READING:
2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14
 

Taking up the mantle

I wonder what comes to mind when you hear the name Martin Luther King Jr. Most of us know him as a key figure in the American Civil Rights Movement:  a modern prophet of sorts, whose deep Christian faith shaped his vision for justice, nonviolence, and the dignity of all people.

He had a dream!  Not just a speech, but a Spirit-filled commitment to reshaping society with love. His leadership stirred hearts and unsettled systems. He called his country not only to change, but to become kinder, more merciful, more just. And then, in 1968, his life was cut short when he was assassinated. 

It could have ended there. But it didn’t

Others took up the mantle.

John Lewis, a younger leader who had marched with King, stepped into political life and spoke of making “good trouble” for the sake of justice. Coretta Scott King, his widow, became a powerful advocate in her own right. Even years later, people like Barack Obama acknowledged that their path had been shaped by the sacrifices of those before — carrying the weight and promise of the movement, but not merely repeating it. They translated the vision into their own time.

And that idea – taking up the mantle – is at the heart of today’s Old Testament reading.

2 Kings 2 is a richly woven moment. It’s full of loss, transition, holy mystery. It is both intimate and epic. We follow Elijah, the great prophet, and Elisha, his younger companion, as they journey from place to place — Gilgal to Bethel, Bethel to Jericho, Jericho to the Jordan. Every step is steeped in memory: Bethel, the house of God; Jericho, the city of deliverance; the Jordan, the threshold of promise. It’s as if the geography itself is echoing with spiritual inheritance.

And at each stop, Elijah tries to send Elisha away. “Stay here,” he says. But Elisha clings. “I will not leave you.” It’s the language of devotion — reminiscent of Ruth to Naomi. A deep refusal to let go until it is time.

A bold request

Then comes the bold request:
Elisha asks for a double portion of Elijah’s spirit. This isn’t arrogance. It’s the rightful share of a firstborn heir — not to be greater than Elijah, but to be able to carry what is now being entrusted tohim. Elisha isn’t seeking Elijah’s status or fame. He is asking for faith — for the strength to continue the work of God in his generation.
For many churches, this season is when we hold in prayer those preparing for ordination. This story resonates. Because to be ordained, or to take on any public role in the life of faith, is to ask, humbly and tremblingly, for a share in the Spirit that has animated the lives of those who went
before. It is to step forward not in our own strength, but in the generous grace of God who calls.

A mantle for all to carry

But this reflection is not only for those in clerical robes.
All of us – each and every person of faith – is invited to take up the mantle of living out our faith. Not just in words, but in the way we move through the world. Many people may never pick up a Bible, but they will read our lives. But they will observe what kind of people faith makes us.
Do they see joy?
Do they glimpse peace?
Do they sense love?
That is the mantle we are asked to carry: not a perfect legacy, but a living witness. Not a museum piece, but a movement. A way of being in the world that speaks of Christ, even when words fail.

Our challenge

So how do we bear this mantle? Perhaps we need to remember three simple movements:
First, we honour the past — giving thanks for those who walked the path before us, whose prayers, courage and sacrifice brought us here.
Second, we live fully in the present — not repeating the past, but discerning what God is doing now, in our time, in our neighbourhoods, through our lives.
And third, we imagine the future — stepping forward in hope, creativity, and faith, even when the way ahead is unclear.
Because this mantle is not a baton to be handed on untouched. It is something we wear, shape, and reimagine. Some may call it a Being With vocation — not about fixing the world but being deeply present to it. Sharing in its wounds, its beauty, and its longing for justice.

Back to the bible reading

In Elisha’s story, the parting of the Jordan is not triumphant. It’s uncertain. Elijah has gone. Elisha stands alone with the mantle in hand. He strikes the water and asks, trembling: “Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?”
It is the question we all ask at times of transition: Will God meet me here, too? Will God be with me in this new role, in this grief, in this calling?
And the answer comes — not in explanation, but in action: the waters part.

Questions for today

So today, I leave you with two questions:
Who carried the mantle for you?
Who walked ahead, guiding you with their courage and kindness?
And what mantle are you being asked to take up now?
In your family, your community, your church, your life?

Because this story is not just for prophets or ordinands.
It’s for all of us who walk by faith.
All of us who wonder where God is.
All of us who dare to hope that the Spirit might move — even through us.
And so, like Elisha, we ask:
“Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?”
And we discover — in water that parts, in paths that open — God is already there. Amen.