Elijah adjusted his weight on his travelling stick as he walked along the dusty road that gave him a full view of the gate to the village of Zarephath in Phoenicia, the hometown of Ahab’s evil wife Jezebel. Her father had been the high priest and eventually instituted himself as king.
At first a few Israelites had worshipped ba’al diplomatically, and then Ahab built a temple and an altar for ba’al, legalizing idolatry. Of course it was impossible to serve God at heart and worship ba’al publicly, and by this act of his, led the entire nation blindly into sin, instead of worshipping the true God of their fathers and following His commandments.
The crease deepened between his brows. How much longer would the people of Israel not acknowledge their God? This wasn’t and couldn’t be a spell cast upon them, how was it possible for them to forget so easily their own God and His wonders told in years gone, or did they never really believe?
An embittered laugh tore through his lips, the majority weren’t even sure which side to be on, many knew that YHWH was lord, but they enjoyed the sinful pleasure of following the king and queen in idolatrous worship.
When would they decide to wipe of this self-applied dirt from their eyes and really see that the Canaanite god was silent because it wasn’t real and false because they had shifted their dependency on YHWH to false things, power, status, appearances and material possessions, these things easily became masters as soon as devotion is attributed to it, which was what the Israelites had so easily forgotten, but now, in these times of conviction, they readily assumed irate lords... But the Israelites knew these things already, their scribes and priests had made sure to impact this knowledge to them, what then was the matter?
Oh, he was well aware of the names they called him, the confronter, the loner, some had even gone to the extent of calling him the most dramatic prophet Israel had ever had, but those names had never sullied him…no.
Since the kingdom had been split into two, the northern kingdom had almost no faithful king in its history; each was wicked, leading the people to worship pagan gods, some prided in outdoing their predecessors.
Most of the few devout priests from the tribe of Levi had gone to Judah, and the ones appointed by the king all displayed diverse levels of corruption and ineffectiveness. If no one would make himself of use by The Almighty, then he would fill up that position even if he was alone!
“Bah,” Elijah sighed.
Maybe he was too imposing, in fact he was well aware that he wasn’t Israel’s friendliest, but all that didn’t matter. He knew YHWH, He was the one that turned to ravens unclean birds to care for him, bringing bread and meat every morning and evening and carved out a brook from which he drank from too.
God had given him shelter and when the brook had dried up, the Lord had come again and spoke to him and directed him to live in the village of Zarephath near the city of Sidon.
Why He wanted him to be right under the noses of those who wanted his head, Elijah’s mind didn’t even dwell on for a while; God’s plan was always foolproof.
He had said, “I have instructed a widow there to feed you.”
The old wooden gates creaked, swinging lifelessly with the wind, an atmosphere Zarephath carried effortlessly.
To the side, a tree snapped into two, already shriveled in the drought and fell to the ground, a dry gust of wind floated dried leaves to it almost burying it , and at a distance, the was a woman bent over, gathering arm loads of sticks and laid the on her wood carrier. She stood cautiously at his arrival, eyes running over his appearance; tiredness no doubt etched roughly across his countenance as he approached.
He gestured to her roughly, barely concealing his distaste for the place, “Would you bring me water in a cup?”
At first her gaze turned quizzical, then as though unsure of what to do, she turned around to her satchel, when he called out after her, “Bring me a bite of bread as well.”
This time she approached him in unsure footsteps, “I swear by the God you serve, I do not have a single piece of bread in the house. All I have a handful of flour in the jar, and a little bit of cooking oil left in the bottom of the pot. I was just gathering a few sticks to use cook a meal, probably our last meal, and then my son and I may eat and die.”
Furrowing his brows Elijah considered the woman in front of him. The Lord had said that He would keep a widow at the gate to provide for him right? All he knew was that the Word of God will not fail, he’d had enough reason to trust God and this situation was not going to be any different no matter how contradicting, this woman portrayed herself.
Releasing some of the frown lines on his forehead, he said, “Don’t be afraid, go ahead and do just as you’ve said, but make a little bread for me first. Then use what’s left to prepare a meal for your son and for yourself as well. For this is what the lord God of Israel said, ‘there will always be flour and olive oil left in your jar, until the time the Lord would send rain and the crops would grow again.”
Her breath left her as she fell to her knees. This was him… This was Elijah. His God, the God of Israel had heard and answered her, laughter spilled out of her lips as tears ran freely… He hears!!
Somehow she’d knew she had nodded to him, but all she was aware of now was the sound of her feet against the dried road and its responding greeting against her dress, consciously gripping her son to her bosom, as she ran down the street to the direction of her house, absently aware of the entire bundle of firewood she tugged along with herself. She set her son down once they were through the doors, kissed his flushed confused cheeks loudly and got to work on the prophet’s meal. By the time prophet pushed open the doors, she was carrying out the fresh batch of bread, and hanging it by the window to cool off.
She watched the prophet as he sat down, gazing into the air. From a distance, no one would even drawn to the conclusion that this man was Elijah, the dreaded prophet, in fact he was a bit too shabby looking and had eyes that brought images of clashes of thunders with each piercing gaze. He almost seemed to wear around him an atmosphere as of a storm, waves clashing against rocks and dispelling them, as a matter of fact, he looked as though he was at war with the world and was determined to take it one alone, but she knew better, he had an advantage that rightly placed an authority to that air he carried making it almost impossible to refuse anything he demanded, even the clouds and the entire heavenly bodies readily obeyed him.
From the corner of her eyes, she spied her son crawled and settled at the prophets feet and began tugging his feet, obviously deciding he needed to get acquainted with the new person, she quickly approached to remove him just in case the prophet needed some time to be acquainted with the tiny house, but before she was halfway through, the prophet had her son on his lap and was muttering something to him.
The sweet aroma of cooled baked bread soon filled the room, and she served the prophet, holding her child together, they watched as he knelt to pray. There was no statue in front of him, how did he know his God hears if He wasn’t close by? In fact he stayed silent for a while, and then rose gave thanks to God for the meal, broke the bread and ate from it.
As though just realizing his audience, Elijah lifted his gaze, “You can now make some for yourself and your son.”
She had measured out two cups of flour and was kneading the dough, when she realized… There shall always be flour and olive oil left in your jars until the time the Lord God Almighty, send rain and the crops grow again.
Elijah startled a bit, as the widow knelt before him again,
“Teach us of your God!”
YOU ARE READING
Two Jars
Short Story...maybe it all began when the king had erected an altar to ba'al there in Israel, "To please his queen," he had said, it was going to be a symbol of peace and unity between the two nations and a future to look forward to. Of course that future had...
