August 16, 2020: The Broom Tree Between
1 Kings 19:1-8
Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins
Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life, and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there. But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” He got up, and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God.
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I’ve got to confess—I’m really tired this morning. I didn’t get much sleep. Insomnia. Anyone else have insomnia? What idiot called it “insomnia” and not “resisting a rest?” I really think that tossing and turning all night should be considered exercise, don’t you? I got in some serious reps in last night.
Pastors aren’t the only ones who have insomnia, you know. Nuns can have it too. What do you call a sleepwalking nun? A roamin’ Catholic! All jokes aside, I don’t really have insomnia. Sleeping comes naturally to me—I could do it with my eyes closed.
Ok, I’ll stop.
Today in our scripture lesson, we encounter someone who is tired. Exhausted. Ready to give up. His name is Elijah.
Elijah, you say? The prophet who joined Moses and Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration? One of the strongest, most prominent characters we find in the entire Old Testament? Ready to die? To give up?
Yes. That’s the Elijah I’m talking about. You may remember the story of the people of Israel rejecting the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and turning to Baal worship. The wicked Queen Jezabel is having a grand time instituting Baal worship on a national scale and violently slaughtering the prophets of Yahweh. So one day, Elijah talks King Ahab into a contest between Yahweh and Baal on top of Mt. Carmel. King Ahab agrees. So the 450 prophets of Baal and Elijah, the lone prophet of Yahweh, set up two altars, with an animal sacrifice on each altar. Whichever deity brings fire down to burn the sacrifice will win the fealty of the people of Israel.
The 450 prophets of Baal go first. They prepare the sacrifice. And they pray. And they dance. And they cut themselves. And they bleed. Morning turns to noon, noon turns to to afternoon, afternoon turns into evening . . . and? Nothing. All of their praying and dancing and cutting and bleeding is for naught. Baal turns out to be a big disappointment.
Now it’s Elijah’s turn. He prepares the altar and the sacrifice to Yahweh. And just for good measure (and perhaps a little bit of showboating) Elijah pours twelve jars of water on the sacrifice, soaking it thoroughly. Elijah calls on the name of the Lord, and BAM! Fire from heaven. The people fall down and worship Yahweh. Elijah commands the people to seize the 450 false prophets of Baal and to slaughter them, and that’s exactly what they do. When wicked Queen Jezabel hears about her prophets being slaughtered, let’s just say she isn’t very happy. She wants Elijah’s head on a stick. So Elijah runs for his life. Into the wilderness he runs alone, until he can run no further.
Elijah is terrified. He’s exhausted. He wants to die. “Take away my life,” he prays. And then Elijah falls asleep underneath the shelter of a broom tree.
This image of Elijah weak, exhausted and broken, reminds me of a scene from the Lord of the Rings in the third of the three-part trilogy. In the first two movies of the trilogy, we learn that the fate of Middle Earth rests in the hands of a tiny but determined Hobbit, Frodo Baggins, and his faithful companion Sam. Frodo is the chosen one who carries the One Ring—its evil powers would overtake a lesser being. The epic journey to destroy the ring in the fires of Mount Doom leave Sam and Frodo weak, hungry, exhausted, at the brink of death. The power of the ring threatens to claim Frodo, now lying in a pile of rock and sulfur steam. His faithful companion, Sam, holding him tenderly, tries to rouse him with memories of the Shire, the taste of strawberries and cream. Frodo can see nothing of it—he can only see the seductive power of the ring.
Elijah lying under a broom tree. Frodo lying on a mountain of sulfur rock.
And then there’s us. Where do we find ourselves in comparison?
Well, maybe we’re not lying in a pile of sulfur rock, any maybe there’s not a wicked Queen with a bounty for our heads, but we’re tired. Generally speaking, we’re exhausted. “Weary” is a word I keep hearing a lot these days.
People are calling it “COVID fatigue.” This week the governor of Texas said people are tired of wearing masks and being cooped up at home. “We get that,” he said, “but the [virus] doesn’t care about COVID fatigue.”[1]
If it makes you feel better, this disillusionment phase is right on target according to research on stages of stress after disaster strikes. At first, communities pull together. There’s an adrenaline rush. Remember back in March when we couldn’t get enough information? We hung on the epidemiologists’ every word? Research shows that after disaster, optimism often gives way to negativity, even anger. We may become complacent, or careless. Some people might mount an angry resistance. The stress becomes chronic.
