Power Play
Commentary
Raw power is stunning, but rarely is it warm and personal in the way we think of strength. Power explodes, while strength is channeled energy. Power unleashes force, but strength controls ability in very specific ways.
Someone has even defined the gentle concept of meekness as “strength under control.”
An atomic bomb is horrifyingly overwhelming, but the steady nuclear output of the sun is simply amazing. A wild horse can be a terrifying beast; the grace and gentleness of a trained stallion channels all that energy into a magnificent steeplechase run. A powerful person intimidates, but a strong person may tumble in play with children.
And that’s the measure of power in today’s Lectionary Readings. Elijah declares the strength God commands and the power God displays, even when he is himself feeling powerless in the aftermath of the Mount Carmel showdowns. It’s not brute force or raw energy. Rather, it is a sense of justice, a victory of controlled “right” over demonic “might” as Jesus portrays it, and the security of a personal empowerment for all who live in new confidence with God, despite their backgrounds or cultural levels of influence, according to Paul.
Alan Redpath tells of a prominent businessman in South Africa who was duly impressed with the luxury of Rolls Royce automobiles. He ordered one for himself and marveled at its speed and handling. He looked through the manual but found no test results listed indicating the horse- power of the engine. So, he went to the dealer.
“I’m sorry,” the dealer told him. “The company never states the horsepower of their engines.”
But the man was not to be put off, and he was too powerful a person to be ignored. Finally, in frustration, the dealer sent a cable to Derby, England, asking the head office for an answer in the matter. Within a short time, there was a reply. It was brief and to the point, a response of only a single word. How much horsepower does the Rolls Royce engine develop? “ADEQUATE.” That’s all. That’s enough.
And that is the celebration in today’s readings. How much strength does God have? Adequate. Adequate to meet my needs and see me through. Adequate to take care of whatever evil power might throw itself up against God or God’s people. Adequate to establish a king on a throne or suckle a child at its mother’s breast.
1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a
The grand kingdom of David and Solomon became divided and its theological mission compromised, yet the perspective of Kings is that the northern tribes (now “Israel”) and the southern portion (now “Judah”) were never truly separated. Throughout the rest of these narratives, the political fortunes of both territories were equally considered. Furthermore, the kings of both realms were similarly judged by the prophetic author as either following in the ways of David and Solomon (and so seeking to fulfill the destiny intended by Yahweh) or compounding the covenant breaking of those who caused the nation to stray from its divine calling and mission. This is most obvious in the harsh assessments given at the time of the northern kingdom’s destruction by the Assyrians (2 Kings 17).
While the rulers of the divided kingdom are mostly (in the north) and often (in the south) forgetting and going contrary to the ways and wishes of Israel’s true monarch, Yahweh, there comes a new development in the idea of who is in charge as God’s anointed and appointed. Note, as 1 and 2 Kings unfold, the emerging and changing role of the public “prophets.” Moses and Joshua each had a unique and ongoing relational interchange with Yahweh, which made their leadership positions virtually unassailable (cf. Numbers 12, 16–17). After the nation was settled in Canaan, such clear, regular and unequivocal communication with Yahweh appears to have been muted. During the times of Eli, we are told, “the word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions” (1 Samuel 3:1). That is why, when Yahweh began speaking directly with Samuel, the Israelites were ready to follow him (1 Samuel 3:19–21). This seems to be the beginning of a national recognition of the status of prophets as part of the necessary social fabric.
When Samuel’s leadership was challenged because the people wanted a king (1 Samuel 8), it caused the first subtle separation of church and state. Samuel was a priest by adoption and worked within the parameters of the cultic shrine. But the kings were clearly outside of the Levitical priesthood or its extended family. Prophets at first began to bridge the connection, and then later sparred with the kings as the sovereignty role of Yahweh was increasingly forgotten.
