The Widow of Zarephath

by
William Lyons

The city of Zarephath was situated on the sea coast between Tyre and Sidon. It was a beautiful little city. While it did not have a large harbor like the neighboring towns, it did have a small fishing community and a respectable little fish market. It was to this little market that Miriam, the young widow of a fisherman, was making her way.
What she saw when she arrived surprised her greatly. Instead of the dozen or so small brightly colored fish stalls that were normally there; today, there were only three. Her favorite vendor was one of them and she approached his stall. Surprisingly, for so early in the morning, he was cleaning up and closing. "Sir." She inquired respectfully, “ Why do you close so early today?”
Looking up from his tasks the man recognized her as a regular customer and politely replied, “The ships caught almost nothing last night. I had only a few fish worth selling, sadly, they are already sold. I’m sorry.”
Miriam looked at the other stalls and quickly saw that they too were either closed or closing. Looking at the vendor she replied quietly, “Thank you. I see that this is true for all of you.” She paused and then added, “I shall come again tomorrow as the fishing is unlikely to be bad two nights in a row.”
The vendor bowed to her and said with great politeness, “You are very kind.” His tone became sad and he added, “Others have not been so understanding and have railed at us that we simply did not work hard enough.”
She gave the man a sad smile and then replied, “I doubt that is the case. My husband was a fisherman and I know how hard it is to bring in a catch.” She hesitated and then said sadly, “Sometimes the work is very dangerous.”
The vendor got a pained look on his face and said with great kindness, “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten that your husband was a fisherman. That was a bad accident. I lost someone in that wreck too.” He paused and added, “Come early tomorrow. If there is anything, I will try to set back something for you.”
With tears of gratitude in her eyes, Miriam thanked the man and hurried home. Unfortunately, the fishing did not improve. In fact, it got worse. Soon, the fishermen were catching nothing. Then the situation became more serious. The spring crops failed along with the spring rains. There was going to be nothing to eat for anyone this season except for the town’s meager communal grain stores. Miriam was eternally grateful for the small barrel of dried fish and the barrel of meal she had been prompted to buy some time ago.
There was a rumor circulating that the famine had been called down by the God of Israel through his prophet. They said his name was Elijah, sometimes known as Elijah the Tishbite. The more this rumor spread, the more people feared this “Tishbite.” It was rumored that his eyes shot flame and by his very word, people lived or died. There was a great fear of him.
Many fled the area in search of food. They went North to Assyria, South to Egypt, or even (as most of the fishermen did) West to the many fertile islands there. There were reports of people fleeing the famine being slaughtered at the Northern borders, some of the remaining fisherman were lost at sea, and almost nothing was heard from those that fled to Egypt. It was truly a grim time. The town was now a ghost of its former self. The few people that had remained stayed indoors most of the time. These townsfolk, like Miriam, had put aside stores of provisions and still had some food to support their families.
Everyone kept to themselves and extra guards were posted at the gates to prevent bandits from entering the town to steal the small remaining communal food stores. The first months of the famine things went pretty well for the town; but then, the town’s common stores of grain failed. There were wealthy, important people in the town with large private food stores and they were not effected as badly as those with little. These people stayed behind the closed gates of their estate like homes (guarded by well-armed, private guards) and let everyone else fend for themselves.
Some of the rich people were wealthy traders. They owned ships and held lands in the islands to the West. These people took their servants and valuables, packed them in their ships, and left as soon as things became difficult. Others used their ships to buy grain in foreign lands and then sold it to the rich that had remained in the town at exorbitant prices.
There were daily rumors that fish or meal could be had in this place or that, but these were almost always false. The few fishermen that had remained tried daily to provide for the city, but their catches were either very small or nonexistent. Food was becoming extremely scarce.
Miriam had remained busy and had done very well using the stores that she had been prompted to acquire before the famine. One day, she noticed her neighbor was looking awful. She soon discovered that the woman and her baby had not eaten in days. Unable to see this woman (a widow like herself) perish, Miriam took half of what she had and gave it to the woman so that she and her child would survive. It had saved both the woman’s life and that of her child, but it had cut Miriam and her son down to half rations and little hope. Her dried fish had lasted for another month; then, a month after that, she looked into the barrel of meal and was horrified to see that all she had left was enough for one last meal. She looked in the cruse of oil and saw that it, too, was almost gone; but, if she used it sparingly, there was enough to make her and her son one last meal.
