2 Kings 2:1–12, Mark 9:2–9
It’s so hard to say goodbye. Elisha is extending this moment like he’s farewelling a loved one. First he agrees to say goodbye at the house, then abandons that rational plan to drive with them to the airport. At the airport drop off looks busy so they park and he decides to at least wait through booking, okay, why not through security… well at this point you’re in the airport so you may as well wait with them at the gate, parting ways only at the final, final, final call for boarding before walking back through the crowds of happy reunions, ugly crying on your way to pay $42 for parking.
A more somber analogy that came to mind is the Spike Lee film 25th Hour, which centres on the final day in the life of Monty (Edward Norton) before he goes to jail to serve a seven-year sentence. The difficulty of parting ways, of being disappeared from the lives of friends and loved ones is painfully meditated upon – and even at the end, the possibility of a non-goodbye lies on the table, tantalizing the audience who know (in their own ways small and large) the pain of separation.
There’s both beauty and tragedy in the moment of Elijah’s departure – the dazzling, holy flame and wondrous chariots are a sight the likes of which we will never see, and yet, the pain of being separated from someone so significant to our lives that the only thing we would want from them in parting is a double sense of their spirit is something we all will or have experienced.
‘As the Lord lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.’ So repeats Elisha across this journey – and yet, despite his faithfulness and determination, they are indeed parted. There are some who are taken from our lives – be it by death, imprisonment, or other less catagorisable forms of separation. And the pang of that can tear not just our clothes but our hearts in two.
Meditating on the longing and loss of Elisha assists us in approaching what the disciples might have felt during the transfiguration of Jesus.
The scene with Jesus strongly resembles that between Elijah and Elisha (a resemblance made all the more explicit by the presence of Elijah next to Jesus at the moment of his dazzling radiance). The disciples, faithful Jews as they were, would know the Elijah/Elisha story well, and so it is fathomable that in their minds they think this moment is going to end the same way – Jesus taken up to heaven in holy movement. And so, we can read their offer to build dwellings as their own way of seeking to stay a little longer with the one they love. Let us build dwelling places so that ‘As the Lord lives, and as you yourself live, you will not leave us.’
But despite their suggestion, a cloud overshadows and out of that numinous darkness they hear the voice of God. Then, suddenly, they look around and no one is with them any more, but only Jesus… I think it is so striking that it is phrased this way. Rather than “when they looked around they saw Jesus, but the others had gone”, Mark leads off with the absence (no one is there) and this allows us to live a moment in this absence before the conciliatory reassurance that Jesus is there. Because in that moment, that pause, the disciples look and see no one with them, and it appears that they were right in their hunch that they, like Elisha, are about to be left alone, torn asunder from their master and friend. In this moment, the voices of prophets past might sting their ears, ‘Do you know that today the Lord will take your master away from you?’
It is a perfectly reasonable thing to believe has happened – Jesus, their friend and master, Jesus a prophet of Israel, lifted from earth to be spared from death – a fate befitting his wonder and might, befitting this man attested by God. And yet, the story does not end that way. “No one was with them any more, but only Jesus”. Jesus is not taken. Jesus remains. Jesus stays. As the Lord lives, and as they live, Jesus will not leave them.
Instead, Jesus sets off again down the mountain, disciples in tow, back to the crowds. Not taken up to heaven, but journeying back down to earth – to its troubles, squabbles, hurting, forsaking, and death.
Now, those who know their gospels you might be thinking that this point, ‘isn’t this just a prolongment?’ Isn’t this just like Elijah allowing Elisha to walk a little farther down the road with him before the end? Isn’t Jesus still going to ascend to the Father at the end of this story?
I think the key point of emphasis is that the road to the ascension runs through Calvary. The transfiguration event marks the end of the season of Epiphany as we prepare to enter Lent, to enter the 40 days of preparation before the cross of Easter. Jesus is not taken, does not depart, until he has gone all the way through. By that I mean Jesus is not swept out of this mortal realm before tasting the sting of death. Jesus goes all the way with us: swallowed by death, only to defeat it.
In this way, Jesus is Elisha. He is the one who chooses to continue to walk with us always a little further: ‘As the Lord lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.’ That is the word of Jesus’ promise; that is the power of his death. However far we walk, Jesus walks too until the day we are taken by God. And then, given that Jesus is the beloved Son, the Eternal Word, the Second Person of the Trinity – being taken by God is still no departure from Christ – from God to God we go, from God to God we are not left.
That Jesus does not depart on that mountain but instead descends back into the mess of human life, that he descends to the point of death, even death on a cross, that he descends even unto the pits of hell to release its prisoners, that is our good news and hope that we will not be left however far we descend. People can be disappeared into all kinds of prisons, detention centres, and camps, but not Jesus, not he who remains, he who descends. Jesus, our eternal Elisha, tarries with us always a little longer. We do not have to extend the goodbye, clinging to the hem of his garment to remain in his company. Even in the most desolate and lonely places in our lives and societies, even when we are finally laid to rest, when no one is with us anymore, Jesus remains. As the Lord lives, he will not leave you. Amen.
Liam Miller is an ordained Minister of the Word in the Uniting Church in Australia. He currently serves as a New Growth Minister on Darkinjung land/Toukley, NSW. He also hosts the Love Rinse Repeat podcast where he interviews theologians, ministers, artists, activists