Faithful God, your Spirit has filled the hearts and enlivened the ministries of prophets throughout history. As the mantle of your love rested upon their shoulders, may it now rest upon ours, as we listen for your voice and your call. Amen.
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We have now come to the end of the prophet Elijah’s life and story. And what a wild ride it has been! Courageously challenging the powers, principalities, and false prophets of his day, even when the outcome was uncertain or tidy happy endings couldn’t be found (as Mila reminded us last week). Running for his life from those same powerful people he challenged. Hitting rock bottom, begging for death, and hoping for a way out of this prophet business. And then, in that low moment, exhausted and feeling all alone, Elijah encountered God, not in the cacophony of chaos, but in silence.
As you may recall, when Elijah met God on the mountain he was told to go finish his prophetic work. And one of his remaining tasks was to anoint Elisha to be his successor.
And so, after Elijah leaves the cave and climbs down the mountain, he travels to find Elisha who is plowing a field. Elijah walks right by him without saying anything at first and just tosses his mantle over him. Evidently Elisha knows what this means, and he runs after Elijah and says, “let me kiss my mother and father goodbye and I will follow you.” “Go back,” says Elijah (and I wonder if it’s a test of Elisha’s persistence and faith). But Elisha only goes back briefly to tie up his loose ends. And then he leaves home and everyone he knows and everything that is familiar to follow Elijah. He will be at his side from that point on, as a disciple and apprentice, learning from him, witnessing his prophetic work, and deepening his own faith, knowing that one day he will have to do this on his own.
And now, as we come to today’s story, Elijah and Elisha are nearing the end of their journey together.
And once again Elijah is either testing Elisha’s faithfulness or he really just hates goodbyes (or maybe a little of both) because three times along the way Elijah tries to get Elisha to stay put so he can go on by himself without him. And three times, Elisha says, “as the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” He’s sticking with Elijah until the end.
They finally get to the Jordan River, and like Moses parting the Red Sea, Elisha parts the waters with his rolled-up mantle and the two men cross over to the other side into the region where Moses died. That is where Elijah’s prophetic journey will come to its end as well.
Finally acknowledging that Elisha will not leave his side until he must, Elijah asks him, “what can I do for you?” He wants a double share of the great prophet’s spirit. Is that something Elijah can give? Or perhaps it is all in God’s hands? But we’re told that if Elisha witnesses Elijah’s departure, his petition will be granted.
You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if in that moment Elisha might have been feeling a bit insecure, a bit worried about what would come next. Perhaps this request is a way of saying, “I hope I have your faith; that I can do what you do; that I’m up to the task of this demanding job of being a prophet.”
This goodbye is hard for both of them. Goodbyes are hard.
Suddenly, this otherworldly fiery chariot and horses separate the two men and Elijah is taken up to heaven in a whirlwind. It’s a dramatic departure. And this is not a normal earthly death. It’s an ascension. In fact, it leaves the door open for his return. And, as you may recall, in the New Testament some followers of Jesus wonder if he is Elijah returned to them.
Elisha is left alone. His mentor, teacher, and friend, is gone. He tears his clothes in mourning.
But then he picks up Elijah’s mantle that had fallen from his body and strikes the water of the Jordan. Nothing happens at first. Did you notice that? So, he calls upon God and tries again. And that’s the ticket. This time the water parts and he crosses back over the Jordan into the land of his people, no longer a protégé, but now a prophet in his own right.
Elijah’s mantle was a practical piece of clothing – warm, sturdy fabric that kept the elements at bay. And it is a symbol of the prophet’s legacy – his spirit, power, knowledge and authority given to him by God and his faithfulness to his calling. And now that prophetic mantle rests upon the shoulders of Elisha. After that first time Elijah tossed it over him, Elisha probably knew that one day this mantle would be his.
I suppose if Elijah is like a superhero, as Dave suggested a few weeks ago, his mantle might be like his cape.
And I like to imagine that when things got tough, when life was challenging, Elisha would wrap that mantle around him and remember that his mentor was still with him in some way, guiding him, encouraging him, even if he was no longer physically by his side. And hopefully that mantle brought him both bodily warmth and that spiritual fire that ignited Elijah’s life and made his prophetic witness possible.
Perhaps you have something tangible that reminds you of the wisdom, teachings, and legacy of one of your spiritual mentors. I have a few (including this blanket which was woven for me by my seminary field education mentor).
At some point, the mantle of faith – the mantle of the assurance of God’s love, of the life of discipleship, of the prophetic witness we are called to offer, must pass from the hands of one generation and be wrapped around the shoulders of the next.
Maybe you are a passionate prophet like Elijah (some of you are!) or maybe you have other gifts and passions. We all have something to pass along.
What wisdom and knowledge have we gathered in our lives? What lessons have we learned about God, faith, and life? What have we learned from our triumphs and our mistakes, our joys and our challenges? What is the spiritual treasure, the center and heart of our faith, that we want to share with the next generation? What was handed down to us that is important to hand down to others? What have we inherited that we have intentionally chosen not to pass along? That’s an important question too.
