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1 Kings 19

11 The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

14 He replied, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”

It seems accurate to say that your legacy is a matter of perspective and circumstance.

Take, for example, Mary I of England, known to history as “Bloody Mary.”  Her premature death meant the failure of her project of returning England to the Roman Catholic faith.  Had she succeeded, history would view her very differently, and we might be in the middle of Mass right now.  

Yet even with her tarnished legacy, and a reputation that approaches the stereotype of an “evil queen,” recent scholars have taken a second look and decided that her legacy is less one-sided.  Many in the realm welcomed a return to the old faith, and many of the things that her sister gets credit for—naval supremacy, the beginning of the age of exploration—actually started under Mary.

If you want someone closer to the evil queen trope, look no further than Eadburh, queen of Wessex.  Annoyed with her husband’s advisor, she poisoned him, and inadvertently killed her husband (the king) as well.  She fled to Francia, and ended up in an awkward love triangle with Charlemange and his son.  Banished from court, she was appointed the abbess of a convent, a position she soon lost after a tryst with an overnight guest.  If you were wondering why so few little girls are named Eadburh, then wonder no more.

And then, of course, there is Jezebel.  Ignoring the way Jezebel has been reinterpreted in recent years, we need to look again at the book of 1 Kings to see Jezebel in her original setting.  Like many “foreign” queens, she brought her religion with her to Israel, meaning that she was always going to be controversial.  But rather than quietly worship Baal in her well-appointed chapel, she exploited her husband’s weakness to promote Baal throughout the land.  

Enter Elijah the prophet.  First, he warns the king that years of drought will follow if the worship of Baal does not stop.  (In addition to being a garden-variety punishment for disobedience, drought is also a direct attack on Baal, since he was supposed to be the god of rain).  Exiled the first time, Elijah waits three years before he is commanded to confront the priests of Baal directly.  Read 1 Kings 18 for the best duel in history.  It’s Jezebel and the priests of Baal zero, Elijah (and YHWH) one.  

So Elijah must flee once more—and we reach today’s reading—but the real conclusion of the Jezebel story comes in the next episode.  Ahab, the weak king, is unable to convince one of his subjects to sell him a vineyard.  Annoyed, Jezebel arranges to have the vineyard owner killed through an abuse of the courts, and she seizes the vineyard.  For the God of justice this is a step too far, and Jezebel’s inevitable fate is sealed.  Again, if you were wondering why so few little girls are named Jezebel, then wonder no more.

Back to our reading, Elijah’s second exile is worse than the first.  This time he’s hiding in a cave, feeling sorry for himself, and generally resigning himself to defeat at the hands of Jezebel and Ahab.  God is having none of it.  The word of the Lord came to Elijah and said “what are you doing in there?”  He could have just admitted that he was hiding, but instead he tries to explain himself: “everyone,” he said, “is dead.  The covenant is gone, along with the places of worship.  I’m the only prophet left, even though I have been zealous for the LORD.”  

At this point the LORD was growing tired of all the gloom, and told Elijah to wait at the mouth of the cave for the LORD to pass by.  Here’s what happened next:

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.  Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

The same question, then the same response.  Still, God is having none of it.  “Go back to the seats of power,” the LORD said, “and you will have occasion to make some political changes.”  And then the most important message at all: “You imagine that you are the last of a breed, but this is far from the truth.  There are seven thousand others in Israel—all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and whose mouths have not kissed him.”

When we’re surrounded by trouble, the first and obvious question is ‘where is God in all this?’  Weak kings and evil queens, the worship of foreign gods, the murder of prophets, abuse of process and the state-sanctioned killing of innocent people—where is God while all this is happening?  We want God to move heaven and earth to defeat the unjust, to overcome those who would rule with such inequity, but direct intervention doesn’t follow.  A great and powerful wind levelled mountains before the Lord, but the Lord is not in the wind.  After the wind, the earth trembled and quaked, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  After the earthquake there was fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  But after the fire came a still small voice.  

So we pull our cloaks over our heads, and we edge farther out of our hiding places, our eyes adjust to the light of this moment, and we train our ears and truly listen as the heavenly voice speaks: ‘You suppose you are alone, but you are not.  You suppose that you are the last to seek justice, but you are not.  You suppose you are the last to hate abuse, the last who decry the way the powerful oppress the weak—but you are not.  The Lord of all can see into the hearts of the people, and understands that many have not bowed down to useless gods of this age.  

Perhaps they are quiet now, and perhaps they remain in their caves of fear and reluctance, but they too are ready to listen for the still small voice of the Most High.  Elijah felt alone, but 7,000 others meant he was not alone.  

The bluster of those who worship the false-god of strength (and power at any cost) can be overwhelming.  The noise of those who lack compassion or promote discord can be overwhelming.  The intensity of daily outrage and 20,000 lies can be overwhelming.  But we do not lose heart.

For God is not in the strength of the wind, nor is God in the noise of the earthquake, nor is God in the intensity of the fire.  No, God is in the still small voice that says “we are not alone.”  Thanks be to God.  Amen.