With tears in her eyes, she told her son to stay in the house and she went outside the gates of the city to gather a few sticks of wood so that she could make their final meal. While she was doing this, an old man came down the road toward the city. He looked very gaunt and extremely tired. Despite her own plight, she felt sorry for this old man; who had, obviously come to the city looking for food. He would soon find that there was none; or, at least there was none that anyone would share.
While she was distracted thinking about the old man, he had come close to where she was and called to her politely, “Woman may I speak with you?”
Startled, she replied, “Of course, sir.” She left her tiny bundle of sticks and came down to the road where the man stood. Bowing politely she asked, “How my I help you, sir?”
Bowing in return he asked quietly and almost painfully, “Fetch me, I pray you, a little water in a vessel, that I may drink.”
There was such tiredness in the man’s voice that she could not help but respond in the affirmative. “Oh course, sir. Wait here and I will fetch it for you.”
As she turned and began walking toward the well, he stopped her and added almost pleadingly, “Bring me also, I pray you, a morsel of bread in your hand.”
The poor woman was astonished at the request. She thought, “I and my son are about to starve and he requests food of me?” Yet, there was so much pain in the man’s voice that it broke her heart. She replied with much softness and regret in her voice. “As the Lord your God lives, I have not a cake, but a handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse.” She then pointed to the pathetic little pile of sticks that she had gathered and continued. “Behold, I am gathering a few sticks, that I may go in and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.”
The old man simply stood there staring at her for a few moments. She could see pity in the man’s eyes, but he said nothing. Instead, he silently looked up as though to Heaven for some time; then, as though hearing something, he nodded. Looking her in the face once more he said, “Fear not, go and do as you have said; but, make me a little cake first, and bring it unto me. After that, make cakes for you and for your son. For thus the Lord God of Israel says, ‘The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail, until the day that the Lord sends rain upon the earth.’”
Was the man mad? Had hunger gone to his head? How could any man say such a thing? Poor Miriam simply stood there for a few moments and then she came to a decision. Sparse or not, last meal or not, she and her son would share what they had, then all three would simply die. Remembering that he had asked for water she returned to her house and, bringing a small vessel, she went to the well and got the man some water. After that, she led him to her home. Finally, she returned to the field by the road, collected the tiny bundle of sticks she had gathered earlier, and returned to her house.
Sadly, she went to the barrel and scooped out the final bit of meal inside. Then taking a
bowl she poured in the meal, added some water, and some oil from the cruse. Finally she added a bit of salt to the mixture. She laughed as she saw how much salt they had, that container was full! When the baking stone was hot enough she carefully oiled it and poured a small measure of the batter onto it. It sizzled a bit and soon the odor of it could be detected. It smelled wonderful! With tears in her eyes she thought, “How sad this is the last time I shall ever smell this!” After it had finished cooking, she handed it to the old man.
Reverently he took the bread from her. She had expected the old man to grab it and gobble it down. Instead, he surprised her. Taking the cake, he reverently broke it in two. Then looking up as though to Heaven once more, he thanked God for the food and blessed it. Then, and only then, did he begin to eat. Even then, he ate slowly and reverently.
The sight had sobered Miriam. She again heated the stone, oiled it and poured on the thick batter that would be her son’s cake. When it was done she gave it to the lad. He had been watching the old man and instead of tearing into the small cake he too ate very slowly. Finally, for what she felt would be the very last time in her life, she made herself a small cake.
As she broke the cake open to eat it, she hesitated and started to give half of it to her son, but he stopped her. “Mother, I’m full!” He then added happily, “You eat all of that one, Mother. I’m not hungry now.”
She stared at the boy in utter surprise. “Are you sure?”
Nodding vigorously, the boy said, “Yes, Mother, I’m full!
Then she saw the old man smile at the boy and reach out to tousle the lad’s hair. Giggling, the boy turned to his Mother and said, “Go ahead, Mother, eat!” With tears once more in her eyes she ate the cake. To her utter surprise, she too had a full stomach!
Having a full stomach in the midst of a famine tends to mellow ones fears. Looking at the old man she asked, “Have you somewhere to stay tonight?”
“No. Might I stay here?”
“We would be honored.”
With that, they all settled in for the night. Despite all her fears, Miriam slept well that night cuddled up next to her young son. With the morning light came once again the realization that there was no food in the house and starvation was only days away.
She had to force herself to get out of bed. For some strange reason, once she woke up, she went to the meal barrel, took off the lid, and looked in. To her utter amazement, there was meal in the bottom! She replaced the lid and sat down hard on the floor in front of the barrel. Her thoughts were a confused jumble. “Surely I’ve gone mad! I used all the meal last night! But, there’s meal in there! But, . . .!”
