Time presents
both opportunity and limitation, and in the course of our lives we experience
it both ways. Availability of time
allows us to plan, and then carry out the plan. Limitations of time constrain our plans and often shape our
accomplishments.
We react
emotionally to both the opportunities and the limitations of time. Conceiving and carrying out a plan is
exhilarating. Under its spell we
often overlook the shortness of available time, and we overestimate the effect
we are having on the world. When the
world reasserts itself, and we see the limited nature of our success, we
sometimes feel humiliated or depressed.
It is then that we need to experience a “time out”, to step aside from
the pressures and demands of clock-driven time, called chronos by the Greeks, and allow God to touch us with kairos, the holy time that underlies the
whole creation.
There is an
example of this in the nineteenth chapter of 1 Kings, where Elijah, the
“Prophet of the Lord” confronts King Ahab of Israel with his faithlessness in
allowing Jezebel his queen to import the fertility gods known as Baals from her
native Phoenicia. Incensed by Ahab
and Jezebel’s persecution and execution of the priests of Yahweh, Elijah
challenges the King to send the priests of Baal to Mt. Carmel, and there to
enter a competition in the presence of the people of Israel. Ahab agrees, and Elijah sets the terms
of the contest: the priests of Baal will choose a sacrificial bull, prepare it
for sacrifice, place it on an altar, and pray to Baal for fire to consume the
offering. Elijah will do likewise,
calling upon the name of the Lord.
The efforts of
the priests of Baal prove fruitless, and their sacrifice is untouched by
fire. Elijah then prepares his
offering, pours water over the animal and the firewood, and asks the Lord to
consume it. Fire descends from
heaven and the offering of Elijah is burned. In the sight of the people, the contest proves the power of
the Lord, and the impotence of Baal.
Elijah then orders that the priests of Baal be put to death, and all acknowledge
his triumph.
All, that is,
except Queen Jezebel. Elijah’s
elation is dashed as he receives word that the Queen has demanded his
head. Elijah flees to the
wilderness. Going a day’s journey,
he takes shelter under a broom tree, and asking the Lord to take his life,
falls asleep. He awakens when touched
by an angel, who leaves him a cake to eat, and a jar of water to drink. Elijah eats and drinks, and then goes
back to sleep. The angel comes a
second time, telling him to eat and drink again, “lest the journey be too much
for you.” He eats and drinks a
second time, and then goes without food or drink for 40 days as he makes his
way to Mt. Horeb, the Mountain of God, where Moses had received the
Commandments.
At Mt. Horeb
Elijah comes to a cave, and lodges there, where the word of the Lord comes to
him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
Elijah tells the Lord how zealous he has been to turn the people away
from Baal, and that he is hiding to save his life. The Lord hears his story, and says, “Go, stand upon the
mountain.” Elijah obeys, and as
the Lord passes by there is a great wind, but the Lord is not in the wind. After the wind comes an earthquake,
causing the mountain to tremble, but the Lord is not in the earthquake. After the earthquake comes a fire, but
the Lord is not in the fire. After
the fire comes stillness, and there is a small voice in the stillness, asking,
“What are you doing here, Elijah?”
Once again
Elijah replies that he has been zealous for the Lord, and that Jezebel now
seeks his life. And the Lord
speaks again, “Go. Go, and return
now to the wilderness of Damascus.”
This story,
set so long ago, is contemporary in its message. Jezebel sends a message to Elijah: “So may the gods do to me, and more, if I do not kill you by
tomorrow.” One Commentator, Davie
Napier, paraphrased the encounter with Jezebel as follows: “If you are Elijah,
know that I am Jezebel.” It’s the
same message, but there’s a little different emphasis. “If you are a preacher, I am the
Queen.” “If you think you are
something, I am Somebody.”
Napier points out
that we have all dealt with this message all our lives. “You may be Howard, but I am your
mother.” Do you remember
that? You did something that
seemed pretty smart, you knew your mother wasn’t going to be happy, but you
thought you’d gotten away with it.
There are other times as well: “You may be Howard, but I am your teacher.” “You may be Howard, but I’m writing
your pay check.” Sometimes it’s
less personal: “You may be Joe,
but I’m Unemployment.” “You may be
Jane, but I’m Cancer.” Who you
believe yourself to be suddenly runs into what the world believes itself to be,
and the world usually has the power.
How do we
react? Usually we react the same
way Elijah did. The fundamental
urge is to get out of town, and we want to do it fast. We want to get to a cave. Either literally or figuratively, we
want to hide. We want to shut down
that force from outside that is denying our humanity, our worth, our insight and
our goodness. We experience “The
World” in this sense in our parents, our children, our spouses, our employers,
or employees, our friends, total strangers or even the community as a whole. However we get the message, we want to
protect ourselves. So, like
Elijah, we head for the wilderness.
We find our place of retreat, and we say, “Lord, why did you let me get
into this mess? Lord, just take it
away - I don’t care how you do it.”
And we lie down hoping for the Lord to swoop in and carry us away. If we’re far enough down we hope he’ll
have the mercy to let us die.
But what
happens? We wake up, and it is
morning. And there, if you’re
alert to it, is a piece of bread and a cup of water. As I remember the down times in my life, especially those
that hit me as an adult, where the consequences were most serious, someone left
me some bread and some water. In
the Old Testament, the word “angel” is often used of a person on a mission from
God, and by that understanding I have known a good many angels. Just when I think I’ve taken as much as
I can take, when I’m on the edge of making some rash decision that’s only going
to make things worse, there has been a little bread and a cup of water. It’s never a banquet - just enough to
get me through the crisis. And if
I have humility, and good sense prevails, I take it and allow myself to be
nourished.
Then there is
a voice in the stillness, that says, “Go a little further - let the Lord into
this.” At first I look for
something spectacular. Something
wild like a windstorm arises, but the Lord is not in the wind. Something frightening comes like an
earthquake, but the Lord is not in the shaking. The ordeal may be hot like a fire, but the Lord is not in
the burning. At length all this
passes, and there is just silence.
Napier retranslates this moment in Elijah’s story, “Elijah entered the
silence, and the voice of the silence was good.”
In the silence
is the word that reminds us of who we are, and Whose we are. In the silence after the storm comes
the word that tells us, “All shall be well, but not right away - you’ve got
work to do. You’ve got to go
back.” God sends Elijah back into
the dangerous land to do the dangerous work. He doesn’t promise him that his life will be spared, but says,
“In that work is where I am.”
Elijah’s is a
story about God’s way of providing what we need, that we may use the time we
have been given according to our calling.
When the world comes down on us we want to get away, and sometimes we
need to get away. And in those
times there’s a little food and a little drink provided for that part of the
journey. The word of the Lord also
comes at the moment when we’re ready to listen. It doesn’t tell us it’s okay to forget it all and go away
forever, but rather that if we can receive it, the days of our lives are for
the glory of God. There is a time
for doing, for spending our energy and our time. When our supplies are low, when the world hits back and
leaves us wounded, there is a time to recuperate, to be restored. And when we have fed on the bread, and
quenched our thirst, the time comes to do and to spend our energy once again.
What makes the
difference is our willingness to offer all the time we have to the God who is
behind all the times there are.
Living within the sequences of chronological time, we may draw
nourishment from the springs of Kairos
time; the only condition being that while we draw breath we obey the command to
“Return”, and offer our renewed time once more to God’s service in the world.
Howard
MacMullen
© September, 2012
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