Accepting the Whirlwind (II Kings 2)

Even in seminary, there were folks saying, “Which one was it?  Elijah or Elisha?”  The two prophets with such similar names suffer in the memory of the Bible reader.  Elijah and Elisha—it’s sort of the Old Testament equivalent of “which came first—the chicken or the egg” in terms of keeping “who’s who” straight.  How I finally worked it out is not exactly high scholarship or rocket science:  they are in alphabetical order:  Eli-Jah and Eli-Sha. 

      Elijah is the better remembered of the two:  the older, more experienced prophet, a great servant of the Lord, who spoke out against the royal court and the recalcitrant people alike.  In last week’s text, we accompanied Elijah out on a journey into the desert as he lost his nerve and received a divine summons to reclaim his prophetic ministry.  This sort of text (I Kings 19) models for us a word of solidarity:  the Bible is not about “great, larger-than-life figures” detached or aloof.  From this sacred text, we learn a word of grace and encouragement that the prophets, priests, kings, patriarchs and matriarchs are more like us.  In turn, reading their stories is cautionary tale and word of hope alike.

      Elisha is often the forgotten prophet.  Other than this one scene, which tradition usually stresses is more about Elijah and his spectacular ascension into the heavens Elisha’s prophetic ministry usually is skipped over by the Sunday school quarterlies.  Elisha has a distinguished prophetic career, an equal thorn in the throne’s side, yet Elisha’s name goes a bit forgotten, eclipsed by his predecessor’s career.

      As they say, fame is fleeting.  Elijah and Elisha served for a season, though centuries later, some of their contributions are remembered, yet their names get muddled together.  It is reminiscent of a story told by a rabbi to a Baptist minister I know.  The rabbi claimed there are five “stages” of a rabbi’s life.  Using the fingers of one hand, the rabbi claimed that rabbis great or obscure are all remembered the same way: 

First:  “Who’s Jacob?  Huh?  Who is this Jacob?”  (bit of disbelief “Jacob” is “somebody”)

Second:  “This?  This is Jacob?”  (Meh!)

Third:   “Jacob!”  (with an approving nod)

Fourth:  “Ah yes, Jacob.” (Pause, then with a remembering sigh!) 

Five:  “Who’s Jacob?” 

For religious leaders, this story holds certain richness:  quite truthful and a bit humbling.  Our time is always for a season, whether years or decades pass, somebody else will take our place in the pulpit.  If you remember last week, Elijah was moping around, claiming he was the only prophet of God left.  (He was not.)  Ironically, you read further in this same chapter (I Kings 19), after Elijah got his courage and vocation back, he is told that Elisha is called to be his fellow prophet.  He finds Elisha in the middle of plowing the field, not exactly the first place you think a new prophet is to be found.  Elijah takes this in stride, calling the man to work along with him.  Elijah even tosses his mantle over Elisha’s shoulders.

The mantle Elijah carries is a fairly practical piece of outer clothing, made of heavy-duty materials (wool).  Used for warmth or cover, mantles were sometimes used as a sign of authority or respect.  Receiving a mantle was a sign of the respect given to the recipient by others.  Tearing a mantle served as a sign of deep grief.  The mantle wore by Elijah was a sign of his power.  Giving the mantle to Elisha was a sign of favor and trust in his potential. 

Curiously, mantles are not tailor-made.  The mantle is a large piece of material that is clasped around the person’s arms, which means essentially the mantle could be worn by anyone.   Elisha could have been dismissed as a rough and tumble farm hand, not the type of person you sent in to go toe-to-toe with the king.  Elijah came to Elisha with every confidence that this was the person God intended to lead.  The mantle was shared, not restricted.

A few years ago, my home church’s long-time pastor of thirty years retired.  His name was quite unique: Dois.  He served the congregation and community as a trusted leader, though as he retired, the church worried if they would ever replace him.  I had the opportunity to be one of the speakers at his last Sunday morning at the church.  A bit tongue-in-cheek, I said, “Now as you start praying for God to send you another Dois, be open to the fact God might send you a Doris!”  I admit it was part of my penchant for being ornery, though I thought a good word about God’s ability to bring about futures unexpected needed to be reminded.

