Speak Up! I Can't Hear You

I Kings 17:8-16; Luke 7:1-17

 

        “And then the son died.”

        Last week we began a brief journey into the stories of Elijah, a man Elie Wiesel called, “the toughest, fiercest, most irascible, inflexible character in all Hebrew scripture.” Elijah did not talk, he commanded. He listened to only one voice. When he was alone, he was the loneliest creature on earth. When he was surrounded by crowds, he was even lonelier. Elijah was a man of extremes. He rejected weakness and compromise. His severity and rigor were legendary. Elijah was and still is larger than life, particularly in the Jewish faith.

        But the son still died.

        This morning we only read part of the story. When Elijah appeared on the political scene, Israel was in the midst of a great drought. I not sure if you folks living in the lushness Nelson County can fully appreciate this. When I lived in West Texas we once went nine months without a drop of rain. Nothing even pretended to grow. Lakes and rivers ceased to exist. Bottled water was a necessity rather than a luxury. We went so long without even a cloud folks I barely knew would stop me on the street and ask me to pray for rain. I reminded folks West Texas had originally been barren and no amount of prayer was going to undo this reality. Needless to say, my theological conclusions were not helpful. They wanted action, not common sense. In times of draught, be it physical or spiritual, rational thought always gets thrown out the window.

Elijah was commanded by God to go to the city of Zarephath. Elijah was told he would meet a woman who would take care of his every need. Elijah arrived with nothing. Hungry and thirsty, Elijah called out to the first woman he saw and demanded she bring him something to drink. Imagine what this woman must have thought. This wild looking man shows up out of nowhere and demands instant service.  Elijah expected the woman to drop everything she was doing just to respond to his needs. I like to think we are a compassionate people but certainly there are some protocols that should be observed.

        What should the woman do? Being a widow she had no rights, no privileges, no voice. Being a widow she had resigned herself and her son to death. But what if this wild man could reverse her life? It is amazing how many folks down to their last dollar will buy a lottery ticket.  I am not making social commentary, I am just stating facts. A desperate woman was offered a mind-boggling alternative to death and she took it. Then a miracle happened. Each day the woman, the son and Elijah had enough to eat.   But the son still died.

        Death is never part of the plan. Many times I have sat with families as they watched their loved ones wither away. People often request I pray for death. Was the request made on behalf of the dying or by someone who could not go through another day of sitting, and waiting, and hoping for a miracle no one expected. Does the reason really matter? Then patient dies.  Even when death is no surprise, often emptiness enters the room and the survivor exclaims, “I feel so alone.”

        That emptiness is compounded when death catches us by surprise. I remember reading Charles Frazier’s book Cold Mountain a few years ago. I have heard it described as the Odyssey  of the Civil War. For those of you who have not had the pleasure, the book is two stories, told simultaneously. Inman is a southern soldier left for dead after the battle of Petersburg. Ada is a woman from Charleston Inman met briefly before the war at Cold Mountain. Inman decides to desert and make his way back home. Ada, after the death of her father, decides to stay at Cold Mountain in hopes that Inman will return. Both suffer greatly as the insanity of war makes each day more tragic than the last. Through the help of strangers, Inman finally arrives at Cold Mountain and miraculously they are re-united. Ada and Inman spend five days together planning their future.   Then, with the firing of a single shot, Inman is dead.

        How do we comprehend such a tragedy? In our text this morning, once the relationship between Elijah and the widow was established it appeared Elijah would have a place to reside until the draught was over. The widow must have wondered why she had been chosen to play a role in the survival of this agent of God. Yet she must have silently given thanks that Elijah’s good health also guaranteed the survival of her family. Then, for no apparent reason, the son dies. The widow is outraged. Before Elijah’s arrival she had prepared for the death of both her and her son. But when the prophet appeared all her troubles seem to disappear. Like Inman’s arrival at Cold Mountain, death had been trumped by the possibility of life. The woman finally had a reason to live then all hope was taken from her. She screamed at Elijah, “What have you against me, O man of God? Why have you caused the death of my son?”

        Elijah the strong, Elijah the faithful, Elijah the inflexible suddenly becomes Elijah the possessed. Rather than defend himself, Elijah challenged God on behalf of the widow. This is not a moment of quiet prayer but the rage of a mad man declaring God had killed the only child of the one person who showed him kindness.  Elijah claimed the death to be a senseless act and argued that God had no right to kill the child.

        These were bold words by a bolder man.  These were words that not only fell on the ears of God, but words that challenged the very heart of God. In an act of compassion, an act we might even consider miraculous, breath was returned to the lungs of the deceased.  The boy lived and God was praised.

        Perhaps I am stepping into dangerous waters but how can we not be inspired by the brashness of the widow and the rage of Elijah? If we believe God has the ability to transform death into life, then why doesn’t it happen more frequently?   Asking this kind of question can leave us less than satisfied.

        While death is a common occurrence, death still finds us in that tragic place beyond what we think we can bear. The timing of death is seldom convenient. Logical thought escapes us at a time when we need it the most. In our grief, in our sorrow, in our perceived loneliness, we grasp for answers and ask the most basic question of anyone’s faith, “Where is God?” 

        As a minister, I confess I often reach into my bag of well-worn phrases and suggest, “God is always with us.” While I believe this to be true, sometimes, when the son dies, those words seem so hollow.         What we want is a miracle. What we want is for the extinguished spark of life to burn once again.

But all we get is Elijah.

Inexplicably, perhaps now I understand why.

        Elijah is the one who appears to console and encourage those who have lost hope.

        Elijah is the one who stands in the midst of every tragedy, every agony, every tear, and every loss.

        Elijah is the one who understands our suffering and argues with God concerning the sacredness of life.

Elijah is not the Messiah but the one who points us in the Messiah’s direction when not today, and perhaps not even tomorrow, but eventually, hearts will be healed, tears will be dried and life will once again triumph over death.

Who is this mysterious stranger who appears from the wilderness and reluctantly wrestles with death?

It is you, each time you hold the hand of someone in pain.

It is you, each time you listen to someone speak until they have nothing left to say.

It is you, each time you bring a plate of food or a cup of water to someone who thinks they are not thirsty.

It is you, each time you care for a broken or angry heart.

We cannot stop death. But thanks be to God, we can help someone return to the land of the living.        

To God be the glory.  Amen.