This tension is clearly seen in the dominant stories of Elijah and Elisha, who battled with the rulers of the northern kingdom in 1 Kings 17–2 Kings 8. Elijah was given the weapons of the curses of the Sinai covenant to bring Ahab and Jezebel to their knees (1 Kings 17:1). He wielded divine power in public displays of combat (1 Kings 18). He was authorized to determine and appoint the leaders of nations (1 Kings 19). And when Ahab and Jezebel presumed that they could displace God-fearing Israelites from their divinely determined inheritance in the land (1 Kings 21), Elijah confronted the pair with stern prophecies that they instead would be removed.
Throughout the rest of the Old Testament history of Israel, the prophets would take on a changing and growing role as the legitimate and authorized spokespersons for Yahweh and the Sinai covenant. Most of their speeches are not new revelations, but rather interpretations of the covenant stipulations for current situations. Ultimately the prophets became the interpreters of Israel’s history, and their writings were collected as a unique section of Hebrew scripture.
Galatians 3:23-29
Returning to Syrian Antioch after their first mission journey (Acts 13-14), Paul and Barnabas brought a report of all that had happened to their home congregation (Acts 14:26–28). That’s when the trouble started (Acts 15; Galatians 2). Reports of Gentile converts to Christianity sizzled toward Jerusalem. Peter came up to Antioch to celebrate this exciting mission work (Galatians 2:11), but others with less enthusiasm were soon sent by James (the brother of Jesus and leader of the Jerusalem congregation) to ensure that all was happening in an appropriate manner (Galatians 2:12). These representatives announced that Gentiles had to become Jews in belief and practice before they could become part of the Christian church. After all, Jesus was Jewish, and was being acclaimed as the Messiah foretold by Israel’s prophets.
These ambassadors of the Jerusalem church instituted separate meal and communion practices (Galatians 2:12-13), making it clear that only those who were ceremonially pure could take positions of leadership in the community. Much to Paul’s surprise, even Peter and Barnabas allied themselves with those advocating these discriminating practices. Paul, of course, was anything but timid, and accosted Peter publicly (Galatians 2:14), creating even stronger polarization among the congregations on these matters.
The disease of Jewish superiority spread to the churches of Paul and Barnabas’ recent mission journey and threatened to split the infant Christian community before it even had an opportunity to get started. In response, Paul dashed off a letter to the churches of “Galatia,” the Roman district through which they had traveled on their mission trek.
In the first part of this passionate letter (Galatians 1–2), Paul reviewed his personal journey to an understanding of freedom in Christ and lamented the recent developments that had seemingly stolen away this freedom from many of them. Next, (Galatians 3–4) Paul went into a lengthy Jewish rabbinic argument about how Abraham was counted as “righteous” in his relationship with God already, before he entered into the rituals of circumcision. Paul concluded that neither circumcision, nor any other ceremonial expression, was essentially necessary for a meaningful relationship with God, and that Jesus’ recent teachings, death, and resurrection only reaffirmed and expanded this truth. In fact, said Paul, the “Law” (that is, the ceremonial dimensions of the Sinai covenant) was like a teacher who was no longer needed after a child became fully mature. Using a rabbinic allegory, Paul pointed to Hagar and her son Ishmael as representations of Abraham’s “slave” side of the family, regulated by the social codes from Mt. Sinai. Sarah and her son Isaac, on the other hand, were symbols of Abraham’s “free” side of the family, and lived out of the delight that was expressed through ecstatic worship in Jerusalem. This is the point of our New Testament Lectionary Reading for today.
In the final portion of his letter (Galatians 5–6), Paul used very strong language to urge the expression of true freedom in Christ. This is found in neither the legalism of ritual religious regimens which bind and burden, nor in licentiousness which turns us evil and ugly. Rather, true Christian freedom is experienced when we no longer consider ourselves under external demands that have no important ends in themselves, but when we voluntarily give ourselves as slaves to God and others out of love. In this context, there can be no division between “Jewish Christians” and “Gentile Christians,” for the church of Jesus Christ has become the new “Israel of God” (Galatians 6:16).
