Lesson 6 of 6
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Bible in the World – 2 Kings

Elijah and the chariots of fire

The image of Elijah’s ascension into heaven has embedded itself in the popular mindset. That image is most often incorrect. The following example from the National Gallery of Art is illustrative: in the 18th century, Venetian artist Guiseppe Angeli produced a work that he titled “Elijah Taken Up in a Chariot of Fire” (c. 1740/1755). In it, the disciple Elisha kneels, arms thrown wide, and watches as his mentor is taken up into heaven, seated in a chariot of fire. In reality, that’s not at all what happened in the text. In 2 Kings 2:11, Elisha and Elijah are walking and talking together when they are suddenly separated by supernatural chariots and horses, both made of flame. This fiery divine vanguard is not what transports Elijah; instead, it serves to sever the divine realm from the human realm, safeguarding from the explosive results of what could happen if the two realms were to mix. Elijah is then brought up to heaven by a whirlwind or a storm. In artistic interpretations, Elijah is often placed as riding the chariot instead of the whirlwind.

The reason for this misinterpretation could be that it is easier to imagine Elijah as a passenger in a chariot; it could also be due to the influence of the intertestamental book Sirach. Sirach was a wisdom book, similar in nature to books such as Proverbs or Ecclesiastes. The search for and attainment of wisdom forms the core movement of the book, and it is studded throughout with paeans of praise to God and biblical heroes. In Sirach 48:1-11, one such exultation of praise focuses on Elijah, and v. 9 describes his ascension as follows: “You were taken up by a whirlwind of fire, / in a chariot with horses of fire.” Sirach, then, combines the images, designating all three – whirlwind, chariot, and horses – as Elijah’s mode of transportation. Artists of different kinds have taken up this image in different media, perhaps most famously in the beautiful hymn “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”: “Swing low, sweet chariot / comin’ for to carry me home!”

Film: “Chariots of Fire”

In 1981, a movie called “Chariots of Fire” was produced. The film followed several British Olympic runners from the 1920s. The film’s title phrase, “chariots of fire,” came not directly from the biblical text, but from a William Blake poem called “Jerusalem” or “And did those feet in ancient time”:

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England’s pleasant pastures seen!
And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In England’s green & pleasant Land.

Blake’s reference to “chariots of fire” alludes not to Elijah’s ascension, but to the other biblical reference to flaming war-machines in 2 Kings 6:17. In this chapter, Elisha has consistently thwarted the king of Aram’s plans to attack Israel. Perturbed, the king then shifts his attention directly to Elisha and sends “horses and chariots…and a great army” to surround Dothan (the city where Elisha was living) and seize Elisha (2 Kings 6:14).

Unbeknownst to the moping monarch, the prophet has his own particular brand of protection. In response to his servants’ panic upon seeing the foreign army, Elisha reassures, “Do not be afraid, for there are more with us than there are with them” (v. 16). He then prays for his servants’ eyes to be opened to the reality of their situation: “the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha” (v. 17). Their protection assured, they go on to win the battle in a most unusual – and bloodless – fashion.

Though drawing from this martial imagery, scholars debate whether Blake’s poem was intended as a call-to-arms or as a subversive critique of England and its “dark Satanic mills.” During World War I, a musician named Hubert Parry put the poem to music, and it became an unofficial national anthem for England, whether its original author intended it as such or not.

Elijah in Christian tradition and beyond

Though now considered part and parcel of the same work, the earliest New Testament writers were using the Hebrew Bible (known to Christians as the Old Testament) to interpret events of their own time. Thus the references to Old Testament figures like Elijah in the New Testament could be considered the earliest versions of the “Bible in the World.” All four Gospels refer to Elijah at some point, drawing on the understanding of Elijah as presented in the prophetic book Malachi 4:5: “See, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the LORD comes” (see also Sirach 48:10). These texts speak to a tradition that grew around the figure of Elijah in the intertestamental times. Elijah, according to the tradition, would appear just before the Messiah came to save and restore all of Israel.

This tradition contributed to the prominence of Elijah in the Gospels. John the Baptist is presented as the second Elijah in Matthew 3:4 and Mark 1:6, wearing similar clothes and eating similar foods. Jesus outright calls John “Elijah” in Matthew 11:14. Jesus is mistaken for Elijah in John 1:21, 25. Jesus references Elijah’s ministry to the widow at Zarephath when he preaches in his home synagogue in Luke 4:25-26. Bystanders at the cross mistakenly believe Jesus to be calling for Elijah in his last moments (Matthew 27:47-49; Mark 15:35-36). Finally, in all three of the Synoptic Gospels, Elijah appears with Moses and speaks with Jesus at his Transfiguration (Matthew 17:3-4; Mark 9:4-5; Luke 9:30-33). Elijah’s legacy persisted after New Testament times. In the Orthodox and Roman Catholic tradition, Elijah has been canonized as a saint. Beyond the Christian tradition, Elijah also figures as an important prophet in both Mormonism and Islam.

