Passing on the Mantle

We go through transitions throughout our lives.  We are born - that's one of the big ones.  We start school.  We become adolescents, then face the challenges of living on our own as adults.  We marry and become parents.  We watch our children grow and leave home.  We grow older ourselves, and retire.  We struggle to maintain a sense of meaning in our lives as our bodies age and we are able to do less.  Finally, we face the ultimate transition and die.  Each one of these transitions has its own unique challenges and its unique blessings, but there are also some things they have in common.  In the book we are using for bible study,  A Very Present Help, author Miriam Dunson talks about doing a year of internship as a chaplain in a retirement community, followed by a year as a chaplain at Agnes Scott College.  Imagine her surprise, she says, to discover that these two groups of people at very different stages of their lives were asking similar questions and facing similar challenges - identity, family relationships, low self esteem - because of the transitions  they were going through.  "Who am I now, in my present circumstance?"  both young adults and older adults were asking.

Individuals go through transitions, but so do institutions like corporations or colleges or even, dare I say, churches.  These institutions face similar challenges that individuals do.  In the last couple of weeks, our church has gone through a small transition, as new leadership comes into place and we say thanks to former leaders and prepare to move ahead with new ones.  If you look back over the last few years, I think you can see a much larger change in who is here and who is not, and what that means as we move into the future God is leading us toward.  What do these changes mean for us?  Where is God in the midst of this?

Our Old Testament lesson today is a story of transition, both the transition of an individual and of an institution.  It is a story about a change of leadership among the prophets of Israel, and about a younger  man who says goodbye to an older mentor and takes on a new role.  When we last left Elijah, he was heading down from the mountain where he had heard the voice of God.  That voice had promised Elijah three things, one of which was that he should go anoint Elisha as his successor.  Our story picks up several years later, after Elisha had been serving and learning from Elijah for quite some time.  There is little suspense for us, the listener.  The narrator tells us in the very beginning what is going to happen - that God is about to take Elijah to heaven on a whirlwind.  Everyone in the story knows this - Elijah, Elisha, and the Greek chorus of prophets who are witnesses to these events. The question is what happens next.  Will the transition be complete?  Will Elisha inherit the Elijah's prophetic power?  Will God's voice continue to be heard?     Until he and those watching him have gone through the whole process of transition, the answer is not clear. 

So much of what we face leads us into an unknown future.  "Will the cancer treatment work?  Will this job be right for me?  Will I be able to finish school?"  We can't know the outcome before we start.  We have to go through the transition, through the change before we know.  As we begin, all we have is hope and trust in the One who has gotten us here so far. 

 Elijah leads Elisha off on a journey.  They go from Gilgal to Bethel to Jericho.  If you look at a map, this makes no sense at all.  Gilgal and Jericho are right next to each other.  You don't have to go through Bethel, which is at some distance, to get there.  This is a journey which has little to do with geography.  It is an outward reflection of the inner journey taking place. 

All along the way, Elijah tries to leave Elisha behind, but Elisha won't let go.  "As the Lord lives, and you yourself live, I will not leave you," he says, not once but three times as he follows him on this circuitous journey.  It's so hard to let go of the past, to say goodbye to those we care about.  But for Elisha, that's not all.  He wants something from his master.  He needs an affirmation of his call, an assurance that God will be with him as God has been with Elijah.  He wants something Elijah may not be able to give.

As they get to the end of the road, the prophets come to the Jordan River one last time.  This is the river which is the boundary of the promised land, the river Joshua led his people across on dry ground.  And here, Elijah performs one last act of power, rolling up his cloak and striking the water with it.  As it did for Joshua and the leaders of Israel, the waters roll aside.  This is the last step of their journey together.  Elijah asks Elisha what he can give him, and Elisha asks for an oldest son's portion - a double portion - of the prophet's power.  But the Holy Spirit cannot be commanded.  It is a gift only God can give.  So Elijah can't pass on his power, just give Elisha a sign.  "If you see me as I go, you will have it."

Then the moment of change, the great transition, as Elijah, greatest of the prophets is swept away by a mighty whirlwind, preceded by a chariot of fire.  Elisha is left alone.

He sees Elijah go.  He knows the power is his.  His first act is an act of grief.  He tears his clothes in pieces.  Elijah is gone, and the grief is great.  But then, Elisha picks up Elijah's mantle and puts it on his shoulders and goes on.

Carrie Mitchell tells the story of the composer Puccini, who wrote many great operas.  In 1922, he suddenly was struck down by cancer while working on his last opera, "Turandot".  He said to his students, "If I don't finish it, I want you to finish it for me."  Shortly afterward, he died.  His students carried out his final wish, and in 1926, Turandot was performed for the first time in Milan, with Puccini's student Arturo Toscanini directing.  Everything went beautifully until the performance reached the place where the master had laid down his pen.  Toscanini stopped the music.  He turned to the great opera house and cried, with tears streaming down his face, "This far the Master wrote, but he died."  There was silence.  Then the conductor smiled through his tears. "But his disciples finished his work."  The opera was completed, to great applause.

When he saw Elijah be taken up, Elisha knew he had received his master's power.  As he put on the mantle, his personal transition had taken place.  He was the prophet now.  But no one else knew that.  The other prophets had not seen.  Elisha had to demonstrate that he could, indeed, finish his master's work. Elisha did it differently than Elijah did, but he still did the work of the prophet of God.  His first act as prophet was the same as Elijah's last - he parted the waters of the Jordan.  Then the others knew the transition was complete.  "The spirit of Elijah rests on Elisha."

Think back on transitions you have made in your life.  How did you know the change was complete?  How did others know? When did you know you had become an adult?  When did you realize you had finally settled in to the new home?  How did you know this was the right career for you?  How did it feel on the inside?  How did it show on the outside?

Each time we make a transition, there are steps we go through.  There are changes we and others can see, external changes.  There are transitions we can only feel, internal changes.  We have to leave the place we once were, as Elijah and Elisha did.  Sometimes we have to say goodbye to people we love.  We have to leave the past behind.  Then there's an in-between place.  When we're there, we decide what to take with us into the new.  What of the past do we hold on to?  What will be useful in the future.  Do we pick up that mantle and take it with us?  Finally, we move ahead, claiming what is ours, the new life, the new role.

The church as a whole is going through a transition right now.   We have had mighty leaders and a powerful witness in the past, but those leaders are gone now or have moved into the wings.  We are the ones who are left.  We stand, like Elisha, on the bank of the Jordan.  Shall we stay here and grieve for what was lost?  Or shall we pick up the mantle of our ancestors in faith and throw it over our shoulders, claiming God's power, led by God's spirit, and move boldly into God's work which is still unfinished?  For while there is injustice and hurt, hunger and war and God's name is still unknown, there is much for us to do.  Come, let us pick up the mantle and carry on.