Lent Days 23-24: Oil

This morning I read a story I did not remember, from the life and work of the prophet Elisha.
(2 Kings 4:1-7, you can find it here.)

An unnamed widow goes to the prophet-- they seem to know one another, because her late husband belonged to "the company of prophets" (a union? a Bible Study? I must find out more...).

She tells Elisha that someone she is indebted to has come to take her two children-- sons-- as slaves, as repayment of her debts.

Elisha asks the most wonderful question: "What shall I do for you?"

It's so easy to assume we know what people need; it's respectful and kind to simply ask.

He adds, "What do you have in your house?", i.e., what have I got to work with?

She has only some oil.

Oil in scripture:

"Lampkoliwna," Oil lamp, Poland. 

It is used for anointing prophets, priests, and kings.

It lights the lamps that allow for sight in the night.

It is used in cooking, in baking-- oil for cakes, oil for bread, for sustenance.

And then there's that psalm that speaks of people living together in peace and unity:

How very good and pleasant it is
    when kindred live together in unity!
It is like the precious oil on the head,
    running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
    running down over the collar of his robes.  ~Psalm 133:1-2

Oil is valuable. Everyone needs it.

Elisha is about to perform a miracle of abundance.

He tells her to get as many vessels-- containers, jars, find them, borrow them, bring them all in, and shut the door, shutting herself in with her sons, and fill them all with oil.

And she does. She pours and pours. "They (the children) kept bringing vessels to her and she kept pouring."

In the end, her vessel, her original source of oil, does not run out.

This unnamed woman, through the intervention of the prophet, has enough oil for all the anointing and blessing, for all the cakes and bread, for all the lamps that will flicker comfort and vision in the night, for all the oil that will speak to her neighbors of everything that is good, and needed, and holy.

She has just become an oil merchant.

Her sons are safe.

I see her, this very same night as the night of the miracle, the night of her first day as an oil merchant. She tucks the coins-- heavy, a bagful, all that's left over after paying her debt-- beneath the matt where she sleeps.

Then she takes a lamp filled with oil, a lamp glowing and bringing light to her home, and sits with her sons, and sings them to sleep.