Ironically, Elijah and Elisha share very little “screen time” in the narrative between the humble field and the great whirlwind.  The story focuses on the transition between Israel’s kings and Elijah’s prophetic work.  When it comes time for Elijah’s exit “stage up”, the two prophets are wandering around, seemingly with little rhyme or reason. Trace the path they take, and you see a bit of history recalled. 

As they travel far afield, they cross over the river Jordan, a call back to the time of Moses.  They go away from the familiar territory (aka “the Promised Land”) and travel to a distant place where Elijah and Elisha alike are tested.  Elijah wants to be alone, knowing something is about to happen.  Elisha does not want to let his mentor out of sight. 

Both prophets find that their expectations are turned around.  Elijah will be taken to heaven by the whirlwind and chariot, not by his anticipated death.  Elisha is given the challenge of moving onwards, pushed out of his comfort zone and now coming into his own. After the great spectacle of Elijah’s ascension, the mantle is left for Elisha to pick up.  He uses it to part the waters again, heading back for the challenges of keeping the people and the rulers in line with covenant loyalty to God.

Again, the story of Elijah, Elisha, and the whirlwind serves as a helpful tale for religious people trying to make sense of the life of faith.  Generation to generation, people serve as the leaders of religious communities:  that deacon who knows how to make a good loaf of communion bread and cut it “just right” for serving, that youth leader who took the kids on a mission trip (and didn’t lose a single one!), that denominational leader who led through a time of trial with great integrity.  No matter what, every person lives for a season.  We may worry about the next generation having a drought, but as Elijah learned, with God, lack is a myth.  One way or another, God provides.  The future is not to be feared but embraced with gratitude (and perhaps a bit of awe thrown in for good measure!).

The senior religious scholar Huston Smith was asked once what the future held for the world religions.  Smith has spent his life studying the many religions of the world.  He has written best-selling textbooks, lectured extensively around the world, and appeared on a popular PBS series with Bill Moyers.  As Smith considered the question, he paused for a moment then scratched his head for a moment.  In his measured tones, Smith said, “When I think of the future of world religions, my brain smears.”

            The audience laughed, sort of that knowing laughter that Smith had named what eventually we understand:  the future holds whatever the future holds.  We can work diligently or stand passively in the present.  We can remember the past with open eyes or dwell in past glories with little regard for the changes around us.  Nonetheless, the whirlwind of change comes.  The metaphor is apt:  whirlwinds can allow the “new” to move forward.  The whirlwind can bring disorienting change and a loss of what has gone before.   Whatever the whirlwind leaves is unpredictable, yet we know it shall come.

            Elijah and Elisha did not know what was coming.  One expected death, the other expected more time with a mentor.  The whirlwind’s topsy-turvy nature moved them in different directions.  Elijah is now remembered in the same breath as Moses (cf. the New Testament story of the Transfiguration of Jesus).  Elisha, though later less remembered, picked up the mantle and carries on.

            Once in awhile, I pass through the chapel and stop in front of the portrait of the Rev. Dr. Towart, pastor of this congregation from 1915-1948.   I ponder what it was like serving in an era when the nation was in the midst of one World War, and later in this same pastoral tenure, embroiled in another.  The Towart years would have included the challenges of living though the Great Depression.  I marvel at all of the challenges, upheavals and uncertainties of the world during this minister’s tenure here.

On this side of history, I ponder what the present and future holds for First Baptist.  We are living with our own challenges and our own uncertainty.  We may sometimes feel like the mantle placed on our shoulders does not fit, yet God calls us to be the people for this day.

            Every generation has its challenges.  Every generation feels inadequate in the moment, yet the ones who come later look back and wonder how we did it, living with the challenges of our day.  The whirlwind is still part of our lives, stirring us and prompting us to take less for granted. 

We may want to hang on, praying for a little longer to be mentored or guided through life.  We may find ourselves not quite ready to go on that last leg of the journey.  I suppose life is lived somewhere in the middle of this tension.  We do our best and in turn make room for another to take up the challenges.  Wherever we are in life’s challenges, may we know God’s blessing upon us.