"The Mantle and the Question" (July 26, 2026 Sermon)
/The Mantle and the Question
2 Kings 2:1–15
Now when the Lord was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. Elijah said to Elisha, “Stay here, for the Lord has sent me as far as Bethel.” But Elisha said, “As the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So they went down to Bethel. The company of prophets who were in Bethel came out to Elisha and said to him, “Do you know that today the Lord will take your master away from you?” And he said, “Yes, I know; keep silent.”
Elijah said to him, “Elisha, stay here, for the Lord has sent me to Jericho.” But he said, “As the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So they came to Jericho. The company of prophets who were at Jericho drew near to Elisha and said to him, “Do you know that today the Lord will take your master away from you?” And he answered, “Yes, I know; keep silent.”
Then Elijah said to him, “Stay here, for the Lord has sent me to the Jordan.” But he said, “As the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So the two of them went on. Fifty men of the company of prophets also went and stood at some distance from them, as they both were standing by the Jordan. Then Elijah took his mantle and rolled it up and struck the water; the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and the two of them crossed on dry ground.
When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me what I may do for you before I am taken from you.” Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.” He responded, “You have asked a hard thing, yet if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not.” As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. Elisha kept watching and crying out, “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces.
He picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan. He took the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him and struck the water. He said, “Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah? Where is he?” He struck the water again, and the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and Elisha crossed over.
When the company of prophets who were at Jericho saw him at a distance, they declared, “The spirit of Elijah rests on Elisha.” They came to meet him and bowed to the ground before him.
The last time we were together, we were near the end of 1 Kings. Elijah — not to be confused with Elisha today — had just had that epic showdown with the prophets of Baal at Mount Carmel, and then fled the scene because King Ahab and Jezebel were none too pleased about it. Then came that moment when God found Elijah: the whirlwind, but God wasn’t in the whirlwind; the fire, but God wasn’t in the fire. God came to Elijah in the silence and said, in effect, “Elijah, take a nap, get a snack, go back to work — and call another prophet, Elisha, to take over once your ministry has concluded.” That’s where we pick up today, in the book of 2 Kings.
But before we get going, I want to invite you into a brief exercise. Think of someone you loved dearly who is no longer with us — someone who, as Mr. Rogers would say, “loved you into being.” Someone who taught you a great deal, someone whose advice you wish you could still ask for. Let’s spend thirty seconds in silence together, thinking of who that person is for you. And then I asked several of you to share, in a single word, what you were feeling: peaceful, sad, grateful, light, appreciative, proud, happy. Quite a range of emotions — and I expected that, because I wanted us to sit for a moment in what Elisha might have been feeling as he prepared to say goodbye to his mentor, Elijah.
A Farewell Journey
Elisha knew the time was coming. He and Elijah set out on something of a farewell journey, and all along the way, companies of prophets kept trailing alongside them. We don’t know their names, but they keep approaching Elisha and asking, “Do you know that today the Lord will take your master from you?” And Elisha says, “Yes, I know. Be quiet.” That’s the “Stephen Fearing paraphrase” of the passage — but you can hear the sadness in it. He’s essentially saying, “Yes, yes, I know it’s time to say goodbye, but I’m not ready yet.” I think we all know that feeling, when we know a goodbye is coming and we don’t want it to.
Eventually Elijah and Elisha come to the banks of the Jordan River, and I think Elisha knows this goodbye cannot be put off any longer. Elijah says to Elisha, “What is it you want from me?” — not unlike what God once asked Solomon back in 1 Kings. And Elisha says, “I want a double portion of your ruach — your breath, your spirit.” It’s the same word used for the Spirit of God that hovered over the waters of creation. Elisha is essentially saying to Elijah: “Whatever measure of God’s presence you carry, I want that — and then I want even more of it.” It’s a bold ask, but a wise one, not unlike what Solomon asked God for: not wealth or long life, but a lev shomea — a listening heart.
Crossing the Jordan
Elijah doesn’t give an easy yes. His answer amounts to: “That’s a good thing to ask for, but it isn’t exactly mine to give — it’s God’s. If you see me as I am taken from you, though, I think it will be granted.” And then Elijah takes off his mantle and, on the banks of the Jordan, strikes the water with it — the way a toddler might slap a pool noodle against the surface of a pool. And the water parts, and the two of them walk across on dry ground — calling to mind, of course, another story of parted waters: the Red Sea.
Once they’ve crossed, Elijah is taken up, and his mantle falls. Now — what took Elijah up into heaven? A chariot? Not quite. If you read the text carefully, it doesn’t actually say Elijah rode in the chariot. Sorry to ruin that for everybody. What it says is that Elijah was taken up into heaven, and that a chariot of fire came between him and Elisha. Does that distinction really matter? Either way, Elijah receives an extraordinary send-off, more dramatic even than the one Moses received! And as the chariot disappears, and Elijah disappears with it, Elisha cries out, “Father! Father!” The text isn’t entirely clear whether he’s calling out to God or to Elijah as a father figure, but either way, it’s clear that in this moment of transition, Elisha is mourning the departure of someone who meant everything to him.
And then — silence. We know that silence. The silence after we say goodbye to someone we love, a mentor, a guide. And then comes that “okay, now what?” moment. Elisha picks up Elijah’s mantle, which he realizes now belongs to him.
The Second Strike
Here’s a detail I think I’ve overlooked in past times I’ve preached this text: Elisha is now on the opposite side of the Jordan from where he needs to be, and the water has closed back up behind him. He has to part it again himself. So he takes the mantle that is now his, strikes the water — and nothing happens. Nothing. If you read carefully, he has to try twice. The first time, he strikes the water, and it stays as it was.
How many of us know that moment — when the mantle has been passed to us, and we step into the work we’ve been trained for, and it just... doesn’t work? I recently got back from a hymn-writing conference in Princeton, New Jersey, and I found myself thinking about a mentor of mine, an Elijah of sorts — Michael Morgan, who taught me how to write hymns, and who died three or four years ago. This past week, I went back through the hymns I’ve written over the last ten years, separating the “wheat” from the “chaff.” Some are good. Some are genuinely terrible, and will never see the light of day — which is probably for the best. But we all know what it feels like to realize, “okay, this is mine to carry now,” and have it fail the first time.
So Elisha strikes the water, and nothing happens. And then — in that moment of frustration, maybe even failure, though I’m not sure it was — he asks, “Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?” And he strikes the water again. And this time, it parts, and he walks back across.
Where Is God?
What I want to leave us with today is that question. Because when someone who taught us so much about the love of God, about justice and kindness, has departed, it’s tempting to ask, “Where are they now?” It’s good to remember the people who loved us into being — that’s why I began this sermon the way I did. But notice: Elisha doesn’t ask, “Where is Elijah?” That’s a question that looks backward. Instead, he asks, “Where is God?” Where is God now? Where is God leading me now? I think that’s the answer Elijah, from heaven, would give if he could: Don’t ask where I am. Ask where God is.
This church is in a season of transition. We’ve said goodbye to some remarkable pillars of this congregation. And individually, I know many of you are in your own liminal moments, having said goodbye to people you’ve loved deeply. So what I want to lift up today is this: it is okay to be sad. It is okay to grieve. It is okay to feel gratitude for those who have gone before us. And those people — whoever they are for you — are cheering us on from heaven, saying: ask the right question. Don’t ask about us. Ask how God is moving here and now.
So together, as the mantle is passed to all of us, may we ask that question continually — in our grief and in our gratitude: Where is God? Because, friends, God is on both sides of the Jordan as we cross it again.
In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s beloved children, say: Amen.