Luke 8:26-39
Perhaps the most striking and clearly Lukan focus in conveying the message about Jesus, is his recognition that God has special care for the poor (noted in Mary’s song, identified in the offering brought by Joseph and Mary at Jesus’ circumcision, asserted through the record of Jesus’ pronouncements of woes on the rich and blessings on the poor, and insinuated in the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man), the sick (notably the number of demon-possessed who are healed by Jesus, and also the lepers who are cleansed and the paralyzed who are restored to mobility), the marginalized (shepherds, children, tax collectors, prostitutes, Samaritans, and the blind), and women (Mary, Elizabeth, widows, the hemorrhaging woman, Mary and Martha, and the crippled woman).
With regard to demon possession, which is the focus of our Gospel Lectionary Reading for today, while the New Testament largely echoes the Old Testament in its minimal theology of angels, there was a significant new development in “angelology” between the Testaments that affected many in the Jewish and early Christian communities regarding their perceptions about angels. After the Babylonian Exile of the Jews (586-517 B.C.), “angelology” expanded and diversified, and took on both mystical and apocalyptic qualities. Emerging speculations debated hierarchies, ranks and supposed key leaders among the angels. Books about spiritual battlegrounds and eternal conflicts became best sellers, and increasingly developed elaborate perceptions about spiritual battlefields where unseen angels barely staved off murderous attacks by demons. Even Jesus’ close friend Peter (2 Peter 2-3) and his younger brother Jude (Jude 8-16) found this fascinating, and saw this spiritual warfare interrupting and disturbing human history and the composure of the early church.
But most of the New Testament stories regarding demonic possession are found in the Gospels. It seems as if the incarnation of divinity in Jesus brought out a more powerful presence of dark spiritual presences as well. So, in passages like today’s reading, it is the demons who quickly identify the power of the divine presence. And it is equally true that the divine presence has power over the demons.
Spiritual warfare continues to be a deep religious engagement. A recent popular song calls on angels as warriors for the defense in complex inner struggles:
They say don't let them in
Close your eyes and clear your thoughts again
But when I'm all alone, they show up on their own
'Cause inner demons fight their battles with fire
Inner demons don't play by the rules
They say "Just push them down, just fight them harder
Why would you give up on it so soon?"
So angels, angels please just keep on fighting
Angels don't give up on me today
'Cause the demons they are there, they just keep biting
'Cause inner demons just won't go away
So angels please, hear my prayer
Life is pain, life's not fair
So angels please, please stay here
Take the pain, take the fear
They say it won't be hard, they can't see the battles in my heart
But when I turn away
The demons seem to stay
'Cause inner demons don't play well with angels
They cheat and lie and steal and break and bruise
Angels please protect me from these rebels
This is a battle I don't want to lose
So angels, angels please just keep on fighting
Angels don't give up on me today
'Cause the demons they are there, they just keep biting
'Cause inner demons just won't go away
So angels please, hear my prayer
Life is pain, life's not fair
So angels please, please stay here
Take the pain, take the fear
(Julia Brennan. Inner Demons lyrics © Songs Music Publishing, Tunecore Inc.)
Application
There is a scene in Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring where a partnership is forged among those who would accompany Frodo on his journey to destroy the ring of power. The movie version makes for a very gripping visual illustration, and the original literary text is equally as moving. What comes through is a sense of selflessness as the bond that unites these creatures. Furthermore, each subsumes his will to the greater cause, and trusts an unseen and transcendent good for an outcome that will bless all of Middle Earth, even if the trek itself causes the demise of any or all of the compatriots.
So it is in Jesus’ small glimpse of the mission of God. In a world turned cold to its creator, in an age riddled by Delphic oracles and temple prostitutes and emperors claiming divinity, in a little corner of geography where messianic hopes ran high, God called together a strange team to make its mark by playing a different game.
