This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa, on November 11, 2018. It’s based on 1 Kings 17:8-16. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson.
1 Kings 17:8-16
8 Then the word of the Lord came to Elijah, saying, 9 “Go now to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you.” 10 So he set out and went to Zarephath. When he came to the gate of the town, a widow was there gathering sticks; he called to her and said, “Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink.” 11 As she was going to bring it, he called to her and said, “Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.” 12 But she said, “As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.” 13 Elijah said to her, “Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son. 14 For thus says the Lord the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.” 15 She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. 16 The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah.
Why her?
Go now to Zarephath, God tells Elijah, for I have commanded a widow there to feed you.
Why her? Why a widow? Why a woman with such limited resources, only a handful of meal and a little oil? Why a mother with no hope for the future, planning to prepare one last meal for herself and her son?
Surely God could have fed Elijah in countless other ways. Indeed, just before these verses, God commands ravens to supply Elijah with food. They feed him morning and night, bringing him bread and meat, until the brook Elijah is drinking from dries up—prompting the move to Zarephath.
If God could use ravens to feed his servant, then surely God could have called upon someone with greater means to offer water and bread to Elijah, someone for whom the offering would have been reasonable, someone who would not have missed a drink of water and a bit of bread, someone with more than just enough for one last meal.
Why her?
We don’t know her name. We don’t know how her husband died or how long he’s been gone. We don’t know how old her son is or how long she’s been raising him on her own. We don’t know exactly how it happened that God commanded her to feed Elijah.
Did the voice of the Lord come to her as she was gathering sticks that day? Did God appear in a dream the night before? Did an angel arrive to issue the command?
And how did she react? How did she answer God? Did she say, Why me?
And was it not the first time she had said, Why me?
Did she say, Why me? when her husband died and she became, in an instant, one of the most vulnerable in her society?
Did she say, Why me? after she put her son to bed at night knowing that there was only a handful of flour left?
Did she wonder how she could possibly feed another?
Did she wonder why she should?
Even though God has somehow commanded her to feed Elijah, she is reluctant. She explains her situation to Elijah, swearing on the life of his God, not hers. As surely as the Lord your God lives, I don’t have any bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die.
And Elijah’s response? Don’t be afraid.
Don’t be afraid? How could she not be afraid? What little she had left was being demanded of her. She was preparing not only for her own death, but for the death of her child. Don’t be afraid?
Elijah assures her that the jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land. This, he says, is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says.
She’s not an Israelite. She doesn’t claim this God. But this God claims her. This God speaks to her. This God calls to her. This God invites her to trust and to not be afraid. This God provides for her and her son. This God saves her.
The Lord, the God of Israel, saves her—not just with an unending supply of flour and oil, but with the invitation to be part of God’s saving work. In the face of certain death, she becomes an instrument of life for Elijah.
So why her?
Because God desired to feed and to save not just Elijah, but this woman and her son who so desperately needed freedom from want and fear and certain death.
Why her?
So that those who witnessed this miracle—and all of us who consider this story still today—might be challenged to see beyond first impressions and stereotyped judgments.
This widow was in need of God, as we all are, but she wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t to be pitied. She wasn’t to be the recipient of charity. God didn’t send Elijah to feed her. She, despite what appeared to be limited resources and no hope for the future, did an incredible thing. She trusted the word of God. She accepted God’s invitation to trust and to not be afraid. And through her, with her cooperation, God’s work was done.
Why her?
Maybe so that we might wonder about our own willingness to trust God and to not be afraid, especially when it appears as though there’s simply not enough.
Why her?
Maybe so that we might be willing to see all people—especially those we deem in need—as ones through whom God might be working to feed us, to save us.
Why her?
Maybe so that we can aim to learn and celebrate her name as she is made manifest in the ones today most vulnerable in our world, the ones today without a home, the ones today qualifying for welfare benefits, the ones today fleeing violence and seeking asylum, the ones today through whom God’s work is being done. Amen.