Unseen and unheard the old man had come up behind her. He said quietly, “There is meal in the barrel isn’t there.”
She started mightily at the sound of his voice; then recovering, she turned to face him and stammered, “There is, but . . . there can’t be . . .I mean . . .”
He nodded, then, pointing to the cruse, the old man said quietly, “Look there as well, for there will also be oil in the that cruse.”
She did as she was bidden. She picked up the cruse and, the moment that she did so, she knew by the weight that there was oil in the vessel, but she looked into it anyway. Where there should have been nothing, there was now enough oil to make them a single meal once again. Carefully, she set the jar down and turned to face the old man. “How can this be? I used all of the meal and all of the oil for our supper last night!”
“Do you not remember what I told you yesterday?”
“Yesterday?”
“Did I not tell you the words of the Lord? Did he not say, ‘The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail, until the day that the Lord sends rain upon the earth?’”
After thinking hard for a moment she said slowly and in great confusion, “Y- e - s . . . I think I . . . remember you saying something like that, but . . .” At the time she had thought the statement the old man had made was just the product of the addled mind of a starving man, or perhaps, simply a ploy to get a meal. At this point, however, she pointed in great astonishment at the now not empty vessels and stammered, “B . . . b . . . but . . .”
Smiling, the old man put his hand upon her shoulder. He said nothing, but she felt the fear leave her as though it had melted. She did not know why; but, there was something powerful in this old man.
The days passed. Soon the days became weeks; and, the weeks turned into months; but, each and every morning when Miriam looked into the barrel and the cruse, there were meal and oil enough for one more meal. There was also a subtle change in the home. At the beginning, in the evening, when the old man blessed his small cake, Miriam and her son simply watched quietly; but, as time passed, they joined in. After a time, as the prayer was said, they could feel the presence of the Lord in their home. They knew that all would be well with them.
One morning, after several months, Miriam came in from doing some chores to find her son lying on the floor of their home. This was very unusual, as he was a very active lad. Concerned, she ran to him and soon discovered that he was feverish and was having difficulty breathing. Frantically, she bathed him in cold water; but, to no avail. His skin stayed hot and then suddenly he quit breathing. She felt his chest and there was no heartbeat either. Realizing that he was dead, the poor woman began wailing in her grief.
The sound of the woman’s grief brought the old man down from the loft where he stayed. Seeing her and the child, he understood immediately. Softly, he approached her; but, before the man could say anything she angrily turned on him in her grief. This was too much. First the famine and the fear that it brought, now this? All the anguish, pain, and remorse of things present and long past, some of which she had kept bottled up for years, came out in an angry, unfair accusation toward the kindly old man that had seemingly been responsible for her and her son surviving the severe famine of the land. “What have I to do with you, O man of God? Are you come unto me to call my sin to remembrance, and to slay my son?”
Tears came to the eyes of the old man. He understood her grief and the other emotions flooding through her and did not take offense. Instead, he quietly and lovingly said to her, “Give me your son.”
She looked up into his eyes and the anger drained out of her, seeing a pain in his eyes that mirrored the agony she was feeling. She released her hold on the boy and numbly watched as this strange old man took her dead son and went to their loft with him. For a short time all the woman heard was the sound of the old man carrying her son up to his place in the loft. Then, faintly, she heard him say with distress in his voice:
“O Lord my God, have you brought evil upon the widow with whom I sojourn, by slaying her son?” There was silence for a time and then she heard him cry out to God again. “O Lord my God, I pray, let this child's soul come into him again.”
After this, there was silence in the house once again. To her, it was the silence of the tomb. Just as she had begun to force herself to think about burial preparations, the sound of footsteps came from the upper part of the house. In a short time, the man appeared and walking beside him was her son! Pointing to the lad he said, “See, your son lives!”
She was astounded beyond measure and, for a time, could do nothing but weep and gape at her revived son. Then she rushed to the boy and enfolded him in her arms. After a time, and after several failed attempts to speak, she managed to say, “Now by this I know that you are a man of God, and that the word of the Lord in your mouth is truth!”
Several more months passed, and Miriam was at the well with several other women. The famine was, as always, the main topic of conversation. Usually, she ignored it all, made polite comments and left; but, something today caught her attention. She was surprised when one of the women said, “I have heard that this famine was the fault of the King of Israel.”
“Really?” Responded another.
“Yes! They say that a prophet of God cursed the land so that no rain will fall because of things the king and his people did.”
Another woman asked, “What did the king do to this man for doing this?”
“Nothing! He vanished. Everyone in Israel is looking for him.”
One of the other women said, “Is there a reward for finding this foul magician?”
