17
Elisha and the Wealthy Woman at Shunem
2 Kings 4:8–37
A prophet intervenes for a wealthy woman with no sons
See page 327 for visitor information.
Where Are We?
Our lookout point is the Hill of Moreh (Givat HaMoreh in Hebrew), which could mean “the hill seen from afar” or “the hill from which one sees.” At a height of 515 meters (1,540 feet) above sea level, we may assume it offered a strategic location on the northern side of the Jezreel Valley. The plain at the foot of the Hill of Moreh served as the campsite of the Midianite army (Judg. 7:1), and the Philistine host assembled on its slopes at Shunem before going to war against King Saul (1 Sam. 28:4). To the south is the Gilboa range, southwest are the Samarian hills, and Afula lies nearby to the west. In the distance to the west you can see Mount Carmel. Just below you is the Arab village of Sulam, known in biblical times as Shunem. The current village was established in the eighteenth century by members of the Zoabi clan from A-Dahi and currently numbers about 2,300 inhabitants. Tel Shunem, the site of the ancient settlement, sits at the northeastern edge of the village. Salvage excavations in recent years have uncovered remains going back as far as the fifteenth century BCE. Today the slopes and the summit of the tel serve as the village’s cemetery.
Fig. 17. Sulam village (Shunem)
Setting the Scene
The spring or water source lay at the heart of many ancient villages; as they developed often churches, synagogues, and mosques were built near the water, at the center of the community. According to local legend, the wealthy woman of Shunem’s home was located behind the mosque on the hill, next to a cave. The cave’s entrance is now blocked but marked by a semicircular wall faced in white stone with an adjacent prayer area. It is a place of quiet meditation for women praying for fertility and hoping to give birth to a baby boy.
The Context
Elisha son of Shaphat was a mild-mannered farmer out plowing his field one day in Abel-mehola when he was approached by the prophet Elijah and informed he would be his successor (1 Kings 19:19–21). Almost without saying good-bye to his family, Elisha left his fields and became Elijah’s devoted disciple, although he remained behind the scenes until the prophet’s dramatic death by the Jordan River seven or eight years later (2 Kings 1:1–15). He subsequently served as the main prophet in Israel for sixty years, from the days of King Jehoram, son of Ahab (851–842 BCE), until the time of King Jehoash, son of Ahaziah (800–784 BCE).
Elisha’s style differed from that of Elijah, who remained aloof from the folk. Elisha was hands-on, a people person. He worked slowly and methodically to restore the faith of the Israelites by traveling around the kingdom and ministering to the commoners. He addressed the concerns of the weakest members of the population such as peasants and women, and by using his prophetic powers he enabled them to empower themselves. For example, in Jericho he purified the poisoned waters of the local spring (2 Kings 2:19–22), and a short while later he provided a bottomless cruse of oil to a destitute widow (2 Kings 4:1–7).
Elisha also intervened in foreign affairs and with kings. When the armies of Israel and Judah found themselves stranded in the desert with no water, he led them to a wadi full of pools (2 Kings 3:9–20). In another example, later on we will read how the prophet cured the commander of the Aramean army of leprosy (2 Kings 5:1–14).
Elisha also assumed leadership of the prophetic bands (bnai nevi’im). The first time these groups are mentioned is in the days of the prophet Samuel. They traveled throughout the land and attempted to root out idolatry by prophesying while accompanying themselves on musical instruments. