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/
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