceremony. No spectacle. Just a simple command. Naaman’s pride immediately rises up. The Scriptures tell us he becomes angry. He even begins comparing rivers back home, arguing that they are better than the Jordan. In that moment, Naaman nearly walks away from the very thing that could heal him.

And how often does something similar happen in our own spiritual lives?

Now we find ourselves in the third week of Lent, halfway through our Lenten journey. If we have been faithful to our Lenten practices — fasting, prayer, acts of sacrifice — something begins to happen. The big distractions of life start to fall away. Some of the noise quiets down. And when the noise quiets, God often begins to speak in very simple ways. Not necessarily through dramatic signs or extraordinary experiences, but through quiet invitations: Pray a little longer. Be patient with someone who irritates you. Let go of resentment. Offer forgiveness. Trust God more deeply. Remain faithful in the small things.

But like Naaman, we can sometimes look at those simple invitations and think: “That’s it?”

We expect something bigger. Something more dramatic. Something that feels more significant.

Yet God often works through the simple acts of obedience.

Naaman’s healing finally comes when he humbles himself. Encouraged by his servants, he goes down into the Jordan and washes. One time. Two times. Three times. Seven times. Then the miracle happens.

The Scriptures tell us that his flesh was restored like that of a little child. Notice the deeper transformation taking place. Naaman doesn’t just receive physical healing. His pride is washed away. His heart is changed. He returns to Elisha and proclaims: “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.”

The healing began the moment he was willing to humble himself and accept the simplicity of what God asked. And perhaps that is where we are right now in our Lenten journey.

Halfway through Lent, God may not be asking us for something dramatic. Instead, He may be inviting us to remain faithful in the small, simple things — the quiet prayer, the hidden sacrifice, the humble act of patience, the daily decision to trust Him.

The real question for us becomes the same one Naaman had to face:

Am I willing to humble myself enough to accept the simple things God is asking of me?

Because sometimes the simplest act of obedience becomes the very place where God begins to transform our hearts.