I preached today in my home congregation at Mt. Olive in Minneapolis. I used the alternative reading from 1 Kings 19.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, + and the Holy Spirit.
By
night, the wilderness of Beersheba at the northern entrance to the Negev
Desert, is quiet. There is not a
soul to stir the peace. Darkness
hides the shadows that creep during the day. The moon, if it has waxed to its fullest, burns through the
clouds and lights the white sand making the journey visible.
Negev
comes from the Semitic word for dry. Parched is more like it. The ground is
busted open by cracks as the earth turns itself inside out searching for water.
It is cold & hard; all of the daytime heat has escaped & now, thin dew
begins to cover the ground & the rocks & the bushes. But the sun will burn that away. But
now, a damp chill permeates so that, mixed with the sweat from the heat of the
day, clothing will cling & stick & stink.
Though
there is no noise, sound is still heard—the breath as it enters and then leaves
the body; the scrape of the sandal against sand and rock; the paranoia that
though there is no one for miles and days, someone is following behind,
threatening life.
Anxiety
creeps in and the mind turns events over and over again until it wears itself
out and fatigues the whole body. Short gasps of regret pass through pursed lips
and Elijah begins to wonder, "what just happened?"
As
the sun rises, Elijah knows that he cannot escape the heat of the sun or the
despair of his heart. We encounter Elijah, the great prophet, a man of God,
depressed and in deep despair.
A
slight caveat. I am not a clinician. I am not a licensed doctor who can
speak with authority or proper fluency about depression. If you are
experiencing depression, seek help, talk to somebody, and please, do not feel
ashamed. Now, I cannot offer an
expert's opinion or prognosis. What
I can do and what I want to do here is to explore the biblical witness of the
soul in depression.
Back
to Elijah. Elijah has left the heights of Mt. Carmel and the heights of his
success and enters the valley of the Negev Desert and the throes of depression.
The landscape of the Negev is more than a description of the wilderness, it is
a metaphor for the soul in depression.
At
the very point of his ascent into greatness; at the very point when he finally
proved the existence and power of his God to the shame of all the rest; at that
very point, something takes him out at the legs so that he can no longer stand. Something knocks the breath out of him. Something replaces the bold and brazen
bravado and replaces it with anxiety, fear and despair.
We encounter in today's text the prophet
Elijah, a man of God who, because of circumstances, enters into depression and
even plots to end his life. What
is the event that breaks open his heart and fears and pushes him to this
point, this point of fleeing to the desert where no people can live or sustain
themselves, where danger and death lurk around every corner? What is it that drives Elijah to leave
himself alone and under a tree, exposed to the elements and the harshness of
nature and asks that God would take his life?
Very
succinctly, Elijah threatened the hubris of the empire and is sent a messenger
who threatens to do to Elijah what he had done to its false prophets,
vis-à-vis, take his life and kill him by the sword.
And
there was no word from God to provide life and protection. All of his gusto, all of his faith, all
of his courage drained through his toes and froze his life to the ground. Abandoned. No response. No word. The prophet is left alone. Caught in the crosshairs, unsure
of what to do, Elijah has to decide. Fight or flight?
Elijah flees for his life,
the Hebrew is one of those charged words: nephesh,
meaning his soul, his body, his being, his person, his desire, passion,
appetite and emotion. It is more than just the physical, but also the
psychical, relating to mind and soul.
Elijah flees for his life and he encounters all of his nephesh, his whole being, in a new and
profound way: through depression.
Into the wilderness, into
the uninhabited places where people do not live or go, Elijah is tired, sad, he
won’t eat or drink and he has thoughts of death. "I am no better than my ancestors," Elijah says,
"God, it is enough, take my life." He seems to be content to die alone with no sign from God. He lived and moved and had his being in
God’s presence and now he was going to sleep and die in God’s absence. Cold, alone, vulnerable and
threatened.
Jezebel sent a messenger of death, God sends a messenger of life:
“Get up and eat,” says the angel—or as the Hebrew points out, a messenger—not
once but twice, “get up and eat or else the journey will be too much for you.”
