It feels like we are living in a whirlwind. War rages half a world away. The climate fluctuates once and again. The economy is hardly stable. ICE wreaks havoc in cities across our nation. Hate rears its head in the form of antisemitism, racism, transphobia, and xenophobia. There is bullying and cyberbullying and Christian nationalism and dishonesty and sometimes it feels too much to bear. 

Do we feel like Joseph? Thrust into a pit, abandoned. Do we feel like Job? Battered and beleaguered. Do we feel like Esther? Staring down evil incarnate, anxious about the future of her people. Do we feel like Jonah? Wanting just to run away once and for all to start over. 

Maybe we feel like Elijah the prophet. In the Book of I Kings we read about the life of Elijah. We read how, trembling and alone, he tries to run from his community and run from God. He walks forty days and nights. We soon find him hiding in a cave in the wilderness. He is worn out and unsure. A figure of faith and conscience, he feels disillusioned by the broken world in which he lives. He sits on his own, in the dark, away from the noise. We understand the temptation to run from it all. We understand how he felt. We so wish we could just close our eyes and have it all go away: the corruption, the commotion, the tension all about us. 

This, at last, is when God comes to Elijah.  

An angel says to Elijah: “Come out…and stand on the mountain before God.”

The text continues: “And lo, God passed by. There was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks by God’s power; but God was not in the wind. After the wind—an earthquake; but God was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake—fire; but God was not in the fire. And after the fire—a still, soft voice.”

There are a few valuable lessons here for us: We cannot hide. We too must “stand on the mountain before God.” God needs our partnership and help in mending the world. God needs our kindness, our compassion, our advocacy, our willingness to live the enduring words of Torah. We do not have the luxury of hiding from it all.

Second, Elijah learns that God does not always speak in a booming oratory. Sometimes God’s presence is indeed in the “still, soft voice.” For us, maybe we find moments of meaning in music, in a precious interaction with a loved one, in a memory we cherish or in a little bit of sunshine. 

Finally, the text reminds us that God is not in the destruction, but rather in our shared willingness to rebuild. God was not in the wind or the earthquake or the fire, but rather in Elijah. God is in each of us too. God is in you. That little spark of hope that you carry, that flicker of faith that will not go out, that is something Divine and real. We are not alone. We are not alone in a cave, as Elijah was. God hears you and your story and your prayers. We have a community that embraces all of us, now and always.