Sabbath Devotional :: They That Be With Us

Pieter Bruegal The Elder: The Wedding Dance

Do you know the story of Elisha and the army of angels? Like, the whole story? I’ve been reading through the Old Testament recently for a project my husband and I are working on, and the end of that chapter totally shocked me.

So, there’s an army from neighboring Syria that shows up to attack the prophet Elisha and his humble band of prophet apprentices. Elisha’s servant sees them approaching and is (understandably) terrified. He runs to tell Elisha what’s going on, and is (also understandably) baffled by the prophet’s apparent calm about the situation. Elisha prays the servant might see the ambush more accurately. The servant’s eyes are opened, and he sees concourses of angels present there to protect them. They that be with us are more than they that be with them, Elisha observes powerfully and serenely.

That’s where my knowledge of this story stopped up to a few months ago. I don’t know how I imagined the story ending, but I’m pretty sure I assumed it would be something like the green ghost army in Lord of the Rings rushing in and absolutely obliterating all of the bad guys. But that isn’t what happens.

Elisha prays again, and asks that the approaching army might be blinded. So they are. At which point I anticipated he’d lead them right back to their lands, or maybe to a precipice where he would extract a promise from them that they would never come to this kingdom again. But that isn’t what happens either.

Elisha leads them into the middle of the city of Samaria, the capital of Israel. And there, he asks that their blindness is removed. The army is completely vulnerable and almost certainly terrified, surrounded by an enemy, trapped inside the city with the gates closed behind them.

Shall I smite them, the king of Samaria asks Elisha.

Of course not, Elisha replies. You should feed them.

Elisha suggests bread and water, but the king apparently prepares a feast of “great provisions,” and the armies eat together around the king’s table. An unexpected communion of enemies. Afterward, the Syrian army returns home, and never again attacks the people of Israel.

However I thought this story ended, it wasn’t like this. This isn’t a story of good triumphing over evil as I had supposed. It is a story of good making place for more good, goodness midwifing further goodness into the world.

I think that is actually most of what peacemaking is. It’s an effort to see the situation before us more accurately so we and they can respond better. It’s an attempt to realize that there are angels cheering our efforts to be brave and peaceful, yes, but perhaps more importantly to see the people in front of us as they are. Not as bad guys to be defeated and overcome. But as people full of their own vulnerabilities and fears, passions and loves, trying to do their best in an often inhospitable world.

Seeing our others more accurately, we observe another truth: it is true that there are wars and death and tragedy and crimes and cruelty and suffering. That’s all real. But so is this. Most people want to be good people. There is more love than hate. More caring than indifference. More people for us than against us.

I grant that things will not always look that way. Perhaps this week, you are feeling engulfed in selfishness or injustice. If so, I am sympathetic. I’ve been there. But for myself, I am trying to look again. It’s not that selfishness and injustice aren’t here. But there is something else, too. A street full of terrified neighbors. A legion of golden angels. A communion of enemies. They are all around us, all of the time. God help us to open our eyes to see it.