PENTECOST PROPER 7, YEAR C, 6/24/07

When I was a teenager the rector of my parish seemed to me to be larger than life. He was in his mid-thirties, tall, slender, handsome with wavy blonde hair and deep blue eyes, charming, and all the women were in love with him. He was a great preacher who could hold the attention of even the most calloused teenager. Above all, he was a nice guy who took a real interest in all of us. During my senior year in high school he took me aside and talked to me about colleges and encouraged me to apply to his alma mater, Emory. I said I couldn’t afford Emory and, besides, I probably couldn’t qualify. He said to apply and he would write some letters. I got accepted.

When I went to seminary he would periodically send checks from his discretionary fund and various endowments. When I graduated all my bills had been paid. He and another priest were my principal benefactors.

I had been in my first parish about three years when I heard the news. My former rector had been found at his home, in bed with the covers pulled up, drawn up in a fetal position, totally unable to communicate. He was taken off to a mental hospital in restraints and he would stay in that institution for the better part of a year. I asked someone who knew him well what had happened and his reply was, “His demons got the best of him.”

I hadn’t thought of my benefactor for some time until I read the lessons for this morning. Once again I was reminded that even the best of God’s servants have their demons to contend with.

Elijah is one of those figures that are generally described as “larger than life.” He so dominates events that he appears greater than most mortals. He appears as if out of nowhere. We are told that he was from Gilead in the north of Israel, but nothing is known of him before he appears on the stage of history. What is important is to understand the times because they are not so very different from our own.

It was a time when old alliances and power structures were changing and power was shifting to new, emerging nations. Strict adherence to the Law of Moses had slipped and morality was lax. Old regimes were crumbling and new regimes were coming to power. Fathers were handing over the reins of government to their sons. In Israel the United Kingdom of David and Solomon was divided among Solomon’s sons and generals and civil war ended with two kingdoms instead of one. Israel, with its capital at Samaria, lay to the north. Judah, with its capital at Jerusalem, occupied the south. Each struggled to make alliances to strengthen its position. King Omri, in the north, made an alliance with Phoenicia, or Lebanon, as we know it. Ahab, Omri’s son, would marry Jezebel, the princess of Phoenicia, thereby uniting the two kingdoms.

The problem with the alliance was that Jezebel and her people were practitioners of a new age religion called Baal worship. Baal worship was fun-it was all about fertility gods and goddesses and you can let your imagination run wild with the possibilities of what fertility worship could do for your Sabbath morning. Jezebel came equipped with 450 priests and 400 prophets to replace Israel’s worship of God.

Jezebel had no sooner arrived at the royal palace than this stranger from Gilead presented himself to King Ahab. Elijah informed the king that God would not stand for Jezebel’s institution of Baal worship and to prove it there would be a three-year famine. Before Ahab can call the palace guards Elijah is gone and flees to a remote part of the country. Sure enough, the rains cease, the rivers dry up, and the crops fail. Elijah sneaks across the border into Phoenicia and takes up residence with a widow and her young son. It is while he is there that he performs the first recorded application of CPR. The widow’s son falls ill and stops breathing. Elijah stretches him out on the bed and lies on top of him and breathes into his mouth. He does this three times and the boy lives. (That’ll get you one hundred points in the Bible Quiz at First Baptist Church!)

Elijah returns to Israel to tell Ahab that the drought is about over and he proposes a showdown between the priests of Baal and God’s servant, Elijah. The contest takes place on the summit of Mt. Carmel. The priests of Baal erect an altar, place on it a dismembered bull, and lay a fire. They are to call down the power of Baal to ignite the wood. Well, they dance and sing and pray all morning long. They even try mutilating themselves, but nothing works. Now, it’s Elijah’s turn. He builds an altar of twelve stones, one for each tribe of Israel, places the bull on the altar, lays the wood, and then he soaks the wood with water. (Elijah has a flare for showmanship!) He prays aloud and there is a clap of thunder and lightening ignites the wood into a roaring bonfire. The crowd goes crazy and Elijah seizes the moment to capture the priests of Baal and slit the throat of every one of them.

Elijah is on a high! This is the greatest moment of his life! He goes home thinking, “I’m the man!” The next day a messenger brings him a note. It reads, “God help me if I do not do to you what you have done to my priests!” It was signed, “Jezebel”. Elijah is terrified and he flees to the south. He leaves his deacon at Beersheba and goes on a day’s journey. By now he is completely depressed and is even suicidal. He prays to die. Instead, he sleeps. A stranger leaves him food and water. He wakes, eats, and sleeps. And then he travels across the desert to Mt. Sinai where Moses had received the tablets from God. He holes up in a cave. In the night he hears the voice of God speak, “Elijah, what are you doing here?” And then it all comes pouring out. Years of service and frustration, years of living on the run, years of fear and too little acclaim all spew forth. Elijah says to God, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” God’s reply is to tell Elijah to go outside and stand on the side of the mountain. As he is standing out there a mighty wind begins to blow, uprooting trees and moving boulders. Elijah waits to hear the voice of God because now he thinks only in these “larger-than-life” ways, like God speaking out of the wind, but there ids no voice. Than comes the earthquake, but no voice. And finally, there is the fire, but again, no voice. Finally, out of the deafening silence, there is the whisper, “Elijah, what are you doing here?” And again, Elijah answers the same bitter words. It’s all, “I, I, me, me, my, my”. And then God says to him, “I want you to go back. I want you to anoint new leaders and let them take care of running the government.” And then there is a long pause and God says, “And I want you to anoint Elisha as your successor.” Elijah is through. He is being retired. He stands there dumbstruck. And as God is moving away, sort of over his shoulder, he says, “By the way, there were seven thousand devoted followers whose knee never bowed to Baal.” The message is clear—“Elijah, you were never alone.”

What are we to make of this story? What lesson does Elijah hold for us? I think it has great significance for us church people, both lay persons and clergy. You see, what happened to Elijah is that he fell victim to the “Lone Ranger Syndrome.” That’s where you take on some task or enterprise or ministry and before long you begin to assume that it is “yours”; it is your domain, your possession. And you are the only one who can do it. It is no longer God’s and you are God’s servant. Rather, it is your’s and God is your servant. You begin to use personal pronouns a lot…”I, I, Me, Me, My, Mine.” And before long you begin to get angry and resentful and very, very tired. And then the depression sets in.

What the story of Elijah reminds us is that sometimes we have to be brought low before we can be lifted up. Sometimes we have to come apart at the seams before we can be put together again. The truth of the matter is that we have to die before we can be resurrected. Elijah had to flee in fear and go into the desert for awhile, rant and rave at God and pour out all his venom until he was exhausted, before silence came, merciful silence. And out of the silence came the still, small voice that said, “Now you can go back. Now you can do what needs to be done. Now you can rest.”

And last of all, Elijah, and hopefully we too, can hear the wonderfully good news that there are countless men and women, brothers and sisters, whom you do not even know, who share this journey with you. They are your companions and tour community and the Spirit of God moves like breath among you. Amen.