In the seventeenth chapter of the first book of Kings we encounter one of the Bible’s greatest prophets. His name is Elijah. Unlike some other prophets in this book of books, we know little about Elijah’s life before he arrives abruptly on the scene. This powerful man enters speaking a word from God. You see: Ahab, the king of Israel, another powerful man, has been unfaithful to his Creator, following in the steps of his father, Omri who, as scripture says “did what was evil in the sight of the Lord, more than all who were before him” (1 Kings 16:25, 30). These two powerful men, king and prophet, will be locked in conflict for the next five chapters. Provoked by Ahab’s actions, God’s anger is given voice by Elijah, who starts their running battle with these words in the first verse of chapter 17: “As the Lord the God of Israel lives, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.”

             Now, what’s interesting is what happens next. After he utters this prophetic word, Elijah is safely guided out of harm’s way by God. After all, it’s dangerous business to threaten a king. He is sent to hide in a wadi, a dry river bed which bears water only when it rains. Did I mention that Elijah had just prophesied a drought? As escape plans go, this one seems a bit strange. “You shall drink from the wadi,” God said, “and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there” (17:4). I did mention what a wadi was, didn’t I? Now, this plan worked for a bit, “but after a while (scripture says, in the verse right before where we started to read) the wadi dried up, because there was no rain in the land” (17:7). I did mention what Elijah prophesied, didn’t I? This powerful prophet was as vulnerable as everyone else.

             This is where we started our reading. Elijah is instructed by the Lord to journey to Zarepheth, to the home of a widow. Now, this is where the story gets really interesting. Zarepheth, you see, lies on the Mediterranean Sea in another country, the nation of Phoenicia. That means this widow to whom Elijah is directed is not an Israelite, a point significant enough that Jesus later remarked on it in his hometown of Nazareth, which almost caused his own death, had it not been for God’s intervening hand (Luke 4:23-28).

             One caution before we proceed. Even though this widow is nameless, she is a real person. A temptation we face in reading this story involving two powerful men, Elijah and Ahab, is to see this woman as mere “window dressing” in the larger saga, a decorated prop to show off the goods inside. Faithful attention to the Bible allows us no such move. As with other characters within these pages, she should not live in our inspirited imagination just to move the plot along, or only to teach some principle. The widow of Zarephath reveals something about God and about us only insomuch as we allow her to be dressed in flesh and blood, and find some common ground with her as a human being touched by the Eternal One, who lives now as then.

             What’s so interesting about this way of beginning the story of Elijah is that it starts out at the margins, connecting with a seemingly insignificant person. Ah! The point is, there are no insignificant people in God’s eyes. King Ahab may get all the press, but it’s a widow who steals the show. It’s for persons like this that God sent Elijah, and it’s from persons like this that Elijah receives his sustenance.

             When we first meet this woman, she and her son are nearly at death’s door. They are only one meal away from their final exit. In fact, she is in the process of preparing their last supper when Elijah arrives. If we do not hear the desperation of her situation, we are not listening to the Word of God. How strange it is to be dying of a drought when the sea is so near you can smell it. Without the rains from heaven, however, the riches of the salty sea are but an illusion. How unfair for someone in no way connected to the corrupt king of a foreign country to suffer because of him. Unfair, yet unfortunately all-too-often the case in this world.

             Elijah asks this widow, whose eyes are set upon her and her son’s departure, their exodus from this world, to share water and bread. Can we grasp what this means for her, we who are rich beyond measure? I’m reminded of an interview I heard this week of an aid worker in a Syrian refugee camp:

“I had a 6-year-old boy who was given our basic kit of food and he just burst into tears at the sight of bread,” she said. “He hadn’t seen bread in five or six months. People have been surviving on rotting rice or dates or a little bit of yogurt. The people have not had access to any kind of safe and clean drinking water in months. People were telling me about drinking water from agricultural wells where dead carcasses were floating about. There’s lack of electricity. This woman was telling me that they were buying bottles of crude oil and putting a date on top of it with a piece of string, and then that’s what they would use for lighting.”

 That describes where this widow lives. And yet, she is persuaded by Elijah to turn from her last supper and prepare him a meal. King Ahab, in all his wealth, was unconvinced by the words of this powerful prophet, yet this woman listened, and gave her last morsel.

             How awful! If you cannot cry “foul!” I will. This is not fair! Would you ask the same of a mother anywhere today who carries a skin-and-bone child in her arms?  My God, why? ... If we are not at the point of asking such a question, of being outraged by the circumstances, then what right have we to be taught anything by this woman from Zarepheth? And yet, at her feet we learn about true hospitality, and we catch a glimpse of a living God who cares about widows, even widows who are not children of Israel.

             This woman’s act of giving, clinging to Elijah’s slim words of promise, result in her and her son’s salvation. The jar of flour and the jar of oil never go empty for the duration of the drought. What a thin thread his promise must have seemed to her at the time, however. Can a man’s word be trusted? Indeed, there is a miracle in this story. But, I ask you - is the miracle that a jar never empties, or that a widow grasps God’s tapestry by the slenderest of strands and does not let go? Regardless, along the way she is woven into the tapestry of God’s story - a real person acting on faith, doing the right thing. In comparison, King Ahab is a weakling.