When our children were young, I marked time by the weeks between school vacations and long weekends. There was the start of school and Labor Day in September, Columbus Day in October, Veterans’ Day and Thanksgiving in November, Christmas in December, New Year’s and Martin Luther King’s Birthday in January, winter vacation in February, spring vacation in April, Memorial Day in May, and school was out before the end of June. The only month that had nothing to offer was March. The mud month seemed to stretch on far longer than its 31 days.
The church calendar – or liturgical calendar – is organized much the same way. We delight in the high holy days of Christmas, Easter and Pentecost. The seasons which precede or follow (Advent, Epiphany, and Lent) ebb and flow like the tides. Each one has its unique time-marking traditions - candles lit or extinguished, special songs.
However, there is are those many weeks - from the Sunday after Pentecost in May until the beginning of Advent after Thanksgiving – when not much happens. Like March, they seem to stretch on forever.
The church has a name for that period of time. It is called most fittingly “ordinary time.” It is the time when we go about our lives as Christians – day by day by day – uneventfully incorporating the message of the Gospel into our comings and goings. Without its own brand of fanfare, it is very ordinary time.
Our Scripture lesson this morning, the almost parable-like story of Martha and Mary, gives us an important insight on how to spend that ordinary time, a most important consideration since ordinary time makes up a large portion of the church year.
Martha and Mary were sisters, and in this brief passage we see clearly that they expressed their devotion to Jesus very differently.
Because this story comes on the heels of the Parable of the Good Samaritan with its lessons of hospitality and neighborliness, we can hardly fault Martha for her initiative in welcoming Jesus and his disciples – 13 guests in all – into her house.
In the Greek, the word the Gospel writer uses for Martha’s hospitality means “to receive.” In short, Martha opened her home to these men, which traditionally meant concocting a no holes barred soups to nuts dinner.
After all, one can not serve a famous rabbi and friend hotdogs or bologna sandwiches. Jesus was coming to dinner – and his presence called for a special meal!
Lutheran pastor Edward Markquart describes the scene this way: We can imagine Martha going to market the day before the feast to get the freshest food available. She may have found…fish that had been brought in from the Jordan River (as well as) dates and pomegranates and figs and raisins and nuts - and (of course) the finest wine.
What a shopping spree that was, and the next morning, Martha was a flurry of activity, busy cleaning the house and the yard before she began to prepare the feast for Jesus…She set the table with her finest, bringing out her brass menorah…for a candle light dinner and her favorite pottery ware.
(Soon) Jesus knocked on the door, and everyone was excited to see (him). They laughed and chatted and Jesus noticed how clean and prepared the house was, and Martha was pleased. Then Jesus sat down on a pillow in the front room and started to teach. Being a rabbi, he talked about God and love and prayer.
However, soon Martha was out in the kitchen, so busy with her last minute preparations, and irritated that she couldn’t hear the conversation between Jesus and her younger sister in the living room. (The Greek word for Martha’s predicament means literally dragged away from. Because of her kitchen tasks, Martha was pulled away from hearing what the rabbi had to say. So it is hardly surprising that) the more she worked, the more frustrated she got with her sister.
So Martha started to send signals to her sister, banging the pots and pans so that the noise would bring Mary into the kitchen. It didn’t work. Then Martha walked into the living room with the hors d’oeuvres, the wine, the cheese and crackers. As she walked by Mary, she gave her the eyeball roll in the direction of the kitchen. But Mary wasn’t looking.
Then Martha returned to the living room to pick up the leftovers and gave her sister another signal, this one the rolling shoulder motion, again in the direction of the kitchen. Once more, Mary did not respond. She was still focused on Jesus and his words.
Martha finally stood in the kitchen door way, and her anger could be contained no longer: ‘Jesus, would you tell Mary to come into the kitchen and help me with all this work? She is taking advantage of being the youngest again, so as to get out of doing her share. Would you tell her to come into the kitchen and help with this meal?’
Jesus spoke to Martha calmly, ‘Martha, Martha, don’t be so upset. You are busy and distracted with many things. Mary has chosen the better portion, listening to me, and this will not be taken away from her.’
Martha put her hand on her hips, said ‘hrumpff,’ and stomped back into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the main course.
Baptist pastor Don Fortner notes the not so subtle differences between the two sisters. “Martha was an active, impulsive, strong-willed, hard-working woman. She spoke her mind openly (and was) a woman truly devoted to Christ.
Mary was a quiet, contemplative woman, more easy-going than Martha, but no less firm in her convictions. She felt things deeply, but said far less than she felt – a woman genuinely devoted to Christ!
Martha, when Jesus came to her house, was delighted to see him and immediately began to make preparations in most lavish manner she could, so that he would feel welcome.
Mary also rejoiced to see the Lord coming into their home, but her first thought was to sit at his feet and hear his word.”
If we were to look at this story as a parable, we would conclude that Martha’s discipleship is grounded in action - welcoming and hospitable activity - while Mary’s discipleship reflects contemplation – listening to and reflecting upon the words of Jesus.
I think we would all agree that both action and contemplation are equally important aspects of the Christian life. Yet, so often when we hear this story, we insist that one of the sisters is right, and the other is wrong. Martha was out of line, and Mary is to be applauded.
That seems harsh because, I do not know about you, but for my part, I am terrific in the role of Martha – and a bit lacking on the Mary front. Give me a task to do – and I’ll do it. Is there a celebration to prepare for? Just call on me.
You should see me before Christmas – and I know I am not the only one in our congregation like this. I bake dozens of cookies and whip up needhams and other candies. Yikes! There are the plum puddings to steam, pumpkin bread to bake – and let’s not forget the presents and stockings and decorating the house, etc., etc. etc. Though I am less frenetic than I used to be, Advent is still a whirlwind of activity.
Now, I am not saying that this is wrong or inappropriate. After all, we would be lost without the Marthas. Marthas are the keepers of Christmas. They also keep the church going. Without the Marthas, there would be no coffee hour, no Sunday School, no public suppers. I am grateful for all the Marthas around here. However, I do think this observation points to the fact that most of us make far better Marthas than we do Marys.
And yet, Jesus seems to be holding up Mary as the exemplar. Think about it – Mary was the one who shirked her kitchen duties, stood by as her sister freaked out over meal preparations, and who by traditional standards was really a selfish slacker. Can we reconcile these two approaches to discipleship because, as we said initially, both Martha and Mary were devoted to Jesus?
I think their approaches are really two sides of the same coin. What I mean is this: Usually we contrast the sisters and create an “either/or” scenario, so that we can logically conclude that only one of them can be right. Either Martha is right or Mary is right.
However, if we can shift the paradigm and see the situation as “both/and”, we can come to a different conclusion. I think the truth of the story is that both Martha and Mary are right. If we reflect on the story as a parable, then its truth is that we need both activity and contemplation to live an enriched Christian life.
We need times of activity – opening our church and ourselves to the community and the world. We need to do public suppers and Monday meals. We need to weatherize our neighbors’ homes, so they stay warm in the winter. We need to work in our community garden, so we can donate fresh produce to the food pantry. Those activities define us as an important force for God’s good. We need to be Marthas.
However, because we do all this activity in Jesus’ name, because it is our faith in the Gospel message that motivates us, we also need to be Marys. We need time to reflect on Jesus’ message and to hear the old, old stories reminding us why we have chosen to oftentimes run counter to our cultural norms – being hospitable, being good neighbors, being peace makers, and being justice instigators.
That is why worship should be so important to us. Worship is our Mary time. These are our moments of contemplation to listen to the teachings of Jesus, to be empowered once again by his message, and to be strengthened by this community of committed men and women.
Worship should not be discretionary. If we are committed Christians, worship should be a high priority – not something we do when it is convenient or the karma is right. And if worship does not figure importantly in our lives, then we need to engage each other and find out why. Of course, I am really preaching to the choir – but all of you who are here can tell those who aren’t about this insight!
Jesus understood this symbiotic relationship between activity and contemplation – mission and worship – and that is why he encouraged Mary. He understood that we are first rate at the activity business. We make wonderful Marthas.
However, he also understood that we find the contemplation piece, the worship piece, the Mary piece a bit more problematic. That is what the Gospel writer is trying to tell us in this parable of Christian living: Martha/Mary. Activity/Contemplation. Mission/Worship. Not either/or, but both/and. In the end, in order to be truly effective followers of Jesus, we have to be both a Martha and a Mary too.
Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor of the Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
http://www.rvccme.org/
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
2 Kings 5:1-14 Little Voices
This is a story about voices. It is a story about big voices – loud and authoritative voices proclaiming and directing and ordering people about – and it is a story about little voices – barely heard and quavering voices whispering in darkened hallways and speaking gently out-of-turn.
But the voices are just a way understanding what the story is really about – and that is power. It is the story of the power of those people on whom we most often bestow power – rulers and military commanders – and it is the story of the power of those we deem to be powerless – servants, slave girls, and messengers.
This is a story about voices – and power behind those voices. It is the story of the great Syrian generalissimo Naaman and how he was healed of a terrible skin disease, commonly known as leprosy.
We hear Naaman’s story only once in the three year cycle of the lectionary. Who was he anyway? If we were ancient military historians, then surely we would know all about him. After all, he had proved himself on the battlefield time and time again. Why, it was his army that had brought down powerful King Ahab with a well-placed arrow.
His own Syrian king had great respect for Naaman and held him in the highest esteem. After all, Naaman’s uniform was weighted down and decorated with various medals of honor, distinguished service medals, and purple hearts.
He had everything going for him – well, just about everything - until that evening when he felt the first sensation of numbness in his right hand – his sword hand - and he noticed a small patch of redness and those telltale tiny raised pustules.
“How can this be? Where is the fairness in my plight?” He shouted in his loudest and most powerful generalissimo voice. And he lay awake all that night until dawn - the refrain of “Untouchable! Untouchable! -” knitting together his terrible nightmares.
As author and seminary professor, Barbara Brown Taylor, noted, even the simplest of everyday encounters would inevitably change for Naaman. The powerful generalissimo knew that there would soon be a time when his success and fame and power would mean very little.
Instead there would be the awkward discomfort of someone who might not want to shake his hand or who could not help but stare too long at his disfigurement.
Needless to say, his wife was distraught as well, and his entire household stood by, horrified at the grisly news of Naaman’s dreadful but sure demise.
As the fingers of dawn first began to part the night sky and before the sun arose, one of Naaman’s war trophies, a little nameless slave girl went to Naaman’s wife, her little slave girl voice quavering as she whispered to her mistress in a darkened backstairs hallway. “The prophet in Samaria – Naaman should go to him. He could heal my master.”
When Naaman heard these whispered words of hope, he went to his king who, of course, would do anything to save the powerful generalissimo. And so the powerful king of Syria wrote a most powerful letter of introduction to the equally powerful king of Israel: This is to inform you that you must cure my most powerful generalissimo of his disease.
Figuring that perhaps a letter might not be quite enough to sway an equally powerful king, the Syrian monarch also sent along thirty thousand pieces of silver, six thousand pieces of gold, and ten fine changes of clothing rich in brocade and of the best fabric – powerful gifts from one powerful king to another on behalf of a powerful soldier.
Not surprisingly, the king of Israel wanted nothing to do with the situation – in spite of the silver and gold and ten new brocaded outfits. Wary of a trick or some sort of political high jinx, he was all ready to send Naaman packing when the prophet Elisha stepped in.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Elisha said to the king of Israel for whom he prophesized. “Just send Naaman to me. I will cure him – and in doing so show him how powerful a real prophet – a prophet of Israel – can be.”
And so the most powerful generalissimo gathered up his most powerful gifts of silver and gold and brocaded outfits and knocked on Elisha’s door. Fully expecting that a powerful military commander of his stature would be greeted by the powerful prophet himself, Naaman was a more than a little taken aback when a servant – again with no name – bowed before him, bringing only a message from Elisha.
What moxie this prophet of Yahweh had in the face of such political and military power! Imagine - Elisha staying inside and sending a messenger boy instead.
“Elisha says to wash seven times in the Jordan River, and you will be healed,” the young servant said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Take a bath? He wants me to take a bath? I came all this way to have him tell me to take a bath? In the muddy Jordan River, no less?” Naaman shouted in his most enraged and powerful voice even as he loudly dissed the Israeli watering hole. “When I have got far better and cleaner rivers back home in Syria than any river I could possibly find here in Israel? Do you know what they DO in the Jordan River? Laundry, that’s what. And who knows what else. Swimming in the Jordan River? Your prophet has got to be kidding. I am out of here.”
And the most powerful generalissimo began turning the horses and mules around, his loud voice still muttering expletives and critiques. And once again it was the small and powerless voices of servants – Naaman’s this time - who saved the day. Imagine – servants telling their masters what to do.
“Oh, most powerful generalissimo,” his servants whispered in quavering voices. “If Elisha had told you to do something hard or dangerous or expensive, you would have obeyed. Just dunk yourself in the Jordan River. Just try it. Just do it.”
And Naaman the powerful generalissimo – in spite of his injured pride - took the advice of the powerless ones – and dipped himself into the muddy Jordan. One, two, three, four, five, six – and a seventh time. And lo and behold, just as Elisha said, Naaman was healed.
This is a story about power. It is a story about those people we have bestowed power upon and those we have deemed to be powerless. It is a story of the power of kings and generalissimos and that of slaves and servants.
But it is also the story of mega-churches – and small membership congregations. It is the story of Washington - and the man on the street, Walmart and the small business person. It is the story of Wall Street -and Main Street, agribusiness and local farmers. It is the story of us – you and me - and the power that we in fact do have even we when are deemed – or feel ourselves to be - powerless.
All the power of the King of Syria and all the power of Naaman could not cure the generalissimo of his leprosy. All of their shouting and loud voices, their orders, proclamations, and directives could not restore his health.
It was the little voices – the whispering of the powerless ones – that made the difference: the slave girl’s quiet suggestion in the hallway to send Naaman to Elisha in the first place, the shy voice of the messenger speaking the words of the cure, the reticent servants pleading with their master to just take a swim in the Jordan.
When you really think about it, even the power of God channeled though Elisha would not have made a whit of difference had it not been for the slave girl, the messenger, and the pleading servants. It was they – the powerless ones – who in the end played the most important role in the story – and made all the difference.
I have to tell you. I find this tale personally very empowering. You see, I do not think we are like the Kings of Syria and Israel. Neither are we like the generalissimo Naaman. I see us more as the slave girl and messenger and bevy of pleading servants. At least, that is how I see myself.
And yet, there is power within us - a power to love, a power to commit ourselves to economic and social justice, a power that is the powerful message of the Gospel.
I believe that if we choose to wield that power, like the powerless ones in our Scripture lesson, we can make a difference. We can be a catalyst for healing – for the healing of the whole world.
Now, because today is Independence Day, I would like to leave you with something to carry with you to all your parades and celebrations – and that is this.
We in this country are NOT exceptional people. We are not the Naaman’s and the Syrian Kings - though we have certainly done our share of proclaiming and directing in loud and authoritative voices. We have bestowed a power upon ourselves and deemed others to be powerless.
No - we are not exceptional people – but our style of government is exceptional and the fact that our democracy has remained in tact for over 200 years is exceptional. That each one of us can exercise the power within us to make a difference is exceptional. That the little voices – when they choose to speak out - are honored is exceptional. That Margaret Mead’s observation has the potential to be so true in our nation is exceptional: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
Let your little voice be heard, for therein lies its power!
Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor of the Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
http://www.rvccme.org/
But the voices are just a way understanding what the story is really about – and that is power. It is the story of the power of those people on whom we most often bestow power – rulers and military commanders – and it is the story of the power of those we deem to be powerless – servants, slave girls, and messengers.
This is a story about voices – and power behind those voices. It is the story of the great Syrian generalissimo Naaman and how he was healed of a terrible skin disease, commonly known as leprosy.
We hear Naaman’s story only once in the three year cycle of the lectionary. Who was he anyway? If we were ancient military historians, then surely we would know all about him. After all, he had proved himself on the battlefield time and time again. Why, it was his army that had brought down powerful King Ahab with a well-placed arrow.
His own Syrian king had great respect for Naaman and held him in the highest esteem. After all, Naaman’s uniform was weighted down and decorated with various medals of honor, distinguished service medals, and purple hearts.
He had everything going for him – well, just about everything - until that evening when he felt the first sensation of numbness in his right hand – his sword hand - and he noticed a small patch of redness and those telltale tiny raised pustules.
“How can this be? Where is the fairness in my plight?” He shouted in his loudest and most powerful generalissimo voice. And he lay awake all that night until dawn - the refrain of “Untouchable! Untouchable! -” knitting together his terrible nightmares.
As author and seminary professor, Barbara Brown Taylor, noted, even the simplest of everyday encounters would inevitably change for Naaman. The powerful generalissimo knew that there would soon be a time when his success and fame and power would mean very little.
Instead there would be the awkward discomfort of someone who might not want to shake his hand or who could not help but stare too long at his disfigurement.
Needless to say, his wife was distraught as well, and his entire household stood by, horrified at the grisly news of Naaman’s dreadful but sure demise.
As the fingers of dawn first began to part the night sky and before the sun arose, one of Naaman’s war trophies, a little nameless slave girl went to Naaman’s wife, her little slave girl voice quavering as she whispered to her mistress in a darkened backstairs hallway. “The prophet in Samaria – Naaman should go to him. He could heal my master.”
When Naaman heard these whispered words of hope, he went to his king who, of course, would do anything to save the powerful generalissimo. And so the powerful king of Syria wrote a most powerful letter of introduction to the equally powerful king of Israel: This is to inform you that you must cure my most powerful generalissimo of his disease.
Figuring that perhaps a letter might not be quite enough to sway an equally powerful king, the Syrian monarch also sent along thirty thousand pieces of silver, six thousand pieces of gold, and ten fine changes of clothing rich in brocade and of the best fabric – powerful gifts from one powerful king to another on behalf of a powerful soldier.
Not surprisingly, the king of Israel wanted nothing to do with the situation – in spite of the silver and gold and ten new brocaded outfits. Wary of a trick or some sort of political high jinx, he was all ready to send Naaman packing when the prophet Elisha stepped in.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Elisha said to the king of Israel for whom he prophesized. “Just send Naaman to me. I will cure him – and in doing so show him how powerful a real prophet – a prophet of Israel – can be.”
And so the most powerful generalissimo gathered up his most powerful gifts of silver and gold and brocaded outfits and knocked on Elisha’s door. Fully expecting that a powerful military commander of his stature would be greeted by the powerful prophet himself, Naaman was a more than a little taken aback when a servant – again with no name – bowed before him, bringing only a message from Elisha.
What moxie this prophet of Yahweh had in the face of such political and military power! Imagine - Elisha staying inside and sending a messenger boy instead.
“Elisha says to wash seven times in the Jordan River, and you will be healed,” the young servant said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Take a bath? He wants me to take a bath? I came all this way to have him tell me to take a bath? In the muddy Jordan River, no less?” Naaman shouted in his most enraged and powerful voice even as he loudly dissed the Israeli watering hole. “When I have got far better and cleaner rivers back home in Syria than any river I could possibly find here in Israel? Do you know what they DO in the Jordan River? Laundry, that’s what. And who knows what else. Swimming in the Jordan River? Your prophet has got to be kidding. I am out of here.”
And the most powerful generalissimo began turning the horses and mules around, his loud voice still muttering expletives and critiques. And once again it was the small and powerless voices of servants – Naaman’s this time - who saved the day. Imagine – servants telling their masters what to do.
“Oh, most powerful generalissimo,” his servants whispered in quavering voices. “If Elisha had told you to do something hard or dangerous or expensive, you would have obeyed. Just dunk yourself in the Jordan River. Just try it. Just do it.”
And Naaman the powerful generalissimo – in spite of his injured pride - took the advice of the powerless ones – and dipped himself into the muddy Jordan. One, two, three, four, five, six – and a seventh time. And lo and behold, just as Elisha said, Naaman was healed.
This is a story about power. It is a story about those people we have bestowed power upon and those we have deemed to be powerless. It is a story of the power of kings and generalissimos and that of slaves and servants.
But it is also the story of mega-churches – and small membership congregations. It is the story of Washington - and the man on the street, Walmart and the small business person. It is the story of Wall Street -and Main Street, agribusiness and local farmers. It is the story of us – you and me - and the power that we in fact do have even we when are deemed – or feel ourselves to be - powerless.
All the power of the King of Syria and all the power of Naaman could not cure the generalissimo of his leprosy. All of their shouting and loud voices, their orders, proclamations, and directives could not restore his health.
It was the little voices – the whispering of the powerless ones – that made the difference: the slave girl’s quiet suggestion in the hallway to send Naaman to Elisha in the first place, the shy voice of the messenger speaking the words of the cure, the reticent servants pleading with their master to just take a swim in the Jordan.
When you really think about it, even the power of God channeled though Elisha would not have made a whit of difference had it not been for the slave girl, the messenger, and the pleading servants. It was they – the powerless ones – who in the end played the most important role in the story – and made all the difference.
I have to tell you. I find this tale personally very empowering. You see, I do not think we are like the Kings of Syria and Israel. Neither are we like the generalissimo Naaman. I see us more as the slave girl and messenger and bevy of pleading servants. At least, that is how I see myself.
And yet, there is power within us - a power to love, a power to commit ourselves to economic and social justice, a power that is the powerful message of the Gospel.
I believe that if we choose to wield that power, like the powerless ones in our Scripture lesson, we can make a difference. We can be a catalyst for healing – for the healing of the whole world.
Now, because today is Independence Day, I would like to leave you with something to carry with you to all your parades and celebrations – and that is this.
We in this country are NOT exceptional people. We are not the Naaman’s and the Syrian Kings - though we have certainly done our share of proclaiming and directing in loud and authoritative voices. We have bestowed a power upon ourselves and deemed others to be powerless.
No - we are not exceptional people – but our style of government is exceptional and the fact that our democracy has remained in tact for over 200 years is exceptional. That each one of us can exercise the power within us to make a difference is exceptional. That the little voices – when they choose to speak out - are honored is exceptional. That Margaret Mead’s observation has the potential to be so true in our nation is exceptional: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
Let your little voice be heard, for therein lies its power!
Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor of the Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
http://www.rvccme.org/
2 Kings 2:1-14 A Double Dose
Apparently the old prophet Elijah understood that his days in this world were numbered. He seemed to have an inkling that it was his time to leave this earth for whatever it was that would come next for him. I can imagine that he was fatigued enough – even spiritually depleted enough at least some of the time – to sense in a distant corner of his ancient heart that his work was done.
As one of the most noteworthy prophets to the kings of Israel, Elijah had always been devoted to his God, Yahweh. He had championed this Holy One – even under the most difficult of circumstances: Like the time he had to break the news to King Ahab of a multi-year, country-wide drought. And the reason for the extended dry season was because Ahab had insisted upon looking the other way when his wife, Jezebel, and a majority of the people in his kingdom insisted upon worshiping in their curious cults, worshipping pagan gods like Baal rather than the one true God of Israel, Yahweh.
That particular disagreement between Elijah and Ahab had climaxed in a fiery display of Yahweh’s power at a good old-fashioned theological showdown between the true prophet, Elijah, and the 400 lesser prophets of Baal.
Elijah remembered the afternoon vividly - how Yahweh’s altar was consumed in miraculous flames from heaven while Baal’s altar was left untouched. No one could argue after that display that Yahweh was clearly the winner.
Oh, Queen Jezebel had been furious, so angry that Elijah had no choice but to flee the country and live as an exile and refugee for years until it all blew over. Oh, yes, Elijah had tried to keep King Ahab in line, but a prophet’s life is not an easy one. That was for certain.
We should not be too surprised then at this morning’s tale of Elijah trying so hard to meet his Maker – but all the while his A-one follower, Elisha, being unwilling to leave his side and let him go. The story is at once poignant and hilarious.
“You stay here,” Elijah had said. “I have to go to Bethel.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Elisha replied. “I am sticking with you – like glue.”
“You stay here,” Elijah tried again. “I have to go to, ah, Jericho.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Elisha replied with unstoppable youthful exuberance. “You can not trick me. I am sticking with you – like glue – and I will follow you not only to Bethel but all the way to Jericho as well.”
Even the local prophets and soothsayers who watched the antics of the one old and one young Jew pulled at their beards and shook their shaggy heads. They finally pulled Elisha aside and said to him, “Elisha, this is hardly rocket science. You do not have to be a prophet to understand what is going on here. It is time for Elijah to go to his God – and you simply can not go with him.”
“Yes, I know,” Elisha replied evenly. “But I do not want to talk about it.”
“You stay here,” Elijah tried one last time. “I have to go to the Jordan River.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Elisha replied once again as 50 of the most curious local prophets and soothsayers followed and looked on, tut tutting and clucking as only local prophets and soothsayers can.
“You are not getting off the hook that easily. I am sticking with you – like glue – even if I have to cross the mighty Jordan River to do it.”
“Fine,” Elijah replied in a tired and cranky voice.
And so the leader and his A-one follower continued walking together all the way to the Jordan River. Elijah must have figured that Elisha was bound and determined to stick by him - like glue - because when he got to the river’s edge, instead of arguing one more time, Elijah simply snapped his cloak over the waters, and the waters parted – like other waters had parted so long ago for Moses and the Hebrew slaves - and the two prophets – old tired Elijah and young energetic Elisha – crossed over together to the other side.
Then Elijah turned to the young upstart beside him. “Elisha, Elisha,” he queried. “You have followed me and learned from me. You have taken all that I can give to you. You have not left my side. You have stuck to me like glue – even when I did not want you around – to Bethel, to Jericho, and now to the far side of the Jordan River. What is it that you want from me?”
And Elisha looked with great love and deep respect into the old clouded eyes of his mentor. “I want to be a holy man just like you.” But he wanted more than that really. Elisha knew he had a tough act to follow. He knew he needed what amounted to a first son’s share of the inheritance, and he so asked for it.
“Let me inherit a double dose of your spirit,” Elisha begged. “Let your spirit have double force in me because of these dangerous times. Let me have the most of you – more than any other prophet.”
There, it was out - in the open – all the hopes and fears of Elisha, who deep down inside knew that he was to be the next spiritual leader of his people.
“Oh, Elijah,” he continued. “Your sandals are too big for me to fill. What am I to do? How am I to follow someone like you? How will I face what is ahead when I leave the banks of this river? I need to know what to say when people ask me about my faith, why I do what I do, why my God is so important to me. Oh, Elijah, I need your spirit. Because I am half the man you are, I need a double dose of it if I am to do the work Yahweh has called me to do.”
“That would be difficult,” Elijah replied. “But not impossible.”
And then a great wind came, whipping up and frothing the waves of the Jordan. And out of the wind came a chariot that was consumed in fire, and suddenly Elijah was not there anymore. Not really dead apparently – simply taken up to finally meet his God.
For Elisha, the afternoon’s event was both dramatic and devastating – his mentor gone – this time for good - the aloneness and inadequacy already seeping into the very core of his being.
There is a story about a famous preacher who was a bit of a fraud. You see, his sermons were astounding, but no one ever realized that they had all been written by a staff assistant. Finally the assistant’s patience ran out, and one day the preacher was speaking to thousands of expectant listeners and at the bottom of page two read the stirring words, “And this, my friends, takes us to the very heart of the book of Habakkuk, which is…” only to turn to page three and see nothing but the dreaded words, “You’re on your own now.”
That was how Elisha felt. He too was on his own, knowing full well that he would never see Elijah again. The only piece of his mentor that remained lay on the ground – his cloak, his mantle. Elisha picked it up and pressed it close to his face, breathing deeply of the human odor that was so “Elijah” even as he sobbed, even as the feelings of aloneness and inadequacy flooded his heart.
And when he could weep no longer, feeling more lacking than ever in his ability to fill Elijah’s sandals, Elisha wiped away his tears and put the cloak – the mantle - over his shoulders.
And lo and behold, when he did, he seemed to stand a little taller. And the road looked a little straighter. And the world appeared less daunting.
Could it be that in picking up Elijah’s mantle, Elisha had also picked up his spirit, a double dose of his spirit? Could it be that the spirit was there all the time, but he had to pick up the mantle to know that? Could it be that he first had to say yes to becoming Israel’s next great prophet (symbolized by putting on the mantle) – and only then did he discover that he had that double dose of Elijah’s spirit, the double dose he needed to be the leader he was called to be?
I think that is part of the truth of this passage. Elisha had to say yes to his call – even though he felt inadequate to the task - and only then did he receive the Spirit necessary to fulfill that call.
And so it is for us, I think – you and I – in our calls to ministry….Oh, Jesus, your sandals are too big for me to fill. What am I to do? How am I to follow someone like you? How will I face what is ahead when I leave this place of worship and go out to be your Body in the world? I need to know what to say when people ask me about my faith, why I do what I do in your name, why God – and church – are so important to me. Oh, Jesus, I need your spirit – all you can spare – if I am to do the work you have called me to do.
Pick up the mantle, I think Jesus would say. Be like Elisha, and pick up the mantle. Just do it. Say yes to your calling to be my disciple. Have faith enough to first say yes, trusting that if you do, the spirit – the courage and strength – will come. But you have to pick up the mantle of discipleship first – mo matter how inadequate to the task you may feel. First pick up the mantle and then you will receive your share of the spirit you need to fulfill your call.
Elisha knew he had received a double dose of Elijah’s spirit only when he put on his mentor’s cloak or mantle. I think it might be the same for us.
First, we make a commitment to the way of Jesus by saying yes to justice, yes to peace, yes to loving our neighbor as ourselves – all the while, like Elisha, not knowing how in heaven’s name we are ever going to actually transform our lives, ever going to actually walk the way of justice, of peace, of loving our neighbors as ourselves.
Then, when the commitment is made, when all we really have to rely on is faith – and grace – only then will we know that the Spirit has come to us as it did Elisha.
Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor of the Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
http://www.rvccme.org/
As one of the most noteworthy prophets to the kings of Israel, Elijah had always been devoted to his God, Yahweh. He had championed this Holy One – even under the most difficult of circumstances: Like the time he had to break the news to King Ahab of a multi-year, country-wide drought. And the reason for the extended dry season was because Ahab had insisted upon looking the other way when his wife, Jezebel, and a majority of the people in his kingdom insisted upon worshiping in their curious cults, worshipping pagan gods like Baal rather than the one true God of Israel, Yahweh.
That particular disagreement between Elijah and Ahab had climaxed in a fiery display of Yahweh’s power at a good old-fashioned theological showdown between the true prophet, Elijah, and the 400 lesser prophets of Baal.
Elijah remembered the afternoon vividly - how Yahweh’s altar was consumed in miraculous flames from heaven while Baal’s altar was left untouched. No one could argue after that display that Yahweh was clearly the winner.
Oh, Queen Jezebel had been furious, so angry that Elijah had no choice but to flee the country and live as an exile and refugee for years until it all blew over. Oh, yes, Elijah had tried to keep King Ahab in line, but a prophet’s life is not an easy one. That was for certain.
We should not be too surprised then at this morning’s tale of Elijah trying so hard to meet his Maker – but all the while his A-one follower, Elisha, being unwilling to leave his side and let him go. The story is at once poignant and hilarious.
“You stay here,” Elijah had said. “I have to go to Bethel.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Elisha replied. “I am sticking with you – like glue.”
“You stay here,” Elijah tried again. “I have to go to, ah, Jericho.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Elisha replied with unstoppable youthful exuberance. “You can not trick me. I am sticking with you – like glue – and I will follow you not only to Bethel but all the way to Jericho as well.”
Even the local prophets and soothsayers who watched the antics of the one old and one young Jew pulled at their beards and shook their shaggy heads. They finally pulled Elisha aside and said to him, “Elisha, this is hardly rocket science. You do not have to be a prophet to understand what is going on here. It is time for Elijah to go to his God – and you simply can not go with him.”
“Yes, I know,” Elisha replied evenly. “But I do not want to talk about it.”
“You stay here,” Elijah tried one last time. “I have to go to the Jordan River.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Elisha replied once again as 50 of the most curious local prophets and soothsayers followed and looked on, tut tutting and clucking as only local prophets and soothsayers can.
“You are not getting off the hook that easily. I am sticking with you – like glue – even if I have to cross the mighty Jordan River to do it.”
“Fine,” Elijah replied in a tired and cranky voice.
And so the leader and his A-one follower continued walking together all the way to the Jordan River. Elijah must have figured that Elisha was bound and determined to stick by him - like glue - because when he got to the river’s edge, instead of arguing one more time, Elijah simply snapped his cloak over the waters, and the waters parted – like other waters had parted so long ago for Moses and the Hebrew slaves - and the two prophets – old tired Elijah and young energetic Elisha – crossed over together to the other side.
