I Kings 19:1-15a; Man on the Run (II)

Elijah thought that he had traveled far enough, but he was just beginning his journey. The reason why he felt he had gone far enough is that he didn't understand the nature or purpose of his journey. He thought he was traveling to get away from danger. In fact, in God's sovereign purpose, he was journeying to become closer to God. But in this instance he had to leave society and every human comfort in order to find God. He had to have stripped away every human confidence and ability, even to the point of being ready to give up life itself, in order to meet God in a new way.

He is only told by the angel to "get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you" (v. 7). We have no sense that Elijah really knew where he was going. But he, imitating the forty years of Israel in the wilderness, traveled forty days and nights to the moutain of God. For every day in which the waters rose against Noah and the ark, Elijah traveled in the stifling heat and dry desert. But just as God was behind the flood, so God was behind the desert wandering of Elijah. And so he arrived at Horeb.

But still Elijah doesn't have an inkling about what is really going on. He is still overcome by his own oppressive thoughts, the thoughts that someone is out to get him. However, he has transmuted those thoughts as we normally do. When someone is out to eliminate us, to wipe us out, we tend not only to want to get out of the person's way, but we arm ourselves with thoughts of our own superiority or indispensability, as a sort of protection against the evil darts thrown at us by our foes. We are denigrated in some subtle or overt way. Our way of responding to this is to raise ourselves in our own estimation still higher, as if we need to supply what was lacking in the other person's attack and comfort ourselves with even more self-centered thoughts. That is exactly what Elijah does here. God speaks to him and asks him the leading question, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" (v. 9).

You would think that a smart person would have heard this question and said, 'Hm. God is speaking to me now. Maybe I have the privilege of having my life re-arranged or comforted by the presence of the Lord of the Universe. Maybe I should just shut up and listen to what God the Lord will speak.' But, instead, Elijah is overwhelmed with self-pity, and has to drone on and on. Instead of listening to God, the one source who truly can help him, Elijah speaks the longest sentence that is attributed to him in the entire Elijah narrative. So sunk in despair and self-centered pity is he that he can't even see that it is the Living God right before his eyes. He says:

"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" (v. 10).

Boo-hoo, Elijah. Poor Elijah. Manifestations of God's presence in every way in chs. 17 and 18; angelic guidance and strength in ch. 19, and all he can think about himself. And, notice how he has developed his despair in a curiously cancerous form. Not only does he say what is demonstrably true--that he has stood up for God and that many people have forsaken God, but then he twists things in an untrue and unhelpful way by saying that "I alone am left." It is a common cry among those who feel oppressed or neglected. They think they are the only one who really cares for something--be in God or the Church or doing a quality job or what have you. Elijah thinks that he alone is left of the faithful people. But, pray tell, if he is the only faithful one, who is it that joined in with him in killing the prophets of Baal? He didn't smite them single-handedly with the jawbone of an ass, to quote the Samson narrative. And, God will later tell Elijah that there were still 7000 people, a sizable army, which hadn't capitulated to Baal (v. 18).

In this condition, God handles Elijah with a very interesting series of experiences (vv. 11-14). He places Elijah on the mountain, maybe reminding him of his Carmel experience. But instead of revealing himself in the fire, which is what God did at Carmel, God wasn't in the fire. Nor in the wind. Nor in the earthquake. After the fire, however, there was the "sound of sheer silence." I love that "new" translation in the NRSV, for it points out the paradoxical character of God's presence with us. Just as on Sinai God revealed the Divine Self as "I will be who I will be" or "I am who I am," so God reveals the Self here as in the sound of sheer silence. The mystics of all ages immediately understand the paradox, even though all Elijah can do is repeat his complaint in v. 14. Nevertheless, God's point is made. Elijah is to return, strengthened, to continue his ministry under the divine protection.

Conclusion

This wonderful story, with the many layers of psychological depth in it, should be of help to us as we understand the complaints and struggles of faith of all--our parishioners and ourselves. I love this passage even more than the great "victory" text of I Kings 18. It isn't hard to win a dramatic victory. But it is very difficult to claim that victory when the King and Queen want your life. This story tells us how that is done.

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