I read a story once about a famous and
popular preacher. Thousands flocked to
his mega-church each week to hear his stirring sermons. However, behind those beautiful words and
beneath that golden tongue, the pastor was a fraud. Even though his sermons were inspirational,
the truth was that he did not write a word of them himself.
Now, this story takes place before the
advent of the internet when it is easy to lift an entire sermon online and
preach it – unethical as that might be - as one’s own – unbeknownst to anyone
sitting in the pews. Likewise, in our pre-technological story, nobody knew that
the pastor’s staff assistant wrote all those marvelous sermons herself.
Perhaps not surprisingly, one day, the
assistant’s patience ran out – and here is what happened. The preacher was speaking to thousands of
expectant listeners during Sunday worship, and, as he came to the bottom of
page two of his manuscript, he banged his fist on the pulpit (as he was wont to
do) and loudly read the words printed on the paper before him with his usual
dramatic flair, “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 but a single sentence. “You’re on your own now,
dude.”
And so it would be with Elisha, the
great prophet Elijah’s pupil, prophet-in-training, and would be successor. Perhaps you remember last week that we left
old Elijah in the streets of Damascus where he discovered that he was not
the only faithful Jew left in the world, but, as Yahweh/God had told him, there
in the dirty, noisy city, he would find 7000 faithful and like-minded men and
women.
Perhaps that is where he met Elisha,
the young fellow who followed him now like a faithful puppy dog, hanging on his
every word, soaking up his gestures, nodding his head vigorously at his
theology, and when he thought that Elijah could not hear him, imitating the
nuances of his deep and resonant voice.
Recently, Elisha had been clinging to
Elijah’s coattails even more closely than usual, surely sensing that each day
might be the last with his mentor - that, before he knew it, he would be on his
own.
After all, Elijah had been a prophet
for years and was verging on ancient – his hair gone white, and his matted
beard a silvery sort of gray. Elisha
feared that inevitable day of parting. Who would
continue to preach the passion and dreams of Yahweh/God to a stubborn people,
for surely the Jews were an unruly bunch?
In his heart of hearts, Elisha knew the
answer. “Here I am, Lord,” he whispered
to himself when he pondered the inevitable. But though Elisha saw the
handwriting on the wall, he was painfully aware of being woefully unprepared
for such a task – and it really scared him.
Perhaps that niggling fear of
inadequacy was why he insisted upon following Elijah – sticking like glue to
the old prophet – hoping that Elijah would drop a phrase that he might still
tuck away to use in a future railing against an errant king or when putting
down a pagan god.
But, on this day that we meet up with
the two of them, Elijah wanted a bit of alone time and so did his best to
discourage Elisha from tagging along.
However, it was pointless because our Elisha was a determined, if not
downright stubborn, would be prophet.
And so when Elijah said to the young
upstart, ““Stay here. God has sent me on an errand to Bethel.” Elisha replied,
“Not on your life! I’m not letting you out of my sight!” So they both went to
Bethel. And the
scenario repeated itself – two more times – like one déjà vu after
another.
“Stay here. God has sent me on an
errand to Jericho.” “Not on your life!
I’m not letting you out of my sight!” So they both went to Jericho.
“Stay here. God has sent me on an errand to
the Jordan.” “Not on your life! I’m not
letting you out of my sight!” And so they
both went to the Jordan River.
And in a marvelous little detail, the
author of this Old Testament book tells us that all the while a guild of fifty
prophets was tagging along at a distance, peeking out from behind the scrub
brush, watching the interchanges between the celebrities in our story – kind of
like the paparazzi of the ancient world.
Not content with just observing, however, they reminded Elisha at every
turn of Elijah’s impending passing.
“Did you know that God is going to take
your master away from you today?” “Yes,”
Elisha replied, “I know it. But keep it quiet.”
And so we find the whole group –
paparazzi and celebrities - at the Jordan River. Elijah says nary a word but takes off his
cloak – his mantle – rolls it up and strikes the water with it.
A few drops splash skyward but mostly
the water ripples and sloshes against the bank.
Then the water begins to swirl.
Little white caps form before, seemingly of its own accord, the water
heaves itself to the side, offering a pathway to the other shore – reminiscent
of the parting of the Red Sea when the Hebrew slaves escaped from Egypt. Elijah crossed to the other side, not
surprisingly followed closely by a wide-eyed Elisha – their relationship surely
by now recalling of that of Moses and Joshua.
Elisha does not know what to say about
this miracle that he has found himself in the midst of. However, Elijah does know, and so he
asks the question whose answer has been burning in the heart of his star pupil
for who knows how long.
“What can I do for you before I’m taken
from you?” Elijah the ancient prophet gently asks. “Ask anything.”
And Elisha’s answer spurts up from the
very depth of his soul. "Please let
me inherit a double share of your spirit."
“That’s a hard one,” replies Elijah
wisely. “You are like a son to me, but
it is not I who apportions the Holy Spirit.”
The two of them pondered that
realization for a bit – that the courage we need for the work we do and the
strength that is required for the ministry we participate in is a gift from God
because we certainly can not do it just by ourselves. And that gift is like a divine spark, a bit
of the Holy Spirit, burning within us.