Elijah in Jewish tradition

Elijah plays a special role in contemporary Jewish tradition. Jewish belief asserts that Elijah will return before the promised Messiah, heralding salvation and ringing in a new age. Because of this special role, Elijah is honored prominently at every Passover meal. Participants place an extra goblet of wine on the table and open their doors, as a symbol of hope that Elijah will come into the world and herald the Messiah’s coming.

Elijah is often lifted up for his zeal and uncompromising passion for God. In Jewish folk tales and rabbinic writings, Elijah appears as a protector and provider for the Jewish people, especially in times of persecution. In a fun and scandalous tale from the fifth century, Elijah appears shape-shifted as a prostitute to rescue Rabbi Meir, a famous rabbi of the second century:

The wildest one is where Rabbi Meir is in trouble with the Romans. His sister-in-law is condemned to spend her life in a Roman brothel, and he rescues her. The Romans put a picture of Rabbi Meir on the gates of Rome that says, “Wanted: Dead or Alive.” But just as the Roman soldiers are about to catch the rabbi, Elijah shows up in the guise of a prostitute and embraces him. The Romans see this and say, “This can’t be Rabbi Meir! He wouldn’t have done that.” So he escapes! (Joseph Dorman, “Who Was Elijah and Why Do Jews Open the Door for Him on Passover?” The Jewish Experience, 2022, brandeis.edu)

Biblical morals for children

In 2 Kings 2, the text presents the fiery description of Elijah’s blazing trip into the heavens. Less well-known are the stories about what happened with his successor, Elisha, at the end of the chapter. In 2 Kings 2:19-25, the newly appointed prophet Elisha performs two miracles. In the first, he purifies a spring of water that had been tainted and unhealthy. This miracle demonstrates that, like his master, Elisha has been gifted with the power of life. In the second “miracle,” Elisha summons two she-bears who tear apart a gang of youths who were harassing him. This “miracle” demonstrates that, like his master, Elisha has also been granted the power of death.

A different interpretation of the she-bear story can be found in the 19th-century children’s illustrated Bible called Tallis’ Illustrated Scripture History for the Improvement of Youth: by the Editor of Sturm’s Family Devotions (Vol. I. New York: John Tallis and Company, 1851). Tallis’ Illustrated Scripture History samples biblical stories, offering a picture and an accompanying one to two page interpretation for each story. The she-bear story is titled “Elisha Mocked by Children.” Instead of lifting up the dangerous divine power that Elisha has been granted, the interpretation takes a moralistic tone: 

The judgments of Heaven are awful. Let the young be slow to laugh at those who, in the course of nature, are doomed to know the infirmities of age. They, if permitted to live, must in time succeed to them; and though the dreadful fate of the children who scorned Elisha may not be theirs, yet bitter reflection and great suffering will overtake those who, in the days of their youth, indulge in heartless insolences to the aged (pp. 167-168). 

The lesson did not catch on. This particular story of Elisha, the she-bears, and the 42 boys, is typically omitted from contemporary children’s Bibles.

“Comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable”

The prophetic call to convict the Israelite leaders and people of their sin was God’s attempt to bring the people back into holy relationship and keep them safe from disaster. Prophets were also called, at times, to bring reassurance and help to God’s people, especially those who were most vulnerable. In modern parlance, an oft-used phrase that captures this dual call is that prophets are called to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” While a neat phrase, the idiom is not biblical. In fact, in its original meaning, it may not be a very accurate phrase to use in reference to prophets, biblical or modern.

The phrase was originally coined by satirical journalist Peter Dunne. In 1902, Dunne saw the overwhelming and comprehensive power of the newspaper institution. Putting this phrase in the mouth of one of his characters, an Irish bartender, Dunne used it to critique the extent, reach, and influence of newspapers in his society:

Th’ newspaper does ivrything f’r us. It runs th’ polis foorce an’ th’ banks, commands th’ milishy, controls th’ ligislachure, baptizes th’ young, marries th’ foolish, comforts th’ afflicted, afflicts th’ comfortable, buries th’ dead an’ roasts thim aftherward. [David Shedden, “Today in Media History”]

Over time, the phrase lost its satirical edge. Lutheran theologian Martin E. Marty applied the phrase to what he called the dual prophetic and priestly roles of the church and civil religion, in which “one comforts the afflicted and the other afflicts the comfortable.” [Martin E. Marty, “Two Kinds of Civil Religion,” pp. 139-157 in American Civil Religion, edited by Russell E. Richey and Donald G. Jones (1974)]. Henceforth, the phrase became employed in earnest, typically with reference to modern-day prophets and to preaching. The irony of its contemporary usage stems from the earnestness with which it is applied. Today, the phrase is used as a genuine description of what officials should do. It originated, however, as a scathing critique of officials’ manipulation of both comfort and affliction to amass and maintain power.