The text tells us only that he ate and drank and with the strength given
to him from that meal he got up and went for a forty-day journey to Horeb, the
Mountain of God. He was neither
sent to nor driven to Horeb, he chose to go there. Now, Horeb is known by another name: Sinai, the place where
Moses encountered God and lived; the place where Moses was re-equipped and
re-energized and re-motivated to do what was necessary in and for Israel.
Perhaps Elijah was seeking out the same thing. It is clear that he is desperately grasping and seeking
something, anything that resembled the tangible God that had accompanied him
throughout his journey. The text
wants to suggest that Elijah is retracing Moses’ steps backwards from freedom
into the slavery of Sinai; from life into death. Regardless of his intentions, finally the word of the Lord
came to him: “Elijah,” it said,
“what are you doing here?”
God knows what we too know: that Elijah was not called to come to Horeb;
it was his decision, his plan, his chosen journey.
But Elijah’s mind and heart and life—his nephesh—is far from his vocation and obligation. He cannot see farther than himself and
offers a complaint:
“I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for
the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed
your prophets with the sword. I
alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.”
God knows
something is wrong with Elijah and though God openly asks Elijah what he is
doing so far from where he is supposed to be, God does not leave Elijah on his
own or reject Elijah in his depression.
The voice tells Elijah, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the
Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”
God is about to draw near to Elijah.
First there was a great wind so strong that it was
splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces.
àBut
God was not in the wind.
àAfter the wind there was an earthquake.
àBut God was not in the earthquake.
àAnd after the earthquake there was a fire.
àBut God was not in the fire.
Now, these were ways that people expected God to show up: thunder and
lightning, fire and darkness; whirlwind and storm; earthquakes and
downpours. Note well: these are
signs not of God’s wrath but of God’s presence.
But after all of these signs in which God was not, there was the sound of
a quiet whimper. And Elijah knew
that God—had—just—shown—up. Elijah
leaves his cave and wraps his mantle, his cloak, around his face for one cannot
see God face-to-face and live.
God comes in a quiet whimper; a still, small voice. God comes weakly and with neither pomp
nor circumstance. Finally, Elijah
is empty enough to hear God, and feel God not in loud signs or visible crashes,
but in a new way—a way not previously opened up to him. The soul in depression encounters God
in a way that was not previously available.
Before, God spoke to Elijah through clear words and messy signs. But now, God would speak to Elijah in a
new way. Elijah would have a new understanding of himself and the way in which
God is at work in and through him.
Maybe he couldn’t see it at the time. Maybe it took him the rest of his life to see it. Maybe he never realized it, but God did
not shy away in Elijah’s doubt, despair and depression, but came even closer
and Elijah came to know himself more fully through his experience.
After this encounter, God asks once more: “Elijah, what are you doing
here?”
As we see and hear, Elijah’s complaint doesn't change. Elijah isn’t changed or saved through
spiritual encounter. Hope is not
in Elijah’s vocabulary. While his
journey through depression is marked with God’s presence and activity, it is
not the quick fix that our culture and society might hope it to be. God knows what we often learn through
experience: that depression and anxiety are not cured by spiritual songs or
simple fixes but through our own journey, wherever that might lead us.
God knows what some find out: the opposite of depression is not
happiness but human vitality (Andrew Solomon The Noonday Demon via Speaking of Faith "The Soul in Depression"). The biblical witness shows us there is vitality
on the other side of depression, life out from death—on this side of
eternity.
For Elijah, life takes on a new shape and direction. He is set out
on the same road he came in on, but he is given a new task, new skills and new
people in his life to help him along the way. His life will take a new
meaning. He is not left to wallow
in despair. And at the end of it all, when Elijah’s journey had run its course,
God took the prophet back into God’s self. Elijah is never cut off from the
love and care of God.
The biblical witness knows that no one is protected from the veil of
depression. It comes to men and
women of God alike. To those who
reside in the landscape of depression know this, whether you see it or feel it
or not, God has not left you. God
is not ashamed of you. God is
showing God’s self to you in a different way. God is showing you to yourself in a different way. All is not lost. Yours is a journey worth taking.