Proper 7.C.25
1 Kings 19:1-15a
Melanie L. McCarley
As we greet the prophet Elijah in today’s Old Testament lesson from First Kings, we discover that his world, at this particular point in time, is a mess…a disaster. So bad has it become that discouraged and afraid, Elijah has fled to the desert, in fear for his life. To understand how he got to this place, we need a bit of background.
You may recall that Elijah, lives in the northern kingdom of Israel during the reign of Ahab, the king who (in the words of Holy Scripture) “did more evil in the eyes of the Lord than any of those before him.” Ahab had married a Phoenician princess named Jezebel, who established the worship of Ba’al in the palace and persecuted the Israelite prophets of God. Elijah (who is not known to mince words) informs Ahab of God’s displeasure accompanied by a threat. A drought. (Hold on to your seats and fast-forward three years).
After three years of climate disaster and famine, it is time for the drought to end. Elijah marks this occasion by showing up at Mount Carmel, where Ahab and Jezebel have set up a temple to Ba’al. Elijah says that he is the only prophet of God left, and he challenges the 450 prophets of Ba’al to a contest: Each of them will call upon the name of their own god, and whichever god sends fire from heaven will be acknowledged as the true God.
Elijah triumphs in a stunning victory. If you would like to read the rated-R version (for violence) it is in chapter 18 of the Book of First Kings. By the time the contest is over in a haze of smoke and blood, Elijah is God’s right-hand man and the people’s hero. And it’s raining to boot. The drought is over and done.
Elijah’s victory kindles Jezebel’s wrath and she threatens God’s prophet with impending death. And here’s the fascinating thing—Elijah, this mighty prophet of God, is shattered. Maybe it’s all been too much, but for whatever reason, Elijah arrives at a point of internal crisis which brings him to a broom tree and a cave where enervated, afraid and depressed, this mighty prophet of God pleads for death.
It’s taken us a while to get to the cave this morning—but here is where we are. And perhaps, at this point, you can cast back in your mind for a time in which you felt like Elijah. Done. Done with your calling, done with your job, your family, your world, maybe even your life. All reserves spent. Just done.
Remarkably, God responds. An angel arrives with food and water. This, and some sleep restore Elijah, and when he gets up the Lord comes to him and asks: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Taking the question to be something of an attack Elijah responds defensively: “I am here because I have been zealous for you. And let me tell you where that has gotten me. The Israelites have forsaken your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to the sword. I alone am left, and they are out to take my life!”
It’s actually something of a tantrum, and represents a rather stunning lack of perspective. Notice that Elijah makes no mention of the end of the drought, no mention, even of the provision from the angel that allowed Elijah to reach the cave in safety. No memory that the priests of Ba’al have been defeated. Instead, to hear Elijah say it—all is lost, something not even hinted of by the situation as the Book of Kings phrases it. But, then again, Elijah has been put through the emotional wringer. As I mentioned earlier. He is done. …. But perhaps not finished, as we shall see.
To all of this, the Word of the Lord simply replies: “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” And as he peers of out of the cave, Elijah witnesses wind, earthquake and fire—but God (we learn) is not in the wind, nor is God in the earthquake or the fire. God’s voice is not heard in the drama and the noise—but in the silence. Think of it. After a hurricane blows through or a tornado touches down, it isn’t the roar that is deafening but the absence of rushing, roaring, breaking apart that presses the strangeness upon us. It is from this place of sheer silence that God is proved most powerful. In this silence, God speaks volumes.
And from this silence come words that Elijah can hear. The voice asks “ma lekha po, Elijah?” Literally, “What is for you here, Elijah?’ But scholars translate this sentence as an expression: “What are you doing here, Elijah.” Rabbi Mike Comins has another translation—which I prefer: “Who are you, Elijah, here in the desert?” In other words, “Who are you in the desert, where your previous understanding of how God communicates with you no longer applies; where your past experience misleads you; where your great accomplishments will not help you?” “Who are you, Elijah, here in the desert…at the end of your rope and yourself?”
Perhaps God has asked of you something of the same in those moments of life when we feel that we, like Elijah, are done, finished, kaput. Who am I, when my achievements, titles and bank account are left behind? Who am I when the person I have become is a burden I can no longer carry, and the self-image and habits I have worked so hard to cultivate in the past are precisely what has led to my failure at this time? Who am I when everything non-essential to my being has been left behind?
Perhaps, in these moments, like Elijah, we might find ourselves able to listen—and in listening. hear, not a call of judgement, but a voice of mercy, calling our name. A voice which leads us not to despair and defeat, but to hope. A voice calling us to be more than we are at present—to reach into the depths of our soul and with the help and guidance of God become something more. A voice calling us back to ourselves. In today’s reading—like the Gospel lesson for this morning we learn that God comes to us not only in moments of achievement and victory—but in those times when life is at its lowest ebb—when we are fraught with anxiety, overcome with failure and beset with trouble. God comes to us, and brings us life.
So, what happens to Elijah? Does he suck it up and go back to being a prophetic warrior for God? Actually…no. This voice is a turning point in Elijah’s life. He hands over his power and becomes a fatherly mentor to the younger prophet Elisha. He is done. But he is not finished. His ministry continues, but differently than before.
Ours is a God of new beginnings; a God whose compassion reaches into all places—amongst the tombs in the land of the Gerasene’s, in a cave on Mount Horeb, and into the darkness of the human spirit. Ours is a God who brings life, strength and purpose; a God who helps us to know that there are indeed times when we might feel as though we are done; but reminds us that we are not finished. In Jesus’ name. Amen.