Advent, day 6. Two Bulls and Two Altars.

Our most familiar and fantastic story of Elijah pits him against 950 prophets of the demon gods, Baal and Asherah. This story is pure legend as we see the stage set for a magical reversal: One triumphs over the masses. Growing up, I pictured it as Elijah's idea: his plan to show the people God in a spectacular way. He issued the challenge, collected the massive audience, and poured roughly 48 gallons of water over a sacrifice which was to be burned, during a drought! "What if God hadn't come through?" I wondered in my childish mind.

Clearly my perspective was skewed by growing up in the 20th C and in a culture of individualism. Elijah was God's man. YHWH wasn't Elijah's God. This was not a prophet-medium-witchdoctor showing what he could conjure spiritual powers to do--which is the basis of all animism. This was a man of integrity aligning himself with whatever God was doing and proceeding to follow orders. Even orders which appeared to be self-sabotage.

Advent day 6, Two Bulls and Two Altars

1 Ki 18:21 “How long will you waver between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow Him; but if Baal is God, follow him.” But the people said nothing.

The day for war in heaven draws us on—

A prophet-mob advancing on the hill.

Alone I stand to serve the Kingdom come

Midst mindless chatter whilst they vaguely mill.

Let heaven speak and Spirit prove the Right:

Choose you a bull and build your altar frame.

Likewise do I and then contest the fight:

Whose god can immolate with heaven’s flame?

Never did a war more peaceful seem:

No swords or spears or javelins did clash.

Upon two altars bloody pieces gleam

As priests incant and importune, self-slash.

It did appear that Baal was unconcerned,

Or out of town, or slightly indisposed. 

Amused, Elijah took the chance to spurn

Their cries, suggesting that he dozed!

From morn to noon the frenzied prophets wailed,

Then into evening sacrifice, they bled.

Their orgiastic antics truly failed

To gain his favour, now they’re full of dread.

The stage was set for heaven’s grand display—

Pervaded by metallic scent of blood.

Twelve massive water jars poured out a flood

And drenched the altar’s sacrifice array.

Such waste of water in a time of drought!

Elijah followed orders—not his plan.

The brimming altar image conjures doubt

And the lonely prophet stands as God’s own man.

“Let it be known today that You are LORD.

And I your servant ONLY You obey.

Please answer my small prayer with your display:

Let no one doubt the power of Your Word.”

A cataract of fire from heaven fell,

Consumed the sacrifice, the woods, the stones,

The altar, water, soil burned like hell—

Deep foreboding seeped into their bones.

“The LORD is God,” with one loud voice they cried,

Falling prostrate on the ground in fear.

To a man, the prophets that day died:

The war in heaven never felt so near.

A day of tension: holy and unholy.
The victor knew himself that he was lowly.