Last Sunday after the Epiphany
February 11, 2024
II Kings 2:1-12

It’s one of those great annual traditions like the Super Bowl, Mardi Gras, Valentine’s Day, Ash Wednesday. Once a year, I get a letter from the Church Pension Group about my retirement date. Now, mandatory retirement for clergy is 72. I was ordained when I was 25. I turn 39 next month. You do the math. I still have a long way to go. And yet, every year, the same letter comes. And though that date is far off, it is not as far as it once was.

I’ve been around the church long enough now, I’ve seen the turnover. I’ve seen clergy retire, I’ve seen new clergy come get ordained. Believe it or not, I am not the young, hip priest anymore; if I ever was hip. But this the life cycle of the church. And whether the bishop has just laid hands on your head or you are 71 and a half, every priest gets the same letter telling us when we have to hang it up. There is no changing that, it just approaches, inexorably, day by day, year by year. 

There’s a similar feeling in that wonderful Old Testament lesson about Elijah, Elisha, and the chariots of fire. This takes place about 800 years before Jesus. Now, Elijah is the wise old prophet. And Elisha is the young up and comer who is following Elijah. I know it does not help that their names are so similar. Anyway, Elijah and Elisha are walking out into the wilderness, and you get the looming sense of departure. Twice Elisha hears that the Lord is about to take his master away. There is no stopping it.

The old prophet, Elijah, takes his mantle, that’s like a scarf, strikes the river Jordan, and they walk across it on dry ground. Remember, anytime the people of God encounter a body of water in the Bible, something big is going to happen. And this is where the phrase, “the mantle of leadership,” comes from. But you can tell, that Elisha is not yet ready for his master to leave him. Elisha asks for a double portion of Elijah’s spirit. Quick note here – that’s not twice as much, as we think it. No, say a father had three sons, he would divvy up his property into four shares, and the firstborn son would get two shares. A double portion. So, Elisha is asking for Elijah’s spirit, certainly, but only a fraction of it. 

And then in such a magnificent scene, down comes a fiery whirlwind from heaven and Elisha cries out, “Father, father, the chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” and Elijah is whisked away. This should ring a bell. You know the old spiritual, swing low, sweet chariot. The movie, Chariots of Fire. Again, the mantle of leadership. 

And while all that is interesting, it’s not the heart of the story. No, the heart of the story is about the changing of the generations. The mandatory retirement date for Elijah has come and gone, and the prophet who was once the young student, must now become the master. The mantle of authority is passed down. This is a story about turning over what we most hold dear, our influence.

This helps us think through our current cultural moment, I think. Some demographers are calling this year Peak 65 – each day in 2024, 12,000 Americans are turning 65. That is the highest rate it has ever been. “Father, father, the chariots of baby boomers and their 401(k)s!”

It’s also something that we are living through at Trinity Church. My predecessor, Susan Kennard, retired. And I hope to have picked her up mantle. It’s happening at the organ bench. We had one organist for so long, and now we have an interim, and a search committee looking for the next one. I sense it in our leadership, as the next generation picks up their mantle of leadership. We stand at a very delicate time here at Trinity. It’s like we have all just crossed the river, Elijah and Elisha together, and we’re not quite sure what will happen next.

The first thing I have to say, to those who are as Elijah, is that we are profoundly grateful. We know your stories. You have been with this church through transitions, hurricanes, a pandemic, the ups and downs of congregational life. Those who are Elisha among us, we still have much to learn. And like Elisha, we don’t want you to go anywhere. We need you to teach us. 

The second thing I have to say, to those who are as Elisha, is that we are incredibly hopeful. Hopeful that you will follow in the same spirit, to take up your mantle of leadership, to have just a measure of the diligence, faithfulness, and dedication of those who came before you. You would not be here without them. We need you to step up. 

Because at the end of the day, that mandatory retirement letter is coming for all of us. No one of us will be here forever. One day, not a single one of us will be a member of Trinity Church. The chariots of fire will have taken all of us away. And yet, we hope and pray, that our children and their children our children’s children will still follow this way of Jesus. Because the church is not contingent upon any one leader or generation. Elijah is taken up in the chariots of fire and is no more. Eventually, Elisha also dies and is buried. And yet, the people of God go on. 

Jesus talks about it, too, when he is transfigured into dazzling array on the mountaintop, with Moses and Elijah. Even Jesus, one day, will depart from his disciples. And it will be up to his followers, and their followers, and their followers, all through the generations to us, to carry on the work of Jesus. It’s what I call, the conveyor belt of life. It just keeps moving. 

So what I mostly want to say is this – it’s not about young and old. It’s not about one generation against another. It’s not about the wisdom of Elijah or the youthfulness of Elisha. No, it’s about the Spirit of the Living God that resides in each human heart. It’s about all of us, regardless of who we are or when those chariots of fire are coming for us. It’s that we are one body, committed to the Lord God and to each other, regardless of age or experience.

One of the real gifts of the church, is that we are a truly intergenerational community. Everywhere else in the world, we get divvied based on the accident of when we were born. Not so in the church, and this is our greatest strength. We need to treasure that. That alike, we all approach God’s holy table to receive grace. Alike, we will gather this Wednesday, and get ashes on our forehead, from the smallest infant to the oldest person among us, we will encounter our own mortality. Elijah should not be bitter about it. Elisha should not think they free from it. 

Maybe this is all a way of saying that, theologically, we’re probably not as important as we think we are. It’s a lesson in humility. Elijah to Elisha. Jesus to Peter, James, and John. One generation to another. And I’ve seen this change in myself. When I was the hip, young priest, I would sit in the front row at clergy conference, thinking I knew everything. Now, I sit in the back row, like those two guys in the Muppets, and shake my head at all the young priests who think they know everything. But now, after having read through this story again, I realize that I’ve been wrong in both those ways. What I’m learning again, is the lesson in humility because I actually know very little, and I’m not nearly as important as I think I should be. And that, one day, the chariots of fire will come from me.

What remains, however, is God. And maybe I’m just weird, and maybe it’s because that date on the mandatory retirement letter keeps getting closer, maybe it’s because I’m pushing forty, but I find this to be completely liberating. I’m free. Free to learn. Free to grow. Free to follow Jesus, wherever it make take me. 

Though I am no Elijah, this is what I hope to pass on today. Use whatever time you have to build up the kingdom of God, to serve Christ as Christ has served you, to love your neighbor as yourself. Whether you think those chariots of fire are a long way off or whether you see them coming around the corner is not relevant to God. What is relevant, is what you do until then.