Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year B; Chapel of Mary (Stonehill College).
Our first reading teaches us that, when
things feel too much, sometimes what we need is a nap and a snack, and then
everything’s OK. Well, kind of. I’ll get to why Elijah feels the way he does,
and what God does about that, soon. But before going there, I want to sit a
while with Elijah’s heartfelt, brutally honest prayer. And I don’t want to
minimize the kind of pain he’s feeling, because properly attending to his pain will
help us attend to our sisters and brothers in pain, and might even help us name
and understand better our own.
Elijah sits on the ground and prays for death. He doesn’t just feel a
little over-stretched; he’s lost the will even to live. And we hear this cry
today too. We hear it all too often. A 2010 study I looked at estimated that
60% of American adolescents experience passive suicidal ideation (not wanting
to live) at some point during their adolescence. I’d almost say that if we’ve
never heard anyone express this kind of loss, maybe we haven’t created a space
in which we can really listen. Elijah has a good deal of courage in this
moment, courage that enables him to tell someone. He tells God. Sitting on the
dusty ground, he calls out God’s name, and he tells him, as our translation
puts it, “This is enough!” Actually, in Hebrew, those three words—This is
enough!—are actually just one word: רב, which means “much.” It’s less a
declarative sentence as it is an exclamation: “Much!” So much pressing on Elijah
right now; too much. So, he tells God he’s done. He’s brave enough to be raw
and honest with God in prayer. And—here’s the first miracle in all this—sleep comes.
Prayer somehow gives him enough peace to sleep. It doesn’t always; but, for
Elijah, it does.
Now, how has Elijah gotten into this situation? He was a prophet of God
and, during his time, many of the people of Israel had turned from God and
started to worship Ba’al instead. There were many prophets of Ba’al leading the
people astray and the Queen, Jezebel, was encouraging this. Elijah had actually
started to have some success, bringing the people back exclusive allegiance to
God, through working great signs and wonders, but this, of course, threatens
royal power, and the Queen promises to have Elijah killed. So, he runs, not
just out of her jurisdiction, but far into the desert. And it’s when he’s here,
exhausted by the journey, thinking his apparent success was just another
failure because he’s about to be killed, that he slumps down and cries out רב, much, enough.
But God is always more. God sends an angel, and the angel comes with water
and bread from heaven for Elijah. The angel feeds Elijah. And then the angel
tells him to eat and go, to continue with his prophetic work, doing nothing to
take away the reality of danger. The angel says, “Get up and eat, else the journey
will be too long for you.” And the angel uses that same Hebrew word, רב, much. Translating more literally,
the angel says, “get up and eat, for the way is רב for you; much for you.” God,
speaking through the angel, has heard Elijah’s prayer. “Much!” Yes, it’s much.
Too much, Elijah, for you alone. “But,” God is saying, “get up and go, for I
will be with you, I will give you rest, I will feed you.” It is much, but God
is enough.
Elijah’s task, his commission, his calling, isn’t made any less ambitious,
any less grand, but he now knows God’s accompaniment in a more profound way. He
is rested. He is fed with bread from heaven. It’s still much, but God is
enough. You know, we have these great stories in the gospels of the disciples
out at sea, and there’s a storm, and Jesus comes, and suddenly there’s no
storm. And that’s great, but I always wished there was a story when Jesus came
to the boat on the stormy sea and, even though the storm was still there, Jesus
took up an oar and joined in the rowing. Because while both of those patterns
happen still, my experience of the spiritual life has a lot more of discovering
Jesus rowing alongside me, and a let less of storms magically disappearing.
This story with Elijah, this feels a lot more like discovering Jesus rowing
alongside us. It doesn’t speak of hard things disappearing. It speaks of a hard
journey, a difficult call, and assures us of God’s presence in that.
It’s not wrong to pray for things to get easier. Jesus’ disciples did, and
sometimes that prayer gets answered. But the prayer has to start with that raw and
brutally honest: “This is much.” Because God does call us to do hard things. To
pursue righteousness and justice, to seek to grow in holiness and love, is not easy.
And God rarely snaps the divine fingers and makes it so. God far more often, I
find, says, “I know, the way is a lot. But I’m walking it with you. Rest a
while, eat, and let’s keep going together.” Because just like Elijah, we too
are fed with bread from heaven. Here, in this place, from this altar, we
receive Jesus Christ, body, blood, soul, and divinity; pledge of accompaniment,
food for the journey.
Let’s listen, to those cries for help around us. Let’s make our own, to God
in prayer, and to those whose help we need. Let’s rest awhile and be fed here.
And let us continue our journey. For it is much, but God is enough.
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