Elisha and the Shunammite Woman

Elisha and the Shunammite Woman

2 Kings 4:8-37

I am wondering this morning: how many of you knew Clarence Cranford?

“Cranny,” as he was affectionately known, was pastor of this church for a total of 29 years.  He began his pastorate in 1942 and retired in March of 1961 . . . then he came back to be pastor in November of 1961 then finally (really) retired in 1971.  Kind of like Michael Jordan.  And, even not knowing him in person—just by reading the official history of the church–it’s   clear that in the eyes of the congregation, Cranny was certainly that kind of superstar.

I, of course, didn’t know Cranny in person—just by reputation and what I’ve read about him myself, so I took some time this week to call some of Calvary’s more long-time members, shall we say, people who have been around this place for a few years longer than I have, to see what they remember about Cranny.  Thanks to Bill and Berniece Harward and Doris Vermilya, I learned a little more than I had known from just reading Calvary’s history.  I knew already that Cranny had come to be Calvary’s pastor when he was just 32 years old, and that he had been the pastor of this church during the most influential and robust days in its history, but I didn’t know some of the things you only know by being in someone’s presence. 

For example: I didn’t know that Cranny especially loved the young adults of the congregation.  He worked hard to support and grow that part of the church, largely by befriending younger Calvary members, having them over to his house, offering them support and advice as they needed it.  I learned that Cranny was a kind of reserved guy outside the pulpit, but that he was an engaging and personable preacher who preached exactly 20 minutes every Sunday, you could set your clock by his sermons.  I learned that Cranny was a pastor who visited people in their homes, all the time, and that he avoided committee meetings.  Clearly a smart man.

It seemed appropriate on this All Saints’ Sunday to remember someone who was certainly a saint of this church and, really of the larger Baptist world.  And, it may seem strange, but I’ve been thinking that remembering a great leader might have some relevance for the passage we’re studying today from our Hebrew text.

Remember that last week Pastor Leah began us on what will be a four week sermon series on just one chapter of the Hebrew text, 2 Kings chapter 4.  I hope you got a chance to at least skim the chapter this week; it’s filled with four exciting stories of the prophet Elisha, Bible stories that maybe (probably) you didn’t learn in Sunday School.  It’s right up there on my priority list as your pastor to help you know your Bible well, and I think knowing these stories will put you far ahead of most.  And also help if you ever are a contestant on Jeopardy!.  Today we’re reading the story of the Shunnamite woman and her son, the longest of the four stories in chapter 4.  And as you just heard me read the whole thing, you’ll remember that the story is basically a healing story, like many in the Bible.  The connection between it, then, and my mention of Cranny, you might be wondering?

Well, this is a healing story, it’s true, and to the Shunnamite woman and certainly to her son I am quite sure that’s the major importance of the story.  But within the context of the larger story of the Hebrew people, I’m thinking that the point of this story and maybe the others in this chapter is: it’s always tough to be the successor. 

Well, I shouldn’t say that. 

What I should say is that it’s always tough to be the successor when the person you’re following was a superstar.  An excellent leader is, of course, an incredible gift, but there’s no doubt it just makes being the next leader a little harder when the guy who came before you was such a tremendously influential leader that his legacy looms large, like an ongoing presence, even when there’s a new leader there to take charge.

And the truth of the matter is that the reason we hear these stories at the beginning of 2 Kings is just that dynamic: Elisha is having a bit of a tough time following one of the greatest prophets in Israel’s history.  It probably didn’t help matters much that Elisha had been Elijah’s assistant before he took over, or that their names were so similar they couldn’t help but be confused.  Whatever all the extenuating circumstances, there can be no doubt that Elisha was having a hard time establishing the respect and influence he needed to do his job as the Lord’s prophet effectively. 

Elisha’s role as Israel’s prophet begins at the start of 2 Kings, when Elijah is taken up into heaven and the company of the prophets gather to discern who their next leader will be.  To get a sense of how hard of a transition it was for poor Elisha, take a quick look into the second chapter, right after the prophets have met and named Elisha successor to Elijah.  As Elisha leaves the meeting with his new title, some young kids, hecklers, followed him along the roadway and teased him . . . because he was bald.

It was really a pretty terrible way for Elisha to start out, being teased by some kids about how bald he was.  To add insult to injury, a careful reader of the text will not miss the reference in chapter one telling us that Elijah was a hairy man . . . .  So right then Elisha has to begin asserting his power as a prophet of the Lord, just to make sure everyone understands he has the chops to be a leader just like Elijah.  It just can’t have been easy for poor Elisha, and the writer who compiled stories of the prophet knew that, as he told Elisha’s story, he would quickly have to establish the prophet’s credibility.  And so the stories we read leading up to chapter four are stories about Elisha taking on the challenge and filling those big prophetic shoes of Elijah’s. 

In chapter three we read all about Elisha establishing his political credentials in his interaction with Jehoram, the king of Israel, because everybody knows that you can’t be an effective prophet if you can’t deal with the king, right?  But chapter four is full of these stories establishing Elisha’s pastoral credibility, some stories that recount evidence of his close connection with God as it played out in his interaction as a pastor to the people of Israel.  Last week he helped a desperate widow save her family.  Today, it gets even more dramatic!