The first replied, “Probably, but who would be fool enough to try and collect it? The man would probably turn anyone trying to earn the reward into stone, or a pig or something!”
There was a general agreement to this rejoinder. Finally Miriam asked, “What is this prophet’s name again? I’ve heard it before, but I have forgotten it?”
Fearfully, (as though the mere mention of his name could bring a curse upon her) one of the women said, “They say that his name is Elijah. Elijah theTishbite.”
Miriam made her way home thoughtfully. Who was this fiery individual? He was supposed to be a man of God, but the more she heard of the man the more fearful of him she became. He seemed more a foul magician to injure so many for the sins of so few.
When she arrived home, she saw a sight that brought tears of joy to her eyes. The old man had made some rings out of the small dried reeds that were along the banks of the (now almost dry) stream near the town. Then, he had driven a couple of sticks into the hard ground of their house’s small dirt court yard. She found her young son quietly giggling and playing ring toss with the old man. “How like him!” She thought. “He is one of the kindest men I’ve ever met.”
That he was a man of God there was no doubt in her mind. Then she thought about this Elijah person in Israel. He was supposed to be a man of God too. If he was, he had to serve another God, not the one this kind old man served. To her mind, this Elijah person served a cruel God like the infernal Baal her people liked to worship. Thinking about that god made her shudder. He was a god of death! He certainly did not give her the wonderful warm feeling this old man’s God gave her. His God was a giver of life, a kind and loving God that fed people, not starved them or cast them into flaming furnaces!
Many more months passed. Finally, one evening as they sat eating quietly, the old man said sadly, “I must leave and return to Israel.”
“You are from Israel?” Miriam asked.
“Yes, I came here after the famine became sore in the land of Israel, but now I must return.”
Very timidly she asked, “Is your God sending you there?”
“Yes. It is time for me to go and do as God commands there.”
With fear in her voice she asked timidly, “What of us? How will we live when you are gone?”
Gently the old man placed his hand on her shoulder and in a very kind and soft voice said, “All will be well with you and your son. Do you not remember the promise God gave you? He promised that if you fed me that your small barrel of meal and your cruse of oil would not fail until the rains came and there was food available once more.” He patted her shoulder and continued, “He has kept that promise for over three years. He will continue to do so; and, he will keep that promise whether I am here or not.”
Tears sprang into her eyes and she felt that warm glow in her breast she had come to associate with this old man’s God, and she knew that what he said was true. Smiling and looking the man in the eyes, she said simply, “Thank you.”
The next morning she awoke early. She had some extra firewood and soon was making a small barley cake. When the old man appeared in the main room of the house, he already had his small pack on his back and would have left had she not stopped him. “Sir, wait a few moments, please. I am making you a cake to take with you. I know it is not much, but you will have something to eat along the way.”
He began to protest, “You have so little. I couldn’t poss --”
“Please?” She begged with tears in her eyes.
Seeing her this way, the old man got tears in his own eyes and said slowly, “As you wish. I would be honored.”
She hurried and finished the cake for him and, after wrapping it in a small cloth, gave it to him. As he turned to go she asked timidly, “Could I know your name, sir? I know it is impolite for a woman to ask such a thing, but . . .”
Instead of being upset, the old man smiled, then coming very close he said quietly, “My name is Elijah. I am Elijah the Tishbite.” Seeing the shock on her face, he smiled and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Still smiling and with a definite twinkle in his eyes, he said quietly, “Don’t believe everything you hear at the well.” In a slightly louder voice, that was filled with an authority she never heard from the priests of her town, he said, “May the blessings of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, rest upon you, your home, and all that dwell here.” Without another word, he turned and walked out of the front door.
She stood in a state of amazement in the doorway of her home staring after the old man for some time. To her surprise, the shock she felt at his disclosure was overpowered by the warm glow of the blessing resting upon her home. She knew in that instant she had known all along who this man was. She also knew now, that if Elijah’s God had cursed the land, it had to have been for a very good reason!
The months passed and the rains came. There were fish again in the waters of the sea and crops were being planted. At the end of the barley harvest, when grain was once more available, Miriam went to the local market place. Soon she was home with a large bag of meal and a jar of oil. When she opened the barrel to store the new meal, she discovered that for the first time in over three years, the barrel of meal was empty.
Miriam was not upset. Instead, she fell upon her knees as she had learned to do from her visitor of the last three years and thanked the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob for all that he had done for her and her son. Then she asked a special blessing on ”the old man.” As that special warmth she had come to know so well spread through her, she knew that all would be well.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 15.03.2010

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