Walter Wangerin, Jr., in his great allegory, The Book of the Dun Cow (along with its wonderful sequel, The Book of Sorrows) captures both the scope of the divine mission as well as the under-rated character of the team. If the focus remains on the team apart from the mission, the point is lost. God is reclaiming God’s creation, but does so through human agency. The game is fierce and the playing field is rough. Only those who can tear up their personal score sheets in order get into God’s game will make the team. Only they are truly called. Only they are equipped to serve and follow and play on the greatest winning team of all time.
Jesus was on the road to the cross in our Gospel lesson, and he calls others to join him in that pilgrimage. The Cost of Discipleship, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer noted,is self-denial, and Jesus’ words are a strong call to that vocation, not as an end in itself or as a means to a self-help goal (like dieting), but rather as a counter-cultural missional testimony. Those who travel this road do not get to Easter without first enduring Good Friday; they do not presume a glorious outcome that gathers the media like paparazzi vultures, but sense that the journey of service brings light in darkness, hope in despair, healing for pain, and faith where power corrupts and destroys.
Have you entered the cause?
Alternative Application (1 Kings 19:1-35)
When the nation of Israel came out of Egypt and met God at Mount Sinai there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the Pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as prior to the Exodus the Pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai, God and Moses hammered out the political and social and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel’s future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause, “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage” (Exodus 20:1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the Covenant.
Yet even this God would need mediaries. God would require human spokespersons to translate his glory into Hebrew speech. The greatest of all the spokespersons, of course, was Moses. Moses stood above the common Israeli crowd, a half-god hero, a leader without peers.
Moses stood at the helm of Israel’s wandering ship for forty years, bringing her to the lights of Canaan’s harbor. Then Moses died, and the navigational sextant was placed in Joshua’s hands. Joshua helped Israel claim the new colonial territory on behalf of the Kingdom of Heaven. And when he died, the lines of authority passed into the care of the “elders” of the people (Joshua 24). These older, wiser men were eyewitnesses of many of the great legends that created the nation of Israel.
When they died, the legends grew, but the faith wilted. Israel was adrift at sea, lost in a storm of international intrigue and factional dissension. A few powerful “judges” managed to prevent the confederation from disintegrating all together, but it was obvious that stronger measures of leadership were necessary to bring the nation back to days of self-confidence, and a place of recognition among neighboring kingdoms.
The crisis of the book of Judges precipitated grassroots calls for a king. “Give us a king!” they told Samuel. “Give us a king!” they prayed to God, so long hidden. The outcome was the monarchy—established by Saul, consolidated by David, expanded by Solomon, ripped apart by Jeroboam, and eventually whimpering into oblivion at the hands of the Assyrian empire (722 BC) and the Babylonian scourge (586 BC).
During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, often surrounded by their cultic priests. These “outside-the-system” renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the Temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the Covenant. Elijah was one of the greatest among these. He lived up to his name, which meant “My God is Yahweh.”
Although Elijah was able to do many special and seemingly miraculous things, he is never portrayed as a wizard or some kind of superhuman figure. In fact, all of the miracles that happen when Elijah is around point only to God as the one who brings life and promotes healing. It is in this manner that James raises up Elijah as an example for us to follow when praying. Elijah wields no power; rather he understands what God is all about, what God’s goals for his world are, and where to find the imprint of his creative and restoring fingers.
Elijah understood the Covenant stipulations that when God’s people broke faith with God, he would withhold the needed rains until they finally came to their senses. Elijah was well-versed in the promises of God’s Covenant that God would make the world blossom for the good of God’s people when they trusted him. Elijah’s prayers were not secret codes that moved the tumblers of heaven’s resources vaults. Rather, his prayers were God’s own speech become audible again in an age that had forgotten how to listen.
We often want prayer to be our magic potion that will force God to do our bidding. No one can move the fingers of God until they have first absorbed God’s Covenant and God’s character and God’s vision, struggling like Elijah to understand the mind of God, and living in a way that has put God’s priorities first.
