The Whirlwind
2 Kings 2:1-12; Mark 9:2-9
The sermon title for today (“The Whirlwind”) is taken from the 2 Kings story of Elijah being taken up into heaven, specifically verse 11 of chapter 2: “Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven.”
It’s an interesting image, for two reasons at least. First, because this particular word translated from the Hebrew as “whirlwind,” is translated from a word that indicates the spirit-presence of God. There is another (different) Hebrew word for “whirlwind” that indicates something more like a tornado or hurricane, but this word – this version of the word “whirlwind”—is a word that indicates God-presence. It’s the same kind of “whirlwind” out of which God speaks to Job. It’s the same word that appears in Isaiah 40 and in Jeremiah 23, where it shows up in these phrases: “he blows upon them,” and “the storm of the Lord.” It’s almost like a Pentecost kind of wind. It sounds like that anyway.
The other interesting thing about the “whirlwind” as it appears in 2 Kings, chapter 11 – the whirlwind that takes Elijah up to heaven – is that it isn’t the only amazing, dazzling, out-there thing that is going on in this story. First there is the parting of the waters, as Elijah strikes the water with his rolled up mantle, and then, immediately before Elijah is taken up in the wind, the text says, “a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them” (that is, Elisha and Elijah). You already got that reference right? You were listening to the prelude, I assume, so maybe you already recognized the connection between the old spiritual “Swing low, sweet chariot,” and this portion of scripture. Well, if not, here it is: this is the sweet chariot (which is really a chariot of fire, apparently) that is “comin’ for to carry me home” – to heaven, that is. And we know this is the scripture text that inspired that song, because in addition to the reference to the chariot coming, there is also another verse in that old spiritual that refers to “looking over Jordan” which is where Elijah and Elisha are at the moment when all this happens.
So, we’ve got, in this 2 Kings version of “the whirlwind,” this heaven bound cyclone, this breath of God, this promise of the future, this preview of Pentecost. This whirlwind is a God-wind.
But then, on the other hand, we’ve got the whirlwinds with which we are more familiar – the whirlwinds in our lives; in your life.
Sometimes someone will use the word “whirlwind” to describe something overwhelmingly delightful – like a whirlwind romance; something that sweeps one off one’s feet. But more often, the word “whirlwind” is used to describe something that is just plain overwhelming; something overwhelming, but without a sense of holiness to it. It is the series of happenings that got you all turned around; disoriented. It is the spinning sensation, the continuous dizziness that catches you up when things are moving too fast. It is the tornado that drops from the sky on precisely the one spot that moments ago seemed sturdy and solid. It is the whipping wind that came up more quickly than you imagined it could. It is the force of nature that pulls trees out of the ground by their roots, and then in an emotional sense, pulls our hearts out of our chests as well, when a tragedy suddenly blows through at a hundred miles per hour. It is a diagnosis followed by such an immediate and overwhelming course of treatment, that for a while anyway, you can’t even figure out what day it is today.
Often then, such a whirlwind – the kind we know most often – demands not just a reaction, but some kind of decision. Should we make a move or not? Should I follow this course of treatment or that course? Should I take this job or wait for something else to come along? Commit to this school or that? A whirlwind, even off on the horizon, still a few miles away, pressures you: Make a decision now, before everything starts blowing in all different directions. Make a decision while you still have your feet on the ground; while you still have some control. Because once you’re in the wind, there’s no holding on; there’s no deciding which way to go. The wind will lift you off your feet.
There is an element of that in the story of Elijah and Elisha too. The whirlwind is waiting there on the horizon, but it won’t wait long. The sky has turned that strange dark-bright color it turns when something very unsettling is about to happen with the weather. The two men are walking together. They know time is of the essence. They know that Elijah’s time is almost up.
Elijah declares himself ready then to walk off on his own; to meet his end. “Stay here,” he says to Elisha, his young protégé, “You don’t need to go any further with me.” But Elisha won’t let him go. He sticks by him. “As the Lord lives,” he says, “and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” The clouds thicken on the horizon. Everyone sees the storm front coming.
The two men leave the company of the other prophets, to cross the Jordan themselves. Elijah rolls back the water by striking it with his mantle, his robe. It is an echo of the Exodus miracle of the parting of the Red Sea when Moses stretches his hand over the waters, so the people can pass through. Only in this case, it is not the whole company of people; only Elijah and Elisha cross over. And then, moments before the storm is upon them, moments before the chariots and horses are “comin’ for to carry him home,” moments before the whirlwind, Elijah asks Elisha, “What do you want?”
It is a perfect and surprising question: What do you want? If I was writing the script for what to say at the edge of the storm, I can think of half a dozen other questions or comments, instructions, parting words, that would come to mind before this one – words like, Now don’t worry, everything will be okay, or Step back now, or Remember everything I’ve taught you, or It’s time to say good bye. But instead, Elijah says, Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you. In other words, What do you want?
Elisha responds that he wants a double share of Elijah’s spirit. He doesn’t ask to be “just like him.” He asks for a double share. It’s a bold request. But it makes sense too. If he’s going to be without his mentor; if he’s going to have to take up this mantle, Elijah’s mantle, and all that is represents, and go on for both of them, then he’s going to need something extra. Moving one foot in front of the other after this is going to be difficult, so he’s going to need something extra.
