We never know where God will enter our life unnoticed or by a voice we do not recognize. Sometimes it comes to us by the caring word from someone we do not expect. A note of condolence arrives from someone we hardly realized cared for us. There is an insight about grief and we wonder, "How did she know?"
When my elder brother died the note that meant to most to Mom was written by Helen who cleaned our house and sometimes sat for us when we were children. Those days long past, Helen wrote of how both she and Mom had stood with each other as each of their sons endured and returned from Viet Nam. She wrote of how deeply wounding it was to learn of Mike's death only years later when all seemed safe. She would remain constant in care as she prayed for us all in this time. It seemed the one note from the heart of life, from God that understood Mom's paralyzing grief. Here was one who could imagine Mike and all the hope he housed for us all. The actions of follow-through care would be the same heart opening.
I once sat with a woman monthly over several years as she came to terms with sexual molestation in her childhood. A therapist was her main help. I was just a spiritual friend and pastor. One day it really got to me and I blurted out, "I just want to smash your father to bits or tie him up where it hurts and watch him suffer." I felt really off kilter, angry from months of intolerable listening, unsafe as her pastor. I had to check in with a therapist myself to be sure I had done no damage.
Sometime later she would say it was the most shocking and helpful thing I had said. She heard God's care and judgment and comprehension of her pain in that moment. Who knew that, out of the depths of confusion, God might be heard?
Our story from 1 Kings is just such a tale of God's care and voice coming from the unknown place. Ahab (the 9th century king of Israel,) and his wife Jezebel “did evil in the sight of the LORD”; they worshipped Baal, the Canaanite god of storms and fertility rather than the God of Israel. This worship confused the cultural ethics of care as Israel had known grown to imitate God's care toward each other.
Elijah, seemingly on his own authority (“by my word”) and claiming to be God’s servant, has decreed a drought – apparently as punishment for Ahab’s waywardness. Elijah has not been commissioned as a prophet. Then God gives him instructions for avoiding arrest by Ahab and starvation. He shows himself to be God’s servant by obeying God’s orders. He, like the Israelites during the Exodus, is fed by God.
When the drought gets worse, God sends him to “Zarephath”, out of reach of Ahab and where Baal is worshipped. Elijah assures the widow, as he claims to speak for God, they will not starve. The miracle of her generosity and never failing jar of wheat and jug of oil shows that Elijah is indeed God’s messenger. That they have enough to eat is a miracle and it lasts to the drought's end.
And yet tragedy strikes. Her son dies most unexpectedly. The woman has no place in life without a husband and now a son. In a patriarchic culture, who will now speak for her, provide for her in the years to come? This will be the same crisis for the widow of Nain in our Gospel.
Yet this widow, a worshipper of Baal, reaching for understanding, interprets her son’s death as punishment for her sins. She thinks that hosting a “man of God” has brought them to God’s attention and now wrath. Elijah intercedes with God, pleading for hearing and healing, and God does respond. The boy returns to life. The Baalist woman recognizes the power of Israel’s God and asserts the validity of Elijah’s claim to speak for God. Elijah is indeed a prophet.
This is a story of God's word breaking in. First is the establishment of the notion of One True God. Then there is the providing for the holy man Elijah and those near by. There is here also the birth of vocation, and the conversion of one woman's life to the One True God who can act justly and compassionately. In this small corner of life, faith is restored. Hope born once in bread is born again in a child's life restored.
Healing is no accident in God's reign. Sometimes it comes by miracle, some divine intervention. Some strongly devout being asks for our attention and then our hope. Something like a bit of flour and a bit of oil and a generosity that we share it. From that moment things shift. We trust, our needs are met for one day and then another until some long patch of days and of struggle becomes wholeness. It can be like my mother getting through the first day of grief and then a week and then a month and then a year and then a lifetime. It never goes fully away. But the notes help, the time helps and in her, in us, grows a resource to help others heal and find wholeness. Demented grief becomes in time an ointment of another's healing.
Healing happens because we reach out or some one does toward us. We touch the bier which carries our hurt. Perhaps the touch is a hand on our shoulder, a prayerful palm open to ours, an ear which listens, a care package which feeds more than our belly, a word of life-wisdom hard learned. Sometimes, just sometimes, it is a cry of, "This is too much! Things like this must stop! You have been wronged!" And God is seen behind it equally disturbed and healing begins in a new way.
You never know when God will use you. Look out this week. You may be the place where healing may enter life.
Why is it that God likes to come through our care?
Elijah, seemingly on his own authority (“by my word”) and claiming to be God’s servant, has decreed a drought – apparently as punishment for Ahab’s waywardness. Elijah has not been commissioned as a prophet. Then God gives him instructions for avoiding arrest by Ahab and starvation. He shows himself to be God’s servant by obeying God’s orders. He, like the Israelites during the Exodus, is fed by God.
When the drought gets worse, God sends him to “Zarephath”, out of reach of Ahab and where Baal is worshipped. Elijah assures the widow, as he claims to speak for God, they will not starve. The miracle of her generosity and never failing jar of wheat and jug of oil shows that Elijah is indeed God’s messenger. That they have enough to eat is a miracle and it lasts to the drought's end.
And yet tragedy strikes. Her son dies most unexpectedly. The woman has no place in life without a husband and now a son. In a patriarchic culture, who will now speak for her, provide for her in the years to come? This will be the same crisis for the widow of Nain in our Gospel.
Yet this widow, a worshipper of Baal, reaching for understanding, interprets her son’s death as punishment for her sins. She thinks that hosting a “man of God” has brought them to God’s attention and now wrath. Elijah intercedes with God, pleading for hearing and healing, and God does respond. The boy returns to life. The Baalist woman recognizes the power of Israel’s God and asserts the validity of Elijah’s claim to speak for God. Elijah is indeed a prophet.
This is a story of God's word breaking in. First is the establishment of the notion of One True God. Then there is the providing for the holy man Elijah and those near by. There is here also the birth of vocation, and the conversion of one woman's life to the One True God who can act justly and compassionately. In this small corner of life, faith is restored. Hope born once in bread is born again in a child's life restored.
Healing is no accident in God's reign. Sometimes it comes by miracle, some divine intervention. Some strongly devout being asks for our attention and then our hope. Something like a bit of flour and a bit of oil and a generosity that we share it. From that moment things shift. We trust, our needs are met for one day and then another until some long patch of days and of struggle becomes wholeness. It can be like my mother getting through the first day of grief and then a week and then a month and then a year and then a lifetime. It never goes fully away. But the notes help, the time helps and in her, in us, grows a resource to help others heal and find wholeness. Demented grief becomes in time an ointment of another's healing.
Healing happens because we reach out or some one does toward us. We touch the bier which carries our hurt. Perhaps the touch is a hand on our shoulder, a prayerful palm open to ours, an ear which listens, a care package which feeds more than our belly, a word of life-wisdom hard learned. Sometimes, just sometimes, it is a cry of, "This is too much! Things like this must stop! You have been wronged!" And God is seen behind it equally disturbed and healing begins in a new way.
You never know when God will use you. Look out this week. You may be the place where healing may enter life.
Why is it that God likes to come through our care?
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