ODD NUMBERS by M. Grace Bernardin

Evansville native M. Grace Bernardin's novel is set in the southern Indiana town of Lamasco, with a metaphysical twist and the innate longing for belonging.

Mike Whicker, author of the bestseller, Invitation to Valhalla, says of ODD NUMBERS: “Touching, clever, and at times delightfully off the wall, Odd Numbers is a gulp of fresh air... Readers will be hard pressed to remain at arm’s length from Vicky, Allison, and Frank, because, after all, they are like us—flawed but hopeful. Odd Numbers is a finely crafted story of the human heart.”

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? [32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B]

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Reading from 1 Kgs 17:10-16
Elijah the prophet went to Zarephath. As he arrived at the entrance of the city, a widow was gathering sticks there; he called out to her, "Please bring me a small cupful of water to drink." She left to get it, and he called out after her, "Please bring along a bit of bread." She answered, "As the LORD, your God, lives, I have nothing baked; there is only a handful of flour in my jar and a little oil in my jug. Just now I was collecting a couple of sticks, to go in and prepare something for myself and my son; when we have eaten it, we shall die." Elijah said to her, "Do not be afraid. Go and do as you propose. But first make me a little cake and bring it to me. Then you can prepare something for yourself and your son. For the LORD, the God of Israel, says, 'The jar of flour shall not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, until the day when the LORD sends rain upon the earth.'" She left and did as Elijah had said. She was able to eat for a year, and he and her son as well; the jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, as the LORD had foretold through Elijah.

HOMILY FOLLOWS
EXCUSE ME? Who exactly does this Jewish Elijah guy think he is? Now, my mother always practices hospitality. Water, yes; but the last of our bread? He can’t be serious! We were down to the last lump of sugar, the final grains of salt, and a handful of flour! My mother tried to explain to him that she had nothing baked; but he said, "Be not afraid. Go make me a little cake and bring it to me.”

What! Was this a joke? That was asking too much!

This unshaven, tattered man appeared and claimed that his God instructed him to make his way here to Zarephath and stay with us, saying that his Lord had appointed my widowed mother to provide for him. Why’d he come to us? Why my mother?

Who is he to her? And who is she to him? But she started giving away all of our stuff to this stranger – even though she just told me we were going to die…
“But it’s all we have,” I pleaded with her, but she repeated the prophet’s words: Be Not Afraid!

I told her there’s no way! It’s impossible! But Not My Mother So you can imagine my disbelief when my mother obeyed him!

She gave it all away to this Elijah simply because he was a prophet of the Most High God! Elijah the Tishbite. I don’t even know any Tishbites. Tishbite, fishbite!
But why would a Jewish prophet be sent to my mother, a poor widow, and a Gentile? Whereas before, my widowed mother had felt as if there was no purpose to life, now my mother’s faith in God’s love and grace was stronger than her fear of death!
My Mother said, “Look, what do we have to lose? We’re hopeless. We’re already good as dead, why not trust the Word of Elijah? God has cared for him so far, so why wouldn’t his God care for us as well? Why not throw caution to the wind and risk all my faith on the Hebrew God?”

I’m still not sure what got into her, but ever since then we’ve had enough food for each day!

Now it wasn’t like we suddenly had a pantry full of a three years supply of food like he just came back from Sam’s Club, but every morning there was just enough oil and meal in the jars for the three of us.

Each day my mother acted in faith to make a cake first for Elijah, and then she would fix a cake for the two of us.

He called it his DAILY BREAD. TRUST ME. I CHECKED THAT JAR EVERY NIGHT. THERE WERE NIGHTS I WENT TO BED convinced THAT there’d be no bread the next day.

But not my mother. She slept in peace, knowing that the same God who had saved us from hunger would do it again. So since Elijah appeared we were living on a prayer, relying on the higher power of the Hebrew God; and I wasn’t sure how to take it.

Now here’s where my story becomes interesting. Elijah told us that he was a fugitive. My mother, the widow, with no support, no rights, was now harboring a criminal, an illegal alien, a Jew among Gentiles. I tried to explain to her the risks involved. “He speaks Hebrew, he doesn’t have a passport or a green card, and he’s wanted by the highest authorities in his homeland. What about roundups! This could become an issue between our two countries” and here we were – me and my widowed mama - right smack dab in the middle of a political situation that would likely make it to FOX and CNN.

