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 and no one else. 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 a drought. 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 that folks I barely knew
would stop me on the street and ask that I pray for rain. I reminded folks
before the US Calvary built Ft. Concho, San
Angelo was part of the desert. The lake that dried up
was man-made. West Texas had originally been barren
and no amount of prayer was going to undo this reality. Needles to say, my theological
conclusions were not helpful. They wanted prayers, not common sense. In times
of draught, be they physical or spiritual, common sense always gets thrown out
the window.
That said, don’t try to make sense out
of this story. 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. He arrived
with nothing. Hungry and thirsty, Elijah called out to the first woman he saw
and demanded she bring him something to drink. Imagine if you dare 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 compassionate people but certainly there are some protocols
that should be observed. Obviously Elijah never read Emily Post.
“Woman, bring me something to eat and drink.”
The
woman responded honestly, “I have only enough for me and my son. We will eat
and then we will die.”
Elijah
replied, “Give me what you have and you and your son will never go hungry
again.”
What
does 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. Does she even have
a choice? 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 path away
from death and she took it. Once the choice was made, the miracle happened.
Each day the woman, the son and Elijah had enough to eat. But the son still died.
Death was not part of the plan. It
seldom is. Many times I have sat with families as they watched their loved ones
wither away. Folks have come to me and requested I pray this be their mother’s
last day. Was the request made on behalf of the mother? Was it made 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? The request is made by
someone who can’t bear walking into their mother’s room another time. Finally the
patient dies. Then, even when death is no
surprise, 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 correctly as the Odyssey
of the Civil War. For those of you who have not had the pleasure, the book is
two stories, told simultaneously, of a southern soldier left for dead after the
battle of Petersburg and a woman from Charleston he met briefly before leaving his home 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 along
the way, Inman finds his way back to Cold
Mountain. Ada survived with the aid
of women she has befriended. Miraculously they are re-united. Ada and Inman spend five days together planning
their future. Then, with the firing of a single shot by a
boy more child than man, Inman is dead.
How do we comprehend such a tragedy? In
our text this morning, once the relationship between the 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 how she had been chosen to play
a role in the survival of this agent of God. 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 now had a reason to live. Then 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 a man 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 a woman who had been kind to him. Elijah claimed this senseless act could
not go unaddressed 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 of grace, an act we might consider miraculous, breath was
returned to the lungs of the deceased. The
boy lived and God was praised.
This is a compelling story particularly
in our world where boys and girls, men and women, loved ones of all ages die
much too young. Can this text be helpful as we are challenged by death and the
presence of God in these tragic moments?
We are stepping into some dangerous
waters. How can we not be inspired by the brashness of the widow or the rage of
Elijah? How can we not believe that God has the ability to transform death into
life? These are questions to be pondered yet
questions that might leave us less than satisfied.
Death is not only a common occurrence but
death often 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. And in our grief, in our sorrow, in our perceived
loneliness, we grasp for answers as we ask the most basic theological question,
“Where is God?”
I suspect you have heard the names
Satchel Paige and Josh Gibson. Some folks have suggested they are the two
greatest baseball players to ever have laced up their spikes. Both played for
the Negro Baseball League. A contemporary of theirs you probably never heard of
was a pitcher named Rufus Watson. Rufus
lived to be ninety-nine. He was the son of former slaves. During his life he
served in the military, played ball, and made some money in real estate. He
also witnessed lynchings, an experience which caused him to spend a lifetime
wondering how folks could commit such atrocities then go to church and call
themselves Christians. Rufus was often
heard to say his life was proof that God meets people at the bottom of the
barrel. “When I was so far down that all I could do was look up, I always found
that God was there with me.”
Perhaps this is the only answer I have
to offer to the perplexing question of God’s presence in the tragedies of our
lives. The text does not say that God caused the death. What it does is affirm
that God will always compassionately respond.
But we want miracles. We want answers.
We want all those things which seldom seem to come our way…….
Until
we step back,
Until the emotions have been rescued from anxiety,
Until confusion has been transformed
into calm,
And then we realize,
even at the bottom of our barrel,
God was,
and God is,
always there.
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