And what exactly is a double share of Elijah’s spirit? Well, it’s a double measure of courage for one thing. It’s nerve-bending courage, and trustworthiness, and speaking truth to power, and angelic visitations, and consistent and calm presence, whether in moments of drought or miracles of resurrection…and now at the edge of a whirlwind. It’s eye-opening, roller coaster riding encounters with, and service on behalf of, the living God. That’s what Elisha is asking for; a double portion of that kind of spirit.
He’s got some nerve, doesn’t he? Asking for the whole deal, and a double portion. Is he greedy? Or is he just bold? Is he foolhardy or is he visionary?
I think about the whirlwinds I have known and about the storms yet to come there on the horizon; about the inevitable future, which always, at the end of every chapter, seems to find us turning the page from life to death to life, and I think maybe Elisha is right. When the storm is coming; when you see the chariots coming, when the wind starts blowing, better than just hanging on or hunkering down, you have to say what you need. You have to open your eyes to what is about to change, come to terms with the fact that everything is about to change, and you have to ask for what you need.
The transfiguration story from the gospel text holds that echo as well. Again, there’s Elijah, along with Moses and a transfigured Jesus, but no whirlwind in this case; instead a dazzling light, and then an overshadowing cloud cover– but once again there is that sense of the persons bearing witness to these things being overwhelmed; that sense of nature-force, and the divine presence blowing in from the near horizon. Blowing in, shining in, engulfing, overshadowing…and wiping every “normal” thing away. Peter, as ridiculous as he sometimes seems, sounds a bit Elisha-like there on the mountain, at least at first, as (instead of ducking his head and running for cover) he offers to make a booth for each of the three figures. He’s terrified, yes, but it doesn’t cut into his boldness, at least for a split second there. Is he the Elisha to Jesus’ Elijah? Let me inherit a double share of your spirit.
All through the season that we have been traveling last month and this month, this mid-winter season of Epiphany that follows on the heels of Christmas and carries us along toward the day-lengthening season of Lent, we’ve been looking for the light; looking for revelation; looking for a spark of awareness to light up the darkness that settles all around us – the winter darkness. How fitting then, that a season of seeking revelation, comes to a close, comes to a climax, with stories of fires and whirlwinds, dazzling figures and spreading clouds. So that once again, we are invited to wake up, to click on the light, to look, to think, to wonder, to imagine.
And what better way to do that, than to be asked, “What do you want?” Tell me what I may do for you before I am taken from you, says Elijah to Elisha; to us. What do you want?
Indeed, what do you want? A double portion of what? Before this time of Epiphany comes to its close, what do you want to see? What do you want to know? What do you want to come into your being? What do you want to inhabit your awareness; to stoke the fires of your soul? How do you want to be changed? What whirlwind do you welcome?
Not that it is easy to know such things. Winds can be stiff and clouds can be thick. One person, commenting on the transfiguration story from Mark’s gospel, notes that the disciples are often caught in their own cloud of “generalized confusion.” He writes, “As a former colleague of mine once noted, in Mark's Gospel anytime the disciples are afraid, you could just as easily translate it as “confused.” In other words, the Greek word for "terrified" is "duh.””(Mike Graves, from dayone.com) And so it is sometimes with us – terrified is the same as confused. The whirlwind, the thick bank of clouds; it may catch us, overtake us before we figure things out, before we decide what it is we need; before we have located our own feet clearly enough that we know what motion will be required in order to take one step, and then another, and then another…until we are finally moving in a forward (rather than round and round) direction again.
And you? Round and round, or forward? Caught in chaos, or coming toward clarity? Hunkered down or leaning into the wind?
When Elijah asked Elisha what he could do for him; what he wanted, and Elisha asked for the double portion of his spirit, Elijah had this response: “You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted to you; if not, it will not.” What does that mean? I take it to mean that Elijah is telling Elisha not to look away; to keep his eye on the ball; to stay focused; to attend.
And that’s part of the secret as well – the secret of getting to where we need to go; of gaining what we need to gain: staying with whatever it is that is right in front of us. “What do you need?” asks Elijah. “A double portion of your spirit,” replies Elisha, “a double measure of your courage for one thing; your nerve-bending courage, and your trustworthiness, and the way you speak truth to power, and your angelic visitations, and your consistent and calm presence whether in moments of drought and or miracles of resurrection…and even now, as the whirlwind approaches.” “Very well,” Elijah responds, “then stay with me, stay with me, until I am a speck in the sky. Look at me in the holy images of fire. Look at me in the the God-present wind. Stay with me.” And Elisha does. And by that, he is enabled…for everything that will follow.
I think we have to look right into the wind. But maybe more important than that, look right into the eyes of the one who is speaking to us, even as the wind starts whipping. Look at the life that is right before us, and within us, even as the clouds roll in. Look at this moment, and live in this moment, and say what is that we need. A double portion of Elijah’s spirit? Then keep your eyes on Elijah until he is a speck in the sky. A double portion of Christ’s presence? Then keep your eye on him, even when he dazzles so brightly that you can hardly look; even when he seems so ordinary, that you can hardly imagine his divinity. Keep looking. And the whirlwind? Let it alert you to the changes that are coming; but stay with your focus on the need you have right now; on whatever is right in front of you. And maybe then, you will see – truth, vision, possibility, chariots of fire, figures of prophets, even the presence of God. Amen.
Benediction:
The wind is going to whip around you.
Find your feet on the ground.
Keep your eye on Christ.
Hold your hope secure in your heart.
Go now in peace.
Amen.
Kurt Borgmann
Manchester Church of the Brethren
February 19, 2012
