The Third Sunday after Pentecost
1 Kings 19:1–15a
Elijah is coming off the greatest victory of his life, but you wouldn’t know it by how poorly he has been feeling. Elijah has been struggling with the loyalty of the people of Israel. Will they follow יהוה YHWH, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, or will they follow Ba‘al? YHWH is the ancestral and covenantal God of the Israelites, often referred to as Adonai, “the Lord” or El, the general semitic word for “god.” In current Jewish tradition, the name YHWH is thought to be too holy to speak aloud, and so substitutes are used.
Funnily enough, the same is true with the god Ba‘al. Ba‘al literally means “lord, master, owner, or husband.” It’s a title that can be used to refer to a number of different gods, as well as humans. It might be used as a substitute if you think that the god’s real name is too holy to speak. At certain periods in history, we think it was even used to refer to Israel’s God. But in this moment in history, during Elijah’s lifetime, there is a strict distinction between the two. However, we’re not entirely sure which god is being referred to with the title Ba‘al here. It’s likely either Ba‘al Melqart, the chief god in the pantheon of Tyre in modern Syria, or Ba‘al Shamem, the chief god in the Canaanite pantheon, modern Israel/Palestine.
So what’s the big deal? Why does it matter if the people of Israel are worshipping God by the name YHWH or by the name of Ba’al? In fact, these two deities historically shared quite a bit in common. They are both gods of storms and fertility. Those two concepts are closely connected in the ancient near east. In order for crops to grow, you need rain. Unlike in western Oregon, rain in Israel was not a given. Droughts, sometimes lasting several years, where a major concern. The continuation of life itself, then, depends on the availability of rain. Asking a deity for rain is a matter of life and death.
In fact, that was Elijah’s great victory just a chapter earlier. The land has been in drought for years. Simultaneously, there is a religious conflict. On one side are the King and Queen and the prophets of Ba‘al. On the other side is Elijah. They have a public competition. Each side prepares an altar with a sacrifice and prays to their god to bring down fire from heaven to burn the sacrifice. The prophets of Ba‘al try every ritual they know, all day long, including offering their own blood, but nothing happens. Before praying to YHWH, Elijah dowses his altar with buckets and buckets of water. Once he prays, fire comes down from heaven, consuming the offering and all of the water. Once Elijah has made this public demonstration of YHWH’s power, it begins to rain, and life is renewed.
Elijah was trying to connect the people with a covenantal God. Ba‘al doesn’t have a relationship with the people. Ba‘al doesn’t have a covenant with the people. Ba‘al is transactional. Offer him sacrifices, and he may repay you with rain, or with victory in battle. But YHWH doesn’t just want your sacrifices. YHWH wants your soul, your essence, your very being, not to consume it, but to love it, to care for it, to nurture it, to bind it in community with Godself and with God’s people.
Elijah is triumphantly vindicated in the most spectacular and public of ways. He should be delighted. He has won, hasn’t he?
But he’s not. Elijah is done in and exhausted by the experience. He is, in fact, so overwhelmed and discouraged that he wants to die. He is ready to die not because he is ill or injured, but because he is exhausted, discouraged, and depressed. Today we would call it suicidal ideation. He thinks he has failed. He thinks that all of his work is for nothing. And he doesn’t blame the people for failing to listen to him. He blames himself. “It is enough; now, O YHWH, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” He doesn’t say, “These people have been unfaithful.” He says, “I… I am no better than my ancestors.” I deserve death.
Completely spent, Elijah goes to sleep. While he is asleep, a miracle happens. An angel comes to visit him. The angel touches Elijah to wake him up. And the angel says, “Get up and eat.” That’s all, just get up and eat. And Elijah sees that there is food for him there. And I really love this detail. The food is a cake that has been cooked on hot stones. We know other stories of miraculous food. Manna and quail in the desert. Multiplied loaves and fish. Supplies of flour and oil that never run out. But in this story, the angel doesn’t just show up with heavenly food. The angel shows up, starts a fire, and bakes the cake right there on the hot stones, right by where Elijah is sleeping. Just something about the idea of an angel cooking by the campfire delights me.
Elijah eats the cake, and he drinks some water that the angel has brought in a jug, and he goes back to sleep. Now that I think about, maybe the angel didn’t just show up with a jug of water. Maybe they brought a jug, walked down to the stream, filled it up, and brought it back for Elijah. In any case, Elijah is up just long enough to eat and drink, and then he goes right back to sleep.
When I was in high school, I was incredibly busy, and I put tons of pressure on myself. I know, you’d never guess it by how chill and relaxed I am now. There would often be times when I just worked beyond my limit. The big papers to right, and the big tests to take, and the important concerts to play in, and I’d be getting sick, but the show must go on, right? And after the concert was over, maybe I’d think then it was okay to stay home sick. Or maybe the weekend or a break would come up, and I’d just collapse. I might sleep for 15 hours straight. And I can remember my dad or my mom putting their hand on my back, giving a little shake to wake me up, and saying, “Get up, you need to eat something.” If it was my dad, then it was always breakfast, no matter what time of day it was. Pancakes, maybe, or a omelette, or fried bread. And I can remember sometimes I would get up, eat my cooked breakfast, and then go right back to bed and sleep for another eight hours.