Someone has even defined the gentle concept of meekness as “strength under control.”
An atomic bomb is horrifyingly overwhelming, but the steady nuclear output of the sun is simply amazing. A wild horse can be a terrifying beast; the grace and gentleness of a trained stallion channels all that energy into a magnificent steeplechase run. A powerful person intimidates, but a strong person may tumble in play with children.
And that’s the measure of power in today’s Lectionary Readings. Elijah declares the strength God commands and the power God displays, even when he is himself feeling powerless in the aftermath of the Mount Carmel showdowns. It’s not brute force or raw energy. Rather, it is a sense of justice, a victory of controlled “right” over demonic “might” as Jesus portrays it, and the security of a personal empowerment for all who live in new confidence with God, despite their backgrounds or cultural levels of influence, according to Paul.
Alan Redpath tells of a prominent businessman in South Africa who was duly impressed with the luxury of Rolls Royce automobiles. He ordered one for himself and marveled at its speed and handling. He looked through the manual but found no test results listed indicating the horse- power of the engine. So, he went to the dealer.
“I’m sorry,” the dealer told him. “The company never states the horsepower of their engines.”
But the man was not to be put off, and he was too powerful a person to be ignored. Finally, in frustration, the dealer sent a cable to Derby, England, asking the head office for an answer in the matter. Within a short time, there was a reply. It was brief and to the point, a response of only a single word. How much horsepower does the Rolls Royce engine develop? “ADEQUATE.” That’s all. That’s enough.
And that is the celebration in today’s readings. How much strength does God have? Adequate. Adequate to meet my needs and see me through. Adequate to take care of whatever evil power might throw itself up against God or God’s people. Adequate to establish a king on a throne or suckle a child at its mother’s breast.
1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a
The grand kingdom of David and Solomon became divided and its theological mission compromised, yet the perspective of Kings is that the northern tribes (now “Israel”) and the southern portion (now “Judah”) were never truly separated. Throughout the rest of these narratives, the political fortunes of both territories were equally considered. Furthermore, the kings of both realms were similarly judged by the prophetic author as either following in the ways of David and Solomon (and so seeking to fulfill the destiny intended by Yahweh) or compounding the covenant breaking of those who caused the nation to stray from its divine calling and mission. This is most obvious in the harsh assessments given at the time of the northern kingdom’s destruction by the Assyrians (2 Kings 17).
While the rulers of the divided kingdom are mostly (in the north) and often (in the south) forgetting and going contrary to the ways and wishes of Israel’s true monarch, Yahweh, there comes a new development in the idea of who is in charge as God’s anointed and appointed. Note, as 1 and 2 Kings unfold, the emerging and changing role of the public “prophets.” Moses and Joshua each had a unique and ongoing relational interchange with Yahweh, which made their leadership positions virtually unassailable (cf. Numbers 12, 16–17). After the nation was settled in Canaan, such clear, regular and unequivocal communication with Yahweh appears to have been muted. During the times of Eli, we are told, “the word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions” (1 Samuel 3:1). That is why, when Yahweh began speaking directly with Samuel, the Israelites were ready to follow him (1 Samuel 3:19–21). This seems to be the beginning of a national recognition of the status of prophets as part of the necessary social fabric.
When Samuel’s leadership was challenged because the people wanted a king (1 Samuel 8), it caused the first subtle separation of church and state. Samuel was a priest by adoption and worked within the parameters of the cultic shrine. But the kings were clearly outside of the Levitical priesthood or its extended family. Prophets at first began to bridge the connection, and then later sparred with the kings as the sovereignty role of Yahweh was increasingly forgotten.
