Sermon Transcript: November 3, 2024
We continue on our journey through the narrative lectionary. Last week, we read about King Solomon, son of King David, who built the temple, and we heard his prayer of dedication. It was particularly noteworthy, you may remember, that Solomon acknowledged that this temple—indeed, no temple or human structure—can contain God. Toward the conclusion of that dedication, we also read how King Solomon asked for God to hear the prayers of all those who entered the temple, including and especially those of foreigners.
Today’s reading takes place a good bit after the time of King Solomon, and things have not been going well in Israel. In fact, there has been a kind of civil war, and Israel has split into the northern kingdom of Israel and the southern kingdom of Judah, where Jerusalem is. But our story today takes place in that northern kingdom, just after their king, King Ahab, marries a Phoenician woman named Jezebel.
Now, Jezebel is an interesting character because she does not worship the God of Israel but worships Baal. This, of course, displeases the God of Israel, who sends Elijah onto the scene to tell the people that unless they come back to the God of Israel, there will be a drought in the land. And so, we hear of Elijah’s arrival:
1 Kings 17:1-16
Now Elijah the Tishbite of Tishba in Gilead said to Ahab, ‘As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.’
The word of the Lord came to him, saying, ‘Go from here and turn eastward, and hide yourself by the Wadi Cherith, which is east of the Jordan. You shall drink from the Wadi, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there.’
So he went and did according to the word of the Lord. He went and lived by the Wadi Cherith, which is east of the Jordan. The ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank from the Wadi.
But after a while, the Wadi dried up because there was no rain in the land.
Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, ‘Go now to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you.’
So he set out and went to Zarephath. When he came to the gate of the town, a widow was there gathering sticks. He called to her and said, ‘Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink.’
As she was going to bring it, he called to her and said, ‘Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.’
But she said, ‘As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar and a little oil in a jug. I am gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it and die.’
Elijah said to her, ‘Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said. But first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterward make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied, and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.’
She went and did as Elijah said, so that she, as well as he and her household, ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied; neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah.
For the word of God in scripture, for the word of God among us, for the word of God within us: Thanks be to God.
Now, there are two types of prophets in the Hebrew Scriptures. We encountered one a few weeks ago, mainly through his mother, Hannah, who had a song—a prayer—that is later echoed in Mary’s Magnificat. She had a son named Samuel, whom she dedicated to the Lord. Samuel was a prophet, and he was the first kind of prophet. He is the kind of prophet who gets a seat in the king’s court. He gets to rub elbows with the rich and the powerful. He prophesies from within the king’s court, so he usually has to be politically savvy. He may have to take the word of the Lord and soften it a little, deliver it at the right time, and make sure he doesn’t upset the king or any of the other important people. That is the kind of prophet Samuel is.
Elijah, on the other hand, is the second kind. He is the prophet who is not invited into those halls of power. He is not in “the room where it happens.” He is out on the margins, a prophet from the margins, and usually the word of the Lord that comes from the margins is a word of warning or judgment. Elijah appears on the scene at a critical moment in Israel’s history. The kingdoms have split; there is civil war and unrest, and the northern king Ahab has married this foreign woman, Jezebel, who doesn’t even worship the God of Israel.
The people of Israel are worried. Elijah is worried. God even seems to be worried. And so God sends Elijah out with a word, a warning: “I’ll show you who is the true God by making a drought until all of Israel and King Ahab pledge their allegiance to me.” Elijah is sent by a Wadi.
You all know what a Wadi is? I used to have a Wadi out behind my house. It’s a large land area, often a divot, where water pools if it rains a lot. It’s not a pond; it’s temporary. After heavy rain, the water is there for a little while until it evaporates. That is where God sends Elijah, to a Wadi, where he can live off the water, and God will command the ravens—no, not the football team—the ravens of the air to feed him every morning and every night.
And so Elijah goes, and the ravens feed him. But eventually, because there is no rain, the Wadi dries up. So this is no longer an ideal spot for Elijah during this drought, which is brought on by the people’s infidelity to God. God then tells Elijah, “Go to Zarephath. There’s a widow there. She will take care of you.” But this is news to the widow, who is down to her last morsel of bread, her last drop of oil. She and her son are so desperate that they are ready to have their last meal and give up. All their resources have been used. Yet, Elijah shows up, asking for more.
They have two mouths they can’t feed, and here comes this third. And Elijah, so confident, so sure, says, “Do this, and I promise—or rather, God promises—that this jar of meal, this jug of oil, will not run out.” So Elijah does, and God does as promised.
This story treats time in an interesting way. We’re told that the ravens feed Elijah “for a while.” And the supplies last for “many days.” This imprecise language is unusual for the Bible, which is often very specific about time: six days to create the earth, 40 years of wandering, Abraham at 99 years old. But here we get “a while” and “many days.” And isn’t that just like our own lives? How long will the ravens feed me? “A while.” How long will the meal and oil last? “Days.” But what if the ravens stop coming? What if the meal runs out?
We know all about that anxiety, don’t we? The anxiety of the undetermined. This week, we are facing another close and possibly contested election, with results that may not be known for “a while.” How long is a while? Days? Weeks? A month? And how will we sustain ourselves? How will we ration our anxiety and fear?
Jesus tells us, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” So annoying, isn’t it? Can it really be that simple—enough for today?
But that is precisely what Elijah, the widow, and her son receive. They receive enough for each day: just enough water, just enough food, just enough oil to survive one moment, one day at a time. We like to store things up, to make sure we have enough food for the week, enough money for our lifetime. But God really only promises us enough. Because like Elijah, we are called to trust in God’s providence.
“The impermanence of God’s provisions”, as scholar Sarah Koenig writes, “does not negate their power or goodness. Instead, it is part of the difficult and joyful life of trusting God again and again and again.” Trusting God is a daily journey. We don’t live off the trust we had yesterday or the trust we hope to have tomorrow; we are called to trust each day.
And that is so hard, especially when we face situations that have us praying, “How long, O Lord?” How long until I know I’ll be okay? How long until I get that call about a diagnosis? How long will our natural resources last? How long until injustice is no more?
The call of faith is not to deny those worries and fears but to acknowledge them as part of our faith, part of the difficult and joyful life of trusting God again and again.
But do we just sit back and wait for things to happen? No. Like Elijah, we know that what we are given today is enough. The impermanence does not diminish its power and goodness. Every Sunday, we pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” And every time we come to this table, we proclaim God’s goodness in the ordinary things of this world: bread, juice, fellowship.
Today, we trust again. Today, we pray and give thanks to the God who faithfully provides, who loves all of us, and who gives us this day our daily bread.
Amen.