Here’s the rundown.  Elisha the new head prophet had occasion, in the course of his work, to travel through a town called Shunem.  There was in this town a woman, who apparently had some means.  She was married to an older, wealthy man and they didn’t have any children, we learn, so maybe she lived her life kind of like a patron to people she thought were important.  Seems Elisha had enough credibility to convince her to support his work, and somehow she took it upon herself to invite the prophet over for dinner, where it seems he really made an impression on her.  The Shunammite woman began to really think of Elisha as a holy and important man, and so she proposed to her husband that they build a little addition to their house—kind of a guest cottage that Elisha could use for his own purposes whenever he traveled through town.

This is a lovely gesture for the pastor anytime, but especially helpful in a society without modern conveniences like, say, highway rest stops and easily accessible motels.

So Elisha enthusiastically used this gift of the woman of Shunem, and one day, maybe when he’d arrived after a particularly long stint of travel, he was laying on the bed she’d so helpfully provided, thinking about how nice it was to stretch his legs and lay down on someplace other than the ground.  And he got to thinking it might be nice to repay her kindness to him with a gesture of thanks.

Here begins a rather humorous part of the story, where Elisha employs the help of his trusty assistant Gehazi in communicating his gratitude and offer of help to the woman (we know that someone is really important, don’t we, when they have an assistant…who talks for them…).  Elisha tells Gehazi first to ask her if she needs any word of influence with the king (whom, as we all know because we have read chapter three and know how very important Elisha is, that Elisha is very well acquainted with).  But she says no thanks, and then it’s Gehazi who suggests that an appropriate thank you gift might be to give her a child.  Great idea, Elisha thought, so he had Gehazi bring the woman up to his room, where he made the pronouncement that she would soon have a son.

Here’s the thing: childlessness is hard for anybody who wants to be a parent, but in the culture in which the Shunammite woman lived, childlessness and especially the lack of a male child, was a devastating situation.  It was shameful in terms of a reputation in the community—a woman’s value was largely based on the male children she produced for her husband; it put a woman especially at severe economic risk, as she’d have no one to take care of her in the event that she needed it; and it also implied the pretty significant displeasure of God.  Why would God withhold the most important thing a woman could ever do in her entire life if God wasn’t really, really unhappy with her?  It was just a terribly sorrow-filled life situation for the Shunammite woman, so she was not even interested in entertaining the possibility, of raising her hopes one more time, if the prophet couldn’t produce.  But he insisted, and she did, miraculously, give birth to a son (leading us readers to marvel at the power of the new prophet, don’t forget!).

The story continues, and gets even more dramatic.  The woman has a son, he gets sick, he dies, the woman knows exactly where to go and what to do in this terrible situation—to the prophet Elisha, of course—and she does, and he sends trusty Gehazi to take the prophet’s walking stick and use it to heal the child.  But the woman knows who really has the power, and she won’t leave without the prophet himself.  Sure enough, we soon learn that Elisha’s staff isn’t powerful enough—the actual presence of that important man is required and, sure enough, when he shows up, the child is raised from the dead—we know this, of course, because the kid sneezes seven times, of all the details to include . . . seven being the number of wholeness, just adding to our impression that this prophet has it going on.

We get to the end of this second story in 2 Kings 4, this story in whole life and the life of her family is completely transformed—31 verses!—and we still don’t know the woman’s name.  You know why?  Because this story is not about the woman at all; it’s about letting us know that Elisha is a prophet whose power is real and whose endorsement by God is genuine and true.

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to believe it.

You know, I am not Cranny’s immediate successor.  Since Cranny left Calvary’s pastorate in 1971, three other pastors have held this pulpit: George Hill, Lynn Bergfalk, and now me.  And some days I thank my lucky stars that I am not George Hill, who came right after Cranny (but who certainly made a mark in his own way, have no doubt).

But the truth of the matter is: great leader though he was in so many ways, Cranny’s greatest impact came in making room for the work of God in this community.  I know this, for one thing, because I went to visit Cranny’s widow Dorothy when I first came to be pastor here.  She was 91 and still living in Olney—she’s since died.  She wasn’t talking much by the time I met her, but I do remember her looking me straight in the eye and saying as clear as day: “I know they’re all saying that Cranny was a saint, but don’t believe that for one minute.  He was just like you and me!”  And I know this because I am the pastor, and I am definitely not a saint . . . like you, I’m just another follower of Jesus who hopes in some way or another that we might live our lives making room for the work of God to unfold.  Like Clarence Cranford, like the prophet Elisha, like the saints whose names we have called in remembrance today.

We can do miracles or we can waste the lives we’ve been given.  The truth is that in the end, the only thing that really matters about the lives that we live is whether they point to God, whether those whose lives intersect our own look back on their experience of knowing and interacting with you and me, and can see, clear as day, traces of God’s power and goodness and grace. 

Whether we come first or we follow after, each of our lives has the potential to bear the mark of God’s presence in this world.  We may never be great prophets like Elisha or great pastors like Cranny, or even anybody whose name is ever marked in anybody’s history book.  But we’ve been given these lives, and we choose now how they’re lived.  On this day, All Saints’ Day, we offer our lives to God again, hoping beyond hope that those who come behind us can look back and see with no hesitation, the clear mark of God in the lives we’ve lived. 

May it be so.  Amen.