This tension is clearly seen in the dominant stories of Elijah and Elisha, who battled with the rulers of the northern kingdom in 1 Kings 17–2 Kings 8. Elijah was given the weapons of the curses of the Sinai covenant to bring Ahab and Jezebel to their knees (1 Kings 17:1). He wielded divine power in public displays of combat (1 Kings 18). He was authorized to determine and appoint the leaders of nations (1 Kings 19). And when Ahab and Jezebel presumed that they could displace God-fearing Israelites from their divinely determined inheritance in the land (1 Kings 21), Elijah confronted the pair with stern prophecies that they instead would be removed.
Throughout the rest of the Old Testament history of Israel, the prophets would take on a changing and growing role as the legitimate and authorized spokespersons for Yahweh and the Sinai covenant. Most of their speeches are not new revelations, but rather interpretations of the covenant stipulations for current situations. Ultimately the prophets became the interpreters of Israel’s history, and their writings were collected as a unique section of Hebrew scripture.
Galatians 3:23-29
Returning to Syrian Antioch after their first mission journey (Acts 13-14), Paul and Barnabas brought a report of all that had happened to their home congregation (Acts 14:26–28). That’s when the trouble started (Acts 15; Galatians 2). Reports of Gentile converts to Christianity sizzled toward Jerusalem. Peter came up to Antioch to celebrate this exciting mission work (Galatians 2:11), but others with less enthusiasm were soon sent by James (the brother of Jesus and leader of the Jerusalem congregation) to ensure that all was happening in an appropriate manner (Galatians 2:12). These representatives announced that Gentiles had to become Jews in belief and practice before they could become part of the Christian church. After all, Jesus was Jewish, and was being acclaimed as the Messiah foretold by Israel’s prophets.
These ambassadors of the Jerusalem church instituted separate meal and communion practices (Galatians 2:12-13), making it clear that only those who were ceremonially pure could take positions of leadership in the community. Much to Paul’s surprise, even Peter and Barnabas allied themselves with those advocating these discriminating practices. Paul, of course, was anything but timid, and accosted Peter publicly (Galatians 2:14), creating even stronger polarization among the congregations on these matters.
The disease of Jewish superiority spread to the churches of Paul and Barnabas’ recent mission journey and threatened to split the infant Christian community before it even had an opportunity to get started. In response, Paul dashed off a letter to the churches of “Galatia,” the Roman district through which they had traveled on their mission trek.
In the first part of this passionate letter (Galatians 1–2), Paul reviewed his personal journey to an understanding of freedom in Christ and lamented the recent developments that had seemingly stolen away this freedom from many of them. Next, (Galatians 3–4) Paul went into a lengthy Jewish rabbinic argument about how Abraham was counted as “righteous” in his relationship with God already, before he entered into the rituals of circumcision. Paul concluded that neither circumcision, nor any other ceremonial expression, was essentially necessary for a meaningful relationship with God, and that Jesus’ recent teachings, death, and resurrection only reaffirmed and expanded this truth. In fact, said Paul, the “Law” (that is, the ceremonial dimensions of the Sinai covenant) was like a teacher who was no longer needed after a child became fully mature. Using a rabbinic allegory, Paul pointed to Hagar and her son Ishmael as representations of Abraham’s “slave” side of the family, regulated by the social codes from Mt. Sinai. Sarah and her son Isaac, on the other hand, were symbols of Abraham’s “free” side of the family, and lived out of the delight that was expressed through ecstatic worship in Jerusalem. This is the point of our New Testament Lectionary Reading for today.
In the final portion of his letter (Galatians 5–6), Paul used very strong language to urge the expression of true freedom in Christ. This is found in neither the legalism of ritual religious regimens which bind and burden, nor in licentiousness which turns us evil and ugly. Rather, true Christian freedom is experienced when we no longer consider ourselves under external demands that have no important ends in themselves, but when we voluntarily give ourselves as slaves to God and others out of love. In this context, there can be no division between “Jewish Christians” and “Gentile Christians,” for the church of Jesus Christ has become the new “Israel of God” (Galatians 6:16).
