On Top of Mount Carmel
1 Kings 18:20-39
by Rev. Randy Quinn

This story about Elijah might seem a little “over the top,” but I’m sure it’s happened to you before. I know it’s happened to me! Someone asks me a fairly innocuous question and I respond without thinking, only to realize it was intended as bait. The person asking the question was waiting for me to commit to something so they can argue with me. Has that ever happened to you? The person launches into a diatribe and I’m caught without a good answer.

Sometimes I agree with them, and they don’t know what to say. But I was thinking about those cases where we disagree.

• Sometimes the question had to do with national or state politics.

I’ve heard questions about immigration reform and school funding, for example.

• Sometimes the question had to do with theology.

I’ve been asked about Arminian beliefs and Millennialist positions – and for those who don’t know what those are, you can imagine how much I was caught off guard by their initial comments!

• Other times it had to do with a particular position our church has taken.

I have had people ask about military service and divorce and abortion.

• And sometimes the question was about our church structure.

There have been questions about the itinerant system and appointment making as well as apportionments.

Most of the time, the people are not asking for information to help them make a decision. Rather, they are looking for someone with whom to spar, someone who disagrees with a position they have already taken and want to make a mockery of all other stances.

Each time it has happened I’ve wished I had a 30 second sound-bite or a bumper sticker phrase I could pull out to silence my potential adversary. Unfortunately I’m not very good at thinking on my feet; sometimes I come up with a good response the next day – but that is long after they have left the room.

If I can’t have a show-down like Elijah did, I at least wish I had a thought-provoking response. But more importantly, I want the person who is asking to know that I value their opinion, even if they don’t value or are afraid to listen to mine.

You see, I don’t think that Jesus is a hockey puck; nor is winning theological debates the goal of Christianity. In fact, I’m inclined to agree that there are issues over which we will likely disagree; but that does not necessarily make us enemies of one another. As I’ve said before, in the pew with you today there are likely people with whom you will disagree on any number of topics. It’s part of why I love being a United Methodist.

We don’t give answers; we offer a means and a method of finding answers. Our Book of Resolutions is filled with positions our church has taken – but it is offered, not as an answer book, but a beginning point for making our own decisions.

Now, that is not to suggest that there are not essentials of the Christian faith; in those things we look for ways to be united.

But there are areas where we are free to explore and find different answers. And for those who cannot agree on what we consider essential, the desire is to hold open the conversation, to allow for a loving interaction rather than a bitter debate.

At its best, that’s what takes place at Annual Conference. We explore issues, we discuss them, and we find places of agreement. That isn’t always easy with 700 voices at the table. But this year, we realized it will soon be 2,000 voices at the table! And in order to find the essentials on which we must agree, there have been a lot of conversations – and the talking isn’t over yet!

That, by the way, is what I had been raised to believe was the goal of congressional committees. Maybe my ideals are naïve in that regard. But in an article I read this week, Representative Rick Nolan from Minnesota, now holds the record for the longest lapse between terms. After being gone for 32 years he pointed out how little actually happens now – although it wasn’t always the case. He can remember, for instance, when the purpose was to govern effectively, not to get re-elected.

Today it seems the goal of elected officials is to find the best sound-bite, to find the most compelling argument, to put on a display like Elijah did, a display that makes a mockery of their opponents.

Elijah lived among people who were worshiping and serving false gods.

He could see that his people were heading the wrong direction.

He also thought his was the only voice speaking for God – an assumption he learns later is not at all accurate (1 Kgs. 19:18). That will be the subject of a different sermon, but it is worth noting now because we often feel like we are alone when we enter into these arguments with people who want to pick a fight.

And like the people Elijah was trying to convince, we often want some visible, dramatic proof of our case. That’s why we love this story.

But there is a problem with replicating Elijah’s showdown.

Showdowns don’t solve problems. In the next few chapters we learn that the people still went after their own gods. They still reject the God of Israel. In fact, they persecute Elijah for making them look like the fools!

Jesus was also asked to show signs (see Jn. 2:18 and Lk. 16:31 as examples). And even though he was raised from the dead, there were people who rejected him.

It is no different today.

We can have the best answer. We can have compelling evidence. We can write books and have lots of followers on twitter and facebook. But we will not be able to persuade people to leave the gods they love.

Elijah begins by asking how long the people will “go limping with two different opinions” (1 Kgs. 18:21). The phrase is one that is hard to translate directly into English. It is captured better perhaps in a paraphrase like “how long will you straddle the fence”?

Only this isn’t a battle between competing ideas; it’s a battle for our hearts. The people have been trying to serve both Baal and God, straddling the fence, pining after two different pathways for living.

If we’ve learned nothing from the past decade in congress, we ought to have learned that arguing and debating and finger pointing does not change people’s opinions. It’s just as true that having a slick presentation may get us a job, but it doesn’t help us fall in love with someone.

When I first began thinking about my sermon for today, I was hoping the story of Elijah might offer some helpful ways to respond to people who want to argue with me. In the end, I realized it isn’t about the argument. And no matter how dramatic the proof, the results will probably not change another person.

Neither will pithy little one-liners.

It may make my commitments stronger. It may solidify or clarify my position. It may give me more reasons to stand firm. But it will not change “the other person,” the one who represents another side of the argument – no matter what the issue may be.

Think about it for a moment. When was the last time you changed your mind about something? It doesn’t really matter how big the decision was. What made you change your mind?

My guess is that a big show like Elijah puts on – or more accurately God puts on – was not involved in your change of heart. Such a demonstration only makes me look for the flaws, for the ways Elijah cheated. (Now, I know he didn’t; but emotionally, I know if I were on the “other side” of the argument, this show would not likely change my mind. I would only think I had been tricked.)

No minds were changed that day. No hearts were won over, either.

The only way hearts can be changed is by inviting people into a space where their ideas and their words are welcome, into a relationship where the person knows they are more important than their ideas.

It is a form of hospitality, a spiritual discipline that opens our hearts and our hearths to someone else. It is a discipline many of us have forgotten, but one which I think we would do well to reclaim.

When people invite me into an argument, I find the only way to invite a change is to give them a safe place in which to try on a new idea – not to make a commitment to it, but to see what it feels like. That can only take place in the context of a safe environment, a place where love is more important than ideals, a place where we are not waiting to say “Gotcha” or “I told you so.”

You see, it needs to be a place where it’s also OK to not change our mind.

That is what I mean when I suggest we learn how to practice hospitality.

This week, I want to invite you to try something. Visit someone with whom you know you disagree and ask them to explain their position – without offering a rebuttal. Give them permission to speak without impunity, to provide a sense of hospitality that allows for a different perspective than your own.

That’s all I’m asking you to do. Just listen, listen well enough that perhaps you can try on their position. If you find it doesn’t fit, then leave it there. Listen with your heart, and if invited to do so, speak from your heart. Don’t force them to hear your opinion; but if they invite you to respond simply offer your answer.

I am convinced that repeating a confrontation like Elijah had will not change anyone’s heart – except perhaps our own. You see, on top of Mount Carmel Elijah learned that he was not alone, that God is still God, no matter what other people believed.

Not only is that still true, it is also good news!

Thanks be to God. Amen.