Scripture 2 Kings 2:1-12
Now when the Lord was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. Elijah said to Elisha, “Stay here, for the Lord has sent me as far as Bethel.” But Elisha said, “As the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So they went down to Bethel. The company of prophets who were in Bethel came out to Elisha and said to him, “Do you know that today the Lord will take your master away from you?” And he said, “Yes, I know; keep silent.”
Elijah said to him, “Elisha, stay here, for the Lord has sent me to Jericho.” But he said, “As the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So they came to Jericho. The company of prophets who were at Jericho drew near to Elisha and said to him, “Do you know that today the Lord will take your master away from you?” And he answered, “Yes, I know; keep silent.”
Then Elijah said to him, “Stay here, for the Lord has sent me to the Jordan.” But he said, “As the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So the two of them went on. Fifty men of the company of prophets also went and stood at some distance from them, as they both were standing by the Jordan. Then Elijah took his mantle and rolled it up and struck the water; the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and the two of them crossed on dry ground.
When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me what I may do for you before I am taken from you.” Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.” He responded, “You have asked a hard thing, yet if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not.” As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. Elisha kept watching and crying out, “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces.
Sermon
Years ago, a good friend of mine became interested in Judaism, and after a lot of reading and study, decided to convert. She went to a nearby temple she had attended and spoke to the rabbi. The rabbi’s response shocked and dismayed her. No. Being Jewish is hard. I wouldn’t try it if I were you. She tried to persuade him of her sincerity, and her sense that this was the right place for her to grow spiritually. But he was firm. Go away. It’s too hard. Go be something else.
Later my friend learned that this is the traditional response of rabbis to those who want to convert to Judaism. In fact, it’s a custom to turn seekers away not just once, but three times, as a kind of gentle test of their resolve. If they come back a fourth time, they are welcomed in. Then follows a year of study and prayer and worship through all the seasons before they can finally become Jews.
As the tradition goes, we have Elijah to thank for that practice. It’s patterned after Elijah’s rebuttal of Elisha’s desire to stay with him on this last day of his life. This passage tells us right up front that this is the day when God will take Elijah up to heaven in a most unusual way, and Elisha—the disciple who has been with Elijah for about three years—insists on following his beloved mentor, wherever he goes. After three refusals and three responses of Elisha insisting on staying, God comes for Elijah. After three refusals to accept a hopeful convert, that person is welcomed in.
Elijah is a remarkable figure. We first hear about him in 1 Kings, after Ahab comes to power in the northern kingdom—Ahab, who is notorious, one of the most awful, unfaithful kings of God’s covenant people. Adding to that, Ahab’s wife is a worshiper of Baal—a Canaanite god responsible for the weather. Ahab upends Hebrew worship and builds a large temple to Baal. Jezebel imports a large group of Baal’s priests and prophets. That’s enough for Elijah. He appears, and does everything he can to call out Ahab and Jezebel until the day God whisks him away, because not only are they terrible, they’re only the most recent in a long line of monarchs who have wandered far, far away from God.
But now Elijah’s work is coming to an end. Sadly, he is still dealing with awful, faithless monarchs. And so, he sets out on a pilgrimage to three sites that are associated with that time when God’s people ended their forty-year journey in the wilderness and entered into the Land of Promise. He and Elisha visit them in reverse order of the historical events. First, they go to Gilgal, the first place the Israelites encamped after crossing the Jordan River into Canaan. Next, they go to Bethel, and then Jericho, cities they conquered after crossing into Canaan, and before they camped. Finally, they cross the Jordan River out of the Promised Land. One scholar puts it this way: they are “backing out the way Israel came in.”[i] This, Elijah’s final action as God’s prophet and wonderworker, is also his last repudiation of those leaders who failed to keep covenant with their ever-faithful, endlessly generous God.
Elijah reluctantly allows Elisha to accompany him. Everywhere they go, other faithful prophets remind Elisha of the terrible loss he is about to experience, and he tells them to keep quiet about it. Why doesn’t Elijah want his disciple with him? Is it a primal thing, a desire to crawl away alone, like an elephant dying in the jungle, or a beloved dog who hides under the bed in her last hours? Whatever the reason, he doesn’t seem to want Elisha with him until the very end, when, standing by the Jordan River, he asks his disciple: Is there anything you want from me, before I go?
