The widow's hand

Christian Century, Sept 27, 2000 by Heidi Neumark

MANNY, THE TREASURER of our church, is often the bearer of grim tidings. When he brings me bad news it makes me think I should become a more aggressive fund raiser. But if I spend more time raising money, how can I be a pastor? And if I don't, how will we remain a church? How much longer can we go on like the widow of Zarephath?

I have been increasingly drawn to the story of this nameless widow, who appears in what biblical commentators refer to as the Elijah cycle, a series of stories vaunting the prophet's miraculous powers. God tells Elijah that a time of drought is at hand, a consequence of the nation's self-centered behavior under King Ahab. Elijah survives by drinking water from a brook and eating bread and meat delivered by ravens. But after awhile the brook dries up. At that point, God sends Elijah to the village of Zarephath and tells him that a widow there will feed him. He finds her as she's gathering firewood.

By all fights, this widow should be in worse shape than Elijah--she has to be one of those most affected by the drought. In a time of national crisis, her needs would be considered last, especially under the regime of the arrogant King Ahab. And indeed, when Elijah shows up and requests a drink, she is gathering sticks to warm a last supper for herself and her son. The woman wants to be hospitable, but when he asks for bread to go with the water, it's too much. She tells him that she's gathering wood to bake the handful of meal and bit of oil that's left for herself and her son, and that they will eat this meal and await death.

Then she hears another word: "Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake ... 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 upon the earth." She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail (1 Kings 17:13-16).

Here is a woman about to die with her child, a mother unable to feed her little boy, who still manages to love her neighbor as herself. Yes, Elijah predicts the miracle, but she is the one who sets the miracle in motion by her trust and risky generosity. So why is this story part of the Elijah cycle--why is the widow only a backdrop to show off Elijah's powers?

Perhaps because Elijah is the same male prophet who triumphs in the glitzy showdown with his opponents, the prophets of Baal. In that story, before Elijah calls down fire on a mound of lumber, his servants soak the wood with jars of water. The wood is thorougly drenched and then catches fire. In contrast to this megamiracle, all the poor widow does is set fire to a few sticks in order to cook a little cake.

Yet I can't help but think that her wood is well soaked too. She is the mother of a little boy who came into the world gleaming with her blood, a little boy she nursed, rocked, bathed, soothed, fussed over and taught to walk. I don't imagine that she prepared her child's last supper with dry eyes. I think that the sticks she gathered were wet not from jars filled by servants, but from tears. Surely the wood was immersed in the waters of her grief when hope caught fire and she baked the bread and shared supper with Elijah.

This story never appears in our church's assigned cycle of Sunday readings. Instead we get the installment in which Elijah raises a widow's son from the dead. In that story the woman is portrayed as dependent on Elijah's miraculous power; she is a guilt-ridden sinner who sees her son's illness as God's punishment. Why are the lectionary editors more comfortable with the second story?

Those of us who are part of the white, middle-class church need to be careful that the poor do not become a backdrop for our charity. We must take care that quotas and programs and conferences on women, children and poverty do not become a forum for displaying our goodness and compassion while the church goes about other business dry-eyed and silent. I need to be careful that the poor are not the backdrop for my own good deeds. Pastors, priests and official prophets (mostly white) are cast as miracle-working Elijahs for the poor (mostly not white). It's not only racist and wrong, it's impossible. Most of us can't keep up megamiracles for long.

There is no point in romanticizing poverty. There is, however, a point in recognizing the power of those who fight for life and bear witness to a death-defying hope. We could say that Elijah, the male prophet, does this and therefore deserves the spotlight in the lectionary text. After all, he raises someone from the dead. But the widow raises a child--without a husband, without a safety net, without welfare or workfare. She does it in a time of idolatrous national arrogance, famine and drougnt, Raising the dead requires a single act of trust and prayer from Elijah. Raising a child requires countless acts of trust and many prayers, especially for a single mother.