My mother didn’t seem to realize the danger she was putting herself in – not to mention me – by trusting in Elijah’s God over our territorial god Baal! I pleaded that her Hospitality was putting us at great risk.

But Not My Mother. She maintained that the risk of not exercising hospitality was far worse! Hospitality is a sacred duty and the sharing of food together established a covenant.

And when the Word of the Lord came to her, she took a leap of faith and risked it all – including arrest and a sentence of death for harboring the Jewish criminal Elijah, plus the added danger of angering Baal and incurring his blazing wrath. Yet she totally surrendered to the Lord of heaven and Earth.
Her Hospitality was borne of trust and gave birth to faith. I would have told old Elijah to take a hike.

But not my mother. She took this hospitality thing seriously. And in offering hospitality to a stranger she received the comforting, reassuring Word of God!
She abandoned her fear of death and the whole notion of death! She trusted that The Lord would provide. She had the certainty of faith that the Lord, the Hebrew God, would provide for her even though she was not a Jew but a resident of Zarapheth, in Sidon, a long-time enemy of Israel, just like Iran or Syria.

My mother put her trust in God and not in her cupboard, not in her pantry, not in her stock options, and not in her portfolio; Elijah said that His God had chosen my mother for the task of welcoming him. The God of the Chosen People chose my Mother, to be one of his chosen people even though she wasn’t one of the chosen people!

She believed even when Elijah asked for the first little cake.

She taught me that the Lord asks of our essence, not simply our surplus. Religious faith isn’t a hobby – it’s a way of being. A covenant with God is a way of life!
So who are the widows and widowers in our midst? Who are those who feel as if God died and left them widowed? Who are those in our midst who feel as if God has left them standing alone at the altar? Who are the widows already in our midst?

We don’t have to look far to recognize our own brokenness and widowhood. What about all the single mothers out there who are basically living a widow’s existence, living from paycheck to paycheck, or no paycheck at all? Those women whose lovers have abandoned them once a child entered the picture? Children without fathers, mothers without husbands, mothers without support from biological fathers; husbands and fathers who are widowed, left behind as single parents. What of those valiant women who never married but have willingly adopted children? Or the faithful women and men who risk all to make room in their lives for strangers? These are the faithful widows and widowers of Zarapheth.

The divorcee, unwed single mothers, or the work-widow - many women know the anxieties, fear, desperation, and busyness of being left alone to care for a home and children – while their husbands are out doing whatever they want with whomever they want. There’s a lot of hurt out there.

Yet just as Elijah called out to my widowed mother, she responded with generous hospitality - and the Lord will not be outdone in generosity!

And I can now confidently say, “Trust in the Lord when all seems hopeless and death imminent! For the jar of flour will not go empty or the jug of oil run dry!”

Trust me – I checked those jars. They were good and empty. But not my mother.
She knew that God would fill those jars every night.

So if we are out gathering sticks and whining how our lives makes no sense, engaging in a pity-party, and a stranger approaches us and asks us for our last loaf of bread, what will our response be? [Pause]

There are times when we all feel that our jar is empty, that we have no more to give, because we feel that there aren’t enough hours in the day to sit down with the Lord so he can fill our emptiness. When Elijah asked for bread, my mother cried out in despair, "As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing left." That's how some of us feel sometimes at the end of a long day – feeling as if God is no longer on our side.

It can be easy to forget that God continues to fill the void, the fears, the disappointments. Some people might even go to bed wishing they’d die in their sleep.
Sometimes it takes a prophet to call us back to faith and trust! Do we miss the prophets in our lives because we think we are being pulled and squeezed from every direction?! My widowed mother had the faith and strength to trust and respond. And she taught me to do the same, though I am not anywhere near where her faith led her.

Yet Elijah’s God calls all of us to be prophets of His Promise!

How will we respond to the Word of God?

Will we be a prophet to someone this week and call him or her to recognize the Lord in his or her life?

Let us pray that we too can be open to those persons that God sends into our lives.

Let us pray for the gift of hospitality and trust.

With trust in God we realize that even when we have nothing to give, God can take our nothingness and transform it into abundant life.