I like to think that when Elisha
understood that phenomenon – that notion that God is still connected to the
world through this Holy Spirit business – and that through the spirit God is
still speaking - and speaking to us and through us, we who are mouthpieces of
the Almighty even when we feel woefully unprepared to be prophets.
I like to think that at that instant –
that aha moment - the fiery chariot appeared and in the whirlwind that followed
took Elijah up, up, and away until all that was left of the ancient prophet was
his cloak- his mantle that came fluttering down to earth and lay shapeless and
unmoving at Elisha’s feet.
The young prophet wannabe picked up the
dusty old bit of fabric – all that was left of Elijah. He buried his head into its ragged folds, breathed
deeply of Elijah’s scent, and wept.
“My father, my father! Mighty defender of Israel! You are gone.”
Elisha wept until all his tears were
spent. And then in the silence, with the
prophetic paparazzi looking on, the young prophet-in-training made a
choice. He took up the mantle – the
cloak - and walked to the edge of the Jordan River.
As the water gently sloshed upon his
sandals, he looked heavenward and whispered, “Where are you, God? Where are you when I need you?”
Then he stepped out alone into the
waters, and, with a fierceness whose origins he did not know, he struck the
murky Jordan River with the mantle. A
few drops of water splashed skyward but mostly it rippled and sloshed against
the bank.
Then the water began to swirl. Little white caps formed before, seemingly of
its own accord, the water heaved itself to the side, offering a beckoning
pathway to the other shore – reminiscent of the parting of the Red Sea when the
Hebrew slaves escaped from Egypt, reminiscent of Elijah crossing over just
moments before.
I like to think that Elisha smiled when
he reached the far bank, still clutching the mantle. I like to think he even unrolled the cloak,
shook it out, and with some degree of newfound confidence, put it round his own
shoulders before he moved on. After all,
surely he had “taken up the mantle” as our modern day saying goes.
I like to think that Elisha had another
aha moment as he started down the road.
I like to think that he realized that what he had really been asking was
not a double portion of Elijah’s fiery speech.
Nor was it a double portion of the gestures that he had practiced so
assiduously. It was
not even a double portion of the power the Elijah seemed to possess.
Rather, what he had asked for was a
double portion of Elijah’s faith – the faith which showed itself as courage and
strength to continue the work of the ancient prophet proclaiming God’s dream of
justice for the world.
Elisha was not asking for anything, as
Uniting Church of Australia pastor, Brendan Byrne wrote, that “will make his
own life more comfortable, will solve his problems and discontents, will give
him a safe haven from the difficulties and complexities of being. On the
contrary, he is, if anything, asking to have life made more challenging,
because he is asking for a life lived consciously and intentionally in
relationship with God” – not an easy request and certainly not one to be made
lightly.
Elisha got what he asked for too. He got the faith he needed to cross back over
the Jordan, back to where his ministry, his mission lay.
A double portion of faith: perhaps that is what we too ought to be
asking for if we feel called to be prophets in this crazy world we live in. Rev. Elizabeth Oettinger preached a sermon on
this same text at the United Church of Christ national meeting called General
Synod a number of years ago.
In it she said: “We have been afflicted with a sense of powerlessness, with the
doubt that whispers, “There’s not much we can do.” And yet, Oettinger reminds us that “with God
all things are possible. That affirmation is our history and our birthright, it
is our responsibility, and God willing, it is our future. We…need to be
infected with hope, with purpose, and with a sense of God’s real presence in us
and in the church. And we must pray that our infection be contagious, that we
might start a veritable epidemic of change to bring justice and peace to God’s
earth. If we don’t believe it can be done, then for sure it will never be
done.”
I think that, in his
heart of hearts, Elisha sensed that he could part the waters just as well as
Elijah could, that he too would prevail.
At least it was worth a try. Surely he would not have attempted such a
trick with the paparazzi looking on if he thought that he would fail. Surely he
trusted that God had indeed given him that double portion of Elijah’s spirit, a
double portion of the old prophet’s faith.
I like to think also
that this Old Testament story has the power to encourage us to believe that the
same spirit of faith can still a strong and vibrant force today, that it is
swirling about us just as the waters of the Jordan River had swirled about
first Elijah’s and then Elisha’s feet.
What do you
think? Is this same spirit – and likely
a double portion of it too - offered to us? Is it there for whoever among us chooses to intentionally
pick up the mantle and cross over the threshold of this sanctuary and out into
the world beyond? Does not the fact that
we intentionally choose to come here week after week mean that at some level at
least we realize that, as Episcopal priest Martin
Smith wrote in Sojourners magazine, “we are the prophets now, vested with the
mandate and endowed with the gifts for enacting the good news?”
We are the prophets now. Imagine that!
We are called to walk in the footsteps of Elijah and Elisha. And so this time the mantle lies shapeless
and unmoving at our feet. But surely the ancient prophets speak
to us. Can you hear them? “Pick it up,” they seem to say. “Pick it up and trust that you too will find
a double portion of the spirit.”
by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, ME
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