Luke 8:26-39
Perhaps the most striking and clearly Lukan focus in conveying the message about Jesus, is his recognition that God has special care for the poor (noted in Mary’s song, identified in the offering brought by Joseph and Mary at Jesus’ circumcision, asserted through the record of Jesus’ pronouncements of woes on the rich and blessings on the poor, and insinuated in the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man), the sick (notably the number of demon-possessed who are healed by Jesus, and also the lepers who are cleansed and the paralyzed who are restored to mobility), the marginalized (shepherds, children, tax collectors, prostitutes, Samaritans, and the blind), and women (Mary, Elizabeth, widows, the hemorrhaging woman, Mary and Martha, and the crippled woman).
With regard to demon possession, which is the focus of our Gospel Lectionary Reading for today, while the New Testament largely echoes the Old Testament in its minimal theology of angels, there was a significant new development in “angelology” between the Testaments that affected many in the Jewish and early Christian communities regarding their perceptions about angels. After the Babylonian Exile of the Jews (586-517 B.C.), “angelology” expanded and diversified, and took on both mystical and apocalyptic qualities. Emerging speculations debated hierarchies, ranks and supposed key leaders among the angels. Books about spiritual battlegrounds and eternal conflicts became best sellers, and increasingly developed elaborate perceptions about spiritual battlefields where unseen angels barely staved off murderous attacks by demons. Even Jesus’ close friend Peter (2 Peter 2-3) and his younger brother Jude (Jude 8-16) found this fascinating, and saw this spiritual warfare interrupting and disturbing human history and the composure of the early church.
But most of the New Testament stories regarding demonic possession are found in the Gospels. It seems as if the incarnation of divinity in Jesus brought out a more powerful presence of dark spiritual presences as well. So, in passages like today’s reading, it is the demons who quickly identify the power of the divine presence. And it is equally true that the divine presence has power over the demons.
Spiritual warfare continues to be a deep religious engagement. A recent popular song calls on angels as warriors for the defense in complex inner struggles:
They say don't let them in
Close your eyes and clear your thoughts again
But when I'm all alone, they show up on their own
'Cause inner demons fight their battles with fire
Inner demons don't play by the rules
They say "Just push them down, just fight them harder
Why would you give up on it so soon?"
So angels, angels please just keep on fighting
Angels don't give up on me today
'Cause the demons they are there, they just keep biting
'Cause inner demons just won't go away
So angels please, hear my prayer
Life is pain, life's not fair
So angels please, please stay here
Take the pain, take the fear
They say it won't be hard, they can't see the battles in my heart
But when I turn away
The demons seem to stay
'Cause inner demons don't play well with angels
They cheat and lie and steal and break and bruise
Angels please protect me from these rebels
This is a battle I don't want to lose
So angels, angels please just keep on fighting
Angels don't give up on me today
'Cause the demons they are there, they just keep biting
'Cause inner demons just won't go away
So angels please, hear my prayer
Life is pain, life's not fair
So angels please, please stay here
Take the pain, take the fear
(Julia Brennan. Inner Demons lyrics © Songs Music Publishing, Tunecore Inc.)
Application
There is a scene in Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring where a partnership is forged among those who would accompany Frodo on his journey to destroy the ring of power. The movie version makes for a very gripping visual illustration, and the original literary text is equally as moving. What comes through is a sense of selflessness as the bond that unites these creatures. Furthermore, each subsumes his will to the greater cause, and trusts an unseen and transcendent good for an outcome that will bless all of Middle Earth, even if the trek itself causes the demise of any or all of the compatriots.
So it is in Jesus’ small glimpse of the mission of God. In a world turned cold to its creator, in an age riddled by Delphic oracles and temple prostitutes and emperors claiming divinity, in a little corner of geography where messianic hopes ran high, God called together a strange team to make its mark by playing a different game.