Just this week the CDC issued a report suggesting 41% of Americans are dealing with mental health issues related to COVID-19 and the measures taken to prevent its spread. About a third of respondents in the survey were dealing with depression or anxiety. 13% had increased substance abuse. 26% were experiencing trauma or stress-related symptoms. “The prevalence of symptoms of anxiety was approximately three times those reported during the same time period last year.”[2]
So there’s Elijah, praying for death and hunted by a crazed Queen in a barren desert land. Elijah is all alone. Or is he? Some . . . angel . . . finds our hero asleep under the broom tree and wakes him from his slumber, urging him to eat and drink. Freshly baked bread. Cool water for his tongue. More sleep. A second time the angel comes—freshly baked bread and cool water for his tongue. The scripture tells us Elijah, “went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God.”
So there’s Frodo, on the brink of death and crazed from the power of the Ring on a pile of burning rock on the way to Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. Faithful Sam holding him tenderly, weak and hungry himself. Sam realizes Frodo is too weak to continue the journey. The subtle music playing in the background changes from a minor key to something more optimistic and determined. Sam summons every ounce of energy he can muster and cries out, “Come on, Mr. Frodo. I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!” Sam hoists his friend over his shoulder and step by painful step climbs the burning pile of rock toward their destiny.
And everybody watching the film longs to have a friend like Sam. Perhaps the greater lesson is that we should strive to be more like Sam.
Here’s my point today. Sometimes we are weak and in need of care. Even if you think of yourself a macho man, you don’t need “nothin’ or nobody”—yeah, you were a baby at one time. You needed someone to feed you, someone to change you, someone to hold you.
At other times, we’re strong, or at least stronger than others. Sam felt weak and hungry himself, but he was stronger than Frodo. Those who are strong must carry those who are weak. It’s the only way community works. We all take our turn being weak. We all take our turn being strong. It’s part of being human.
This week I spoke to Barb Jones, many of you know Barb—she’s a bit of a legend here at the Chapel. Barb’s the octogenarian that often sets the pace for the walking club that meets here when the heat index isn’t 100 degrees. It’s the same Barb we’re praying for as doctors determine the best course of action in treating her lung cancer. I spoke to Barb this week—like many of you she hasn’t been to church since early March and she misses it, she misses you, terribly. And then this diagnosis. She recalled a time just a few years ago when her beloved husband, Tom, who I understand had a beautiful voice and sang in our choir, Tom was sick. He couldn’t sing in the choir anymore, but Tom and Barb would still come to church. Sometimes he would be too weak to stand. Tom and Andi Whipple sat behind them, and Tom Whipple would reach over and help Tom Jones stand. And when Tom Jones passed, the Whipples told Barb, “You’re sitting with us.” And so she did. And if you happen to sit in their pew on a normal Sunday, they’re the “holy swayers,” holding on to each other, rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the benediction hymn.
Now, Tom Whipple has had a heckuva year himself. Spent some time in the hospital. Couldn’t come to church for a while. But Tom is feeling better now, and he and Andi have been coming back to church. They were here last Sunday, in their same pew. And when Barb Jones watched the worship service on YouTube, she spotted Tom and Andi in “their” pew. Barb told me how much it lifted her spirits to see them there. I bet Tom and Andi had no idea how their simple presence ministered to their dear friend at home. Like a broom tree, in the right place at the right time, their presence offered a bit of cool shade for their friend worshipping at home.
Sometimes we’re weak. Sometimes we’re strong. When we’re weak, we must take shelter under the broom tree, and allow the angels to tend to us. When we’re strong, we’ve got to show up, and carry each other on the journey.
Where are you today?
Are you feeling strong? Then show up. Be Sam for Frodo. Be the angel for Elijah. Be the Whipples for Barbara.
Are you feeling weak? Let others carry you, feed you, tend your weary soul. Open your eyes to angels all around, in the faces of familiar friends, medical professionals, strangers who offer a warm smile or a helping hand.
I close with a poem about the broom tree between Mt. Carmel and Mt. Horeb—the tree where Elijah took shelter at a low point on his journey:
come, sit in my shade
“come, sit in my shade,” said the broom tree
weary was I—
from the battle
from the loneliness
from the threats
from the fear
from the journey
“come, rest in my shade,” said the broom tree
hungry was I—
for safety
for strength
for respect
for companionship
for peace
“come, shelter in my shade,” said the broom tree
needy was I—
for rest
for healing
for nurture
for tenderness
for love
little did I know that God was there
little could I see the bounty set before me
little could I imagine the healing I would find
underneath the broom tree
and in the shade
and in the rest
and in the shelter
strength
hope
love
and now
I have become the broom tree
for another weary, hungry, needy soul
[1] https://www.click2houston.com/news/texas/2020/08/13/live-abbott-to-discuss-states-coronavirus-response/
[2] https://www.usnews.com/news/health-news/articles/2020-08-13/coronavirus-pandemic-causing-anxiety-depression-in-americans-cdc-finds