Then Elijah turned to the young upstart beside him. “Elisha, Elisha,” he queried. “You have followed me and learned from me. You have taken all that I can give to you. You have not left my side. You have stuck to me like glue – even when I did not want you around – to Bethel, to Jericho, and now to the far side of the Jordan River. What is it that you want from me?”
And Elisha looked with great love and deep respect into the old clouded eyes of his mentor. “I want to be a holy man just like you.” But he wanted more than that really. Elisha knew he had a tough act to follow. He knew he needed what amounted to a first son’s share of the inheritance, and he so asked for it.
“Let me inherit a double dose of your spirit,” Elisha begged. “Let your spirit have double force in me because of these dangerous times. Let me have the most of you – more than any other prophet.”
There, it was out - in the open – all the hopes and fears of Elisha, who deep down inside knew that he was to be the next spiritual leader of his people.
“Oh, Elijah,” he continued. “Your sandals are too big for me to fill. What am I to do? How am I to follow someone like you? How will I face what is ahead when I leave the banks of this river? I need to know what to say when people ask me about my faith, why I do what I do, why my God is so important to me. Oh, Elijah, I need your spirit. Because I am half the man you are, I need a double dose of it if I am to do the work Yahweh has called me to do.”
“That would be difficult,” Elijah replied. “But not impossible.”
And then a great wind came, whipping up and frothing the waves of the Jordan. And out of the wind came a chariot that was consumed in fire, and suddenly Elijah was not there anymore. Not really dead apparently – simply taken up to finally meet his God.
For Elisha, the afternoon’s event was both dramatic and devastating – his mentor gone – this time for good - the aloneness and inadequacy already seeping into the very core of his being.
There is a story about a famous preacher who was a bit of a fraud. You see, his sermons were astounding, but no one ever realized that they had all been written by a staff assistant. Finally the assistant’s patience ran out, and one day the preacher was speaking to thousands of expectant listeners and at the bottom of page two read the stirring words, “And this, my friends, takes us to the very heart of the book of Habakkuk, which is…” only to turn to page three and see nothing but the dreaded words, “You’re on your own now.”
That was how Elisha felt. He too was on his own, knowing full well that he would never see Elijah again. The only piece of his mentor that remained lay on the ground – his cloak, his mantle. Elisha picked it up and pressed it close to his face, breathing deeply of the human odor that was so “Elijah” even as he sobbed, even as the feelings of aloneness and inadequacy flooded his heart.
And when he could weep no longer, feeling more lacking than ever in his ability to fill Elijah’s sandals, Elisha wiped away his tears and put the cloak – the mantle - over his shoulders.
And lo and behold, when he did, he seemed to stand a little taller. And the road looked a little straighter. And the world appeared less daunting.
Could it be that in picking up Elijah’s mantle, Elisha had also picked up his spirit, a double dose of his spirit? Could it be that the spirit was there all the time, but he had to pick up the mantle to know that? Could it be that he first had to say yes to becoming Israel’s next great prophet (symbolized by putting on the mantle) – and only then did he discover that he had that double dose of Elijah’s spirit, the double dose he needed to be the leader he was called to be?
I think that is part of the truth of this passage. Elisha had to say yes to his call – even though he felt inadequate to the task - and only then did he receive the Spirit necessary to fulfill that call.
And so it is for us, I think – you and I – in our calls to ministry….Oh, Jesus, your sandals are too big for me to fill. What am I to do? How am I to follow someone like you? How will I face what is ahead when I leave this place of worship and go out to be your Body in the world? I need to know what to say when people ask me about my faith, why I do what I do in your name, why God – and church – are so important to me. Oh, Jesus, I need your spirit – all you can spare – if I am to do the work you have called me to do.
Pick up the mantle, I think Jesus would say. Be like Elisha, and pick up the mantle. Just do it. Say yes to your calling to be my disciple. Have faith enough to first say yes, trusting that if you do, the spirit – the courage and strength – will come. But you have to pick up the mantle of discipleship first – mo matter how inadequate to the task you may feel. First pick up the mantle and then you will receive your share of the spirit you need to fulfill your call.
Elisha knew he had received a double dose of Elijah’s spirit only when he put on his mentor’s cloak or mantle. I think it might be the same for us.
First, we make a commitment to the way of Jesus by saying yes to justice, yes to peace, yes to loving our neighbor as ourselves – all the while, like Elisha, not knowing how in heaven’s name we are ever going to actually transform our lives, ever going to actually walk the way of justice, of peace, of loving our neighbors as ourselves.
Then, when the commitment is made, when all we really have to rely on is faith – and grace – only then will we know that the Spirit has come to us as it did Elisha.
Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor of the Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
http://www.rvccme.org/
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)