This is the faithful work of individuals – parents, grandparents, Sunday school teachers, pastors, and mentors. But is also our collective work as a whole church and as a part of the broader Body of Christ.
I think about this a lot. It’s part of my job. And I am particularly passionate about how we share our faith with the next generation authentically, ethically, and lovingly. We can’t guarantee that they will hang onto their faith into adulthood. But we can make sure we’re passing along a faith worth holding onto.
As someone who was raised in a pretty open-minded, open-hearted mainline Protestant church, one group whose experiences I’ve been learning from lately are the self-proclaimed “exvangelicals” (not everyone likes or uses that term, but it is fairly common). In general, these are people who are about my age, some a little older, some a little younger who were raised in fundamentalist evangelical churches in the 80s, 90s, and 2000s (many of them white, but not exclusively). And they have left their churches and left evangelicalism behind. Some have left Christianity all together. Some have found other expressions of Christian faith and spiritual community that do fit for them.
Some of the reasons they cite for their departure from their inherited faith aren’t surprising: overly literalist approaches to the Bible; narrow and exclusionary theology and understandings of what faith is; experiences of homophobia, transphobia, sexism, and racism; experiences of abuse and emotional manipulation; hypocrisy from leaders; a shame-inducing focus on sexual purity; narrow understandings of personal morality; too little discussion of collective morality/justice; and, especially in recent years, an increasingly nationalistic and authoritarian understanding of the intersection of faith and politics.
I’d leave too.
Now this is not to say that there weren’t good people in their churches who were trying to live loving and faithful lives and who were doing good and kind things for others. There were. But, for those who left, there came a moment when the systemic problems became insurmountable.
And I’ve heard a few different people talk about how this was a sort of existential crisis – their understanding of God, life, and the world was changing, even crumbling, and they lost a lot of their friends, community, and sense of belonging.
Some people who have left those settings and were willing to give church another try have found their way to other faith communities, including our own, looking for something different. So, we ought to be aware. And, as always, we can be compassionate, caring, and willing to listen if someone wants to talk about their journey.
I don’t bring this up to judge others, but rather to remind us of what a sacred, important, and weighty task it is for us to share the real heart and soul of Christian faith with the next generation. We ought to exercise great care and love in the process.
First and foremost, we can teach kids about God’s deep, abiding, extravagant, and inclusive love for them and for all. No shame. No fear. No strings attached. Just as they are. If they learn nothing more than that they are loved and called to love others, then at least we’ve done something right.
We can also teach them that faith is a journey, a joyous adventure, and a daily practice rooted in relationship with God and all creation. Faith is not just believing what someone else has told you. We each have to make faith our own. And, in fact, doubts, questions, shifts in perspective, and changes of heart are not only not a problem but are integral to a deepening spiritual journey.
We can show them how Jesus taught and demonstrated both personal and collective expressions of love – the call to be healers, helpers, caregivers, peacemakers, and seekers of justice – how Jesus and his spiritual ancestors like Elijah used their voices and their lives to speak truth to power and stand up for the marginalized. That is central to who Jesus was, not an optional side dish.
We can teach them to love the whole world, as God does, and to respect and learn from people of other countries, cultures, and ethnicities – all of us, made in God’s image. We can encourage them to seek understanding and appreciation for other faiths and wisdom traditions.
We can teach kids that scripture is meant to be examined, explored, and mined for meaning. We can invite them into the stories. We can teach them that asking hard questions of scripture is ok and encouraged. We can give them permission to disagree with literalism and claims of infallibility. We can show them that good interpretation and application involves seeking to understand the people and historical circumstances that shaped our biblical texts. We can invite them into a life-long, life-giving journey with scripture.
We can teach kids that there are both personal and collective dimensions to the life of faith. We can show them that they can pray and connect with God at any time and in any way that works for them. And we can show them that participating in a community of faith is a vehicle for connecting with God too – in our communal worship, in serving our neighbors together, in fellowship and relationship, in caring for one another.
As I think about the story of Elijah and Elisha, it’s clear to me that one modality for passing along our faith to the next generation is mentorship and apprenticeship. Kids need caring adults who are willing to share what faith means to them, how it has helped shape their lives. Kids need you!
You don’t have to be a biblical scholar or a preacher. But perhaps you have a story to share with a young person you know about how you experienced God’s love in a tough time. Or how you found the courage and spiritual strength to stand up for a cause you believe in. Or how you like to pray. Or why you serve and care for others and some of the ways you do. Perhaps you want to invite them along and show them your faith in action first-hand.
Find your way. The next generation needs to know what brings your faith to life. And yes, if they ask you one of those dreaded, complex questions you aren’t quite sure how to answer, you can reach out to me. And I’ll do my best to help. That is part of my job.
The mantle of faith is in our hands not too hold onto tightly, but to pass along with joy. Amen.