Elisha makes a bold request. “Give me a double-portion of your Spirit,” he says. Elisha is asking the man who has risked life and limb for his entire ministry, who has performed works of wonder, to give the disciple, not only the master’s Spirit, but a double dose. Here are just a few of those miracles. Elijah ensures that a woman and her son will not starve by causing their jar of grain to never empty, and their jug of oil to always be full. When the widow’s son dies, Elijah brings him back to life. In defiance of Ahab and Jezebel’s allegiance to the Canaanite god of thunder and rain, Elijah causes a three-year drought in the land, which none of the Baalite priests or prophets can fix. He humiliates those same priests and prophets by calling down fire upon an offering to the God of Israel, while they can’t manage to call down fire from Baal.
There’s more, but you get the picture. Elijah is a formidable person, anointed by God for great things, and to ask for double his Spirit, strength, and ability is an astonishing thing. But according to scripture and to the rabbis who comment on it, that is exactly what happens. Elisha performs twice as many miracles as Elijah and becomes every bit the phenomenon his beloved mentor was.
The moment of Elijah being taken up into heaven is extraordinary, and one that has been rendered by artist after artist. When it happens, however you imagine it, Elijah is caught up in a fiery chariot being pulled by fiery horses; now, he is silent. Elisha, on the other hand, is basically babbling… Father! Chariots! Horses! He can’t take it in. Understandably. Who could? He beholds an unimaginable sight, one most people couldn’t really process in the moment. But there is an additional factor: Grief. Grief at the loss of a beloved mentor. The text tells us that Elisha has taken his own clothes, and torn them in two, an ancient Jewish custom for the time of mourning.
Elisha has lost his mentor. But in a way, Elijah never leaves. The rabbinic tradition says, since he did not die, but was taken up in a whirlwind, he is still alive, and might show up at any time. This is why the Passover seder includes a place at the table and a cup of wine for Elijah. You just never know.[ii]
Elisha has received his mentor’s Spirit, twice over, so, in that powerful sense, Elijah is with him always, double strength. The imprints our mentors make on us are there for life. Whether we are remembering the wisdom, words, or actions of a parent, a grandparent, a teacher, a boss, or a friend, we are permanently blessed by all they shared with us.
And the unfolding of this story holds, I think, a powerful reminder for us about prayer. That same scholar writes,
Our prayers are often too small. We should ask God for so much that God says, “Woah, hey, that’s hard! Maybe ease up on me a little?” When Jesus tells the disciples he’s going away, he says, “Actually, you want me to go, because when the Holy Spirit comes, you’ll do greater things than I ever did.” Uh, greater than raising the dead? Feeding 5,000? “Yep. A double mouthful.”[iii]
This is a revelation for me. I wonder whether we 21st century people are too timid in our prayers. Do our post-modern brains logic us out of bold requests and daring expectations? Not long ago I was in the position of saying a blessing for the new director of a local non-profit agency. I referred to this passage and noted that Elisha asks for a double-portion of Elijah’s Spirit. Then I said something like, “Even if so-and-so has just half of what the former director had in terms of talent and drive, it would be fantastic!” Wow, I regret that now. Why underestimate God? Why settle for half? Why not start that person off with a heaping portion of blessing?
Why not pray boldly? Why not ask God for the moon?
And while we’re at it, why not seek to be the mentors we had? Why not seek to be twice the mentors we had. I know people who do this, and it’s a beautiful thing to see. I’m thinking of our young people now. Every time we have a Confirmation Class we ask the young people for three names of people in the congregation they would like to have as mentors, and then we do our best to get their number one choice for them. And let me tell you, the blossoming of that relationship is a beautiful thing to witness. But you don’t need to wait for confirmation class to take someone under your wing. You don’t need to have the church assign you to someone (or ask nicely, that’s actually what we do) to be a friend, to ask questions, to be just a little nosey, to say, I’m praying for you.
This is a strange and hard story to grasp, with some very down-to-earth recommendations to us as followers of Jesus. Elijah was one of his mentors, Moses was another. But I’m betting he had others… people who he observed close-up, kind people, wise people, people steeped in scripture, people whose names we’ll never know, but who shaped the character of the Messiah. Son of God and fully human. It’s a paradox, but that’s how I believe it worked. The best of humanity joined to God’s burning desire to be with us. Just like Elijah, Jesus is never really gone, but with us, always, ready to hear our bold and daring prayers, ready to mentor us as we mentor the next generation and the next.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[i] Jacob Byassee, “Commentary on 2 Kings 2:1-12,” Transfiguration Sunday, February 11, 2024, Working Preacher. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/transfiguration-of-our-lord-2/commentary-on-2-kings-21-12-6.
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] Ibid.