“Own Vine and Fig Tree”

Biblical quotations have long made their way into political presentations and speeches. America’s most famous founding father, George Washington, was known for his love of one particular scriptural phrase, the image of people sitting “under their own vine and their own fig tree” (Daniel Dreisbach in Anglican and Episcopal History 76 [2007]:299-326). The image denotes a people dwelling safely in their homes, secure in their prosperous futures, and without anyone hurting or harassing them. The phrase first appears in Micah 4:4, depicting a beautiful, eschatological vision of peace, in which the whole world is guided by God and no one dwells in fear. It occurs again in 1 Kings 4:25, in a description of the security and prosperity of Solomon’s reign. Finally, it is used in 2 Kings 18:31. There, the chief spokesman of the Assyrian army mocks the Judahite people and their God: “Do not listen to Hezekiah, for thus says the king of Assyria: ‘Make your peace with me and come out to me; then every one of you will eat from your own vine and your own fig tree…’” (This text is replicated almost exactly in Isaiah 36:16.)

For Washington, the image spoke volumes in a time of tremendous tumult. In the face of his own confrontation with an oppressive king, Washington liked to reference this agrarian image. He used the phrase most often in regard to his home on Mount Vernon, his own place of security and prosperity (Dreisbach, 300).There, Washington cultivated the land and pursued a career in agriculture, and there he yearned to return throughout long years of working to establish a country.

Washington did not use the phrase solely in relation to his own prosperity. In a letter to a Jewish congregation in Newport, Rhode Island, in 1790, the president employed the idiom as a sign of support for their right to religious tolerance. He wrote, “May the children of the stock of Abraham who dwell in this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitants—while everyone shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid. The image, for Washington, grew to encompass not only his hopes for himself, but his hopes, in the broadest sense, for the country that was blossoming before his eyes.

The Babylonian Exile in Poetry

In 2 Kings 25, the text describes the devastating and disastrous beginning of the Babylonian Exile in 586 BCE as hopeless:

In the fifth month, on the seventh day of the month—which was the nineteenth year of King Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon—Nebuzaradan, the captain of the bodyguard, a servant of the king of Babylon, came to Jerusalem. 9 He burned the house of the Lord, the king’s house, and all the houses of Jerusalem; every great house he burned down. 10 All the army of the Chaldeans who were with the captain of the guard broke down the walls around Jerusalem. …So Judah went into exile out of its land (2 Kings 25:8-10, 21).

As the people of Judah struggled to articulate their experience, they turned for help to poetry. Psalm 137 depicted their disaster: “By the rivers of Babylon—/ there we sat down, and there we wept / when we remembered Zion” (Psalm 137:1). The book of Lamentations uses poetry to express the devastation of the defeat: “Judah has gone into exile with suffering / and hard servitude; / she lives now among the nations; / and finds no resting place; / her pursuers have all overtaken her / in the midst of her distress” (Lamentations 1:3). 

The image of the Babylonian Exile has become a particular image in Jewish poetry, evoking oppression, refugeeism, nostalgia, and longing for a homeland. From Spain in the 12th century, famous philosopher Yehuda ha-Levi wrote a poem with the lines, “Beautiful view, world’s joy, great monarch’s city, / From the edges of the West my spirit yearns for you. / Deep compassion stirs within me when I remember the East, / Your exiled honor, your plundered abode.” The sense of longing was not always tied to persecution. Instead, the concept of the Babylonian Exile denotes a deep-seated urgency for return, no matter the situation of one’s temporary home. In the 17th century, Shalom Shabazi penned the lines, “The love for Hadassah is bound up in my heart, / But I, deep in exile, my footsteps are sinking.” The original Jerusalemites were allowed to return to their homes in 539 BCE, only to be exiled again in the second century CE. For Jewish people who have spent centuries in diaspora, the Babylonian Exile remains a powerful image to articulate their longing and their experience.

Assyria

Assyria looms large in the biblical text, representing oppressive power and threatening empire. This association between Assyria and empire continued long after the biblical text. In the mid-1800s, European archaeologists rediscovered troves of Assyrian artifacts at various sites in the Middle East, including Nineveh and Nimrud. The colonialist countries imported these artifacts and displayed them in galleries and museums (where many of them remain today). These displays served not only as educational tools for the larger public; they also subtly uplifted the empires of the colonialist age by linking them to great and powerful empires of the past. The ruthless practices and mentalities of ancient nations became justification for colonialist countries firmly in the grip of European Romanticism and its glorification of the past. Ironically, today many Assyrians live in diaspora, having been expelled from their homelands during and after World War I.

In the 20th century, the study of Assyria developed into an academic field in its own right. When Assyrian artifacts were first discovered, they were studied mostly by biblical scholars (in addition to archaeologists). After the cuneiform (ancient Assyrian alphabet and writing style) texts were deciphered, biblical scholars pored over the Assyrian narratives and histories, eager to discover evidence that would support the stories and histories found in the Bible. What they discovered instead was that few events of the biblical texts were even recorded in the Assyrian annals. The ones that were included were given different explanations or interpretations. Omri, for example, the Darth Vader-esque villain of 1 Kings, is lauded in Assyrian texts. For generations, Israel is referred to not by Jacob’s name, but as the “House of Omri.” 

Eventually, the study of Assyrian artifacts broke off from biblical studies to develop into Assyriology, a field independent of its relationship to the biblical text.