Walter Wangerin, Jr., in his great allegory, The Book of the Dun Cow (along with its wonderful sequel, The Book of Sorrows) captures both the scope of the divine mission as well as the under-rated character of the team. If the focus remains on the team apart from the mission, the point is lost. God is reclaiming God’s creation, but does so through human agency. The game is fierce and the playing field is rough. Only those who can tear up their personal score sheets in order get into God’s game will make the team. Only they are truly called. Only they are equipped to serve and follow and play on the greatest winning team of all time.
Jesus was on the road to the cross in our Gospel lesson, and he calls others to join him in that pilgrimage. The Cost of Discipleship, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer noted,is self-denial, and Jesus’ words are a strong call to that vocation, not as an end in itself or as a means to a self-help goal (like dieting), but rather as a counter-cultural missional testimony. Those who travel this road do not get to Easter without first enduring Good Friday; they do not presume a glorious outcome that gathers the media like paparazzi vultures, but sense that the journey of service brings light in darkness, hope in despair, healing for pain, and faith where power corrupts and destroys.
Have you entered the cause?
Alternative Application (1 Kings 19:1-35)
When the nation of Israel came out of Egypt and met God at Mount Sinai there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the Pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the Pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as prior to the Exodus the Pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai, God and Moses hammered out the political and social and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel’s future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause, “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage” (Exodus 20:1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the Covenant.
Yet even this God would need mediaries. God would require human spokespersons to translate his glory into Hebrew speech. The greatest of all the spokespersons, of course, was Moses. Moses stood above the common Israeli crowd, a half-god hero, a leader without peers.
Moses stood at the helm of Israel’s wandering ship for forty years, bringing her to the lights of Canaan’s harbor. Then Moses died, and the navigational sextant was placed in Joshua’s hands. Joshua helped Israel claim the new colonial territory on behalf of the Kingdom of Heaven. And when he died, the lines of authority passed into the care of the “elders” of the people (Joshua 24). These older, wiser men were eyewitnesses of many of the great legends that created the nation of Israel.
When they died, the legends grew, but the faith wilted. Israel was adrift at sea, lost in a storm of international intrigue and factional dissension. A few powerful “judges” managed to prevent the confederation from disintegrating all together, but it was obvious that stronger measures of leadership were necessary to bring the nation back to days of self-confidence, and a place of recognition among neighboring kingdoms.
The crisis of the book of Judges precipitated grassroots calls for a king. “Give us a king!” they told Samuel. “Give us a king!” they prayed to God, so long hidden. The outcome was the monarchy—established by Saul, consolidated by David, expanded by Solomon, ripped apart by Jeroboam, and eventually whimpering into oblivion at the hands of the Assyrian empire (722 BC) and the Babylonian scourge (586 BC).
During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, often surrounded by their cultic priests. These “outside-the-system” renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the Temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the Covenant. Elijah was one of the greatest among these. He lived up to his name, which meant “My God is Yahweh.”
Although Elijah was able to do many special and seemingly miraculous things, he is never portrayed as a wizard or some kind of superhuman figure. In fact, all of the miracles that happen when Elijah is around point only to God as the one who brings life and promotes healing. It is in this manner that James raises up Elijah as an example for us to follow when praying. Elijah wields no power; rather he understands what God is all about, what God’s goals for his world are, and where to find the imprint of his creative and restoring fingers.
Elijah understood the Covenant stipulations that when God’s people broke faith with God, he would withhold the needed rains until they finally came to their senses. Elijah was well-versed in the promises of God’s Covenant that God would make the world blossom for the good of God’s people when they trusted him. Elijah’s prayers were not secret codes that moved the tumblers of heaven’s resources vaults. Rather, his prayers were God’s own speech become audible again in an age that had forgotten how to listen.
We often want prayer to be our magic potion that will force God to do our bidding. No one can move the fingers of God until they have first absorbed God’s Covenant and God’s character and God’s vision, struggling like Elijah to understand the mind of God, and living in a way that has put God’s priorities first.