That seems to be what Elijah did too. Eventually, the angel wakes him up again. He reaches out and touches Elijah again. “Elijah, get up. You have to eat something.” And this second time, the angel adds, “Or the journey will be too much for you.” “Get up and eat, or the journey will be too much for you.”
So Elijah complies. He eats his fresh, stone-griddled pancakes, he drinks his water, and he starts out on his journey. Forty days, we’re told, he traveled, without anything to eat. Those must have been some pretty good pancakes. He arrives at Mt. Horeb, also known as Mt. Sinai, the sacred mountain of God, where Moses received the commandments of God. The way it’s described in the bible, both in Moses’s time and in Elijah’s time, it must have been an active volcano.
He climbs up on the mountain, finds a cave that seems safe enough, and falls asleep again. In the morning, he hears God’s voice. “Elijah, why are you here?” Even after experiencing all of these miracles, Elijah is still in despair. He’s convinced that all of his work has been for nothing. He has failed God. He has failed the people he was sent to lead. He’s ashamed of himself. And he’s still suicidal. He wants to die. He wants to make the pain go away.
God is gentle with Elijah. God tells him to come out of his cave, to go out onto the face of the mountain, because God himself, YHWH the almighty, is going to pass by in person.
And we know this part of the story. There’s a powerful wind, so strong that the mountain begins to break apart and cause avalanches. But YHWH wasn’t in the wind. Then there is an earthquake. The entire mountain trembles and shakes. But YHWH wasn’t in the earthquake. Then there is volcanic fire, sulphur and ash. But YHWH wasn’t in the fire. And after the fire, what comes next? A thin, quiet whisper of a voice. A sound of silence. Elijah covers his face with his coat, because he is in the presence of God.
And a voice asks Elijah the same question. “Elijah, what are you doing here?” And despite having just experienced the immediate presence of God, Elijah gives the same answer. Like, the exact same answer, verbatim. He hasn’t learned anything. He still sees himself as a failure. He doesn’t have it in him to continue the mission.
And God finally takes “No” for an answer. Okay Elijah, I get it, you’re done. I have just one last thing for you. Go anoint a new king in Damascus. Go anoint a new king in Israel. Then go find Elisha Shaphatson. Anoint him prophet, and he’ll take over for you. It’s time for you to move on, Elijah.
I have to admit, I feel some camaraderie with Elijah. I came here as your pastor at a very difficult time. It was difficult for everyone. I think we’re all still trying to heal the mental scars of COVID, lockdown, and isolation. My first couple years here were lonely work. Coming into this sanctuary every week, alone, preaching to a camera in this huge empty sanctuary, a room where I had never seen any gathered people. It was hard.
But there’s more than that. I often feel like I’ve failed you. I’ve felt like the skills and gifts that I have are not the skills and gifts that you have needed over these five years. And I blame myself for not being the pastor that you have needed. How true that is is up to God to decide. I suspect that, like Elijah, I’m perhaps being overly dramatic in my own self-assessment.
But it any case, we have come to the same moment. It is time for me to pass the mantle on to another. Rev. Rhett Ansley has been assigned as your new pastor.
And I have to say, I am excited for your future. I’m really excited about the gifts and graces that Pastor Rhett is bringing to this place. I think he is just the leader that you need to take your next steps in faith. And I will be praying for his success and for yours.
I’m also excited about the new steps of hospitality that you’re taking. The change of appointments is kind of a reminder, right? How are we at welcoming? Maybe we should get in the habit of wearing name tags, so that it’s easier for Pastor Rhett and his family to learn our names. But you know what, that also means it will be easier for any visitor or new member to learn your names. Maybe we should rope off some of the pews so that we can sit closer together, so we can feel like more of a community? It’s great, and I applaud you for it.
I’m excited about your emerging collaboration with Hillsboro and Cornelius. I know that every time anyone mentions this, they’re quick to say, “This isn’t about closing churches.” And that’s right. There’s no master plan. The collaborative meetings were not initiated by the conference, or by the Bishop, or by the District Superintendent. They emerged from the laity of these three congregations. So there’s no secret plan from the hierarchy to close any churches. Finding ways to work together and support each other is not a back-door way of forcing a church closure.
But I want to warn you against making that an article of faith. I want to remind you that the church is not a building. The church is not a steeple. The church is not a resting place. And you can finish it with me: the Church is a people. This church is not the building. It is you: the people. And if, at some time in the future, God leads you to be the church somewhere other than this building, that does not mean that a church is closing. It means that the church is on the move. And there are few things as powerful or as exciting as a church that’s on the move.
You have a great journey of faith in front of you. And on my last Sunday with you, I want to share with you the most powerful gift I know: the sacrament of Holy Communion. Literal bread for the journey. Get up, church, and eat. Or the journey will be too much for you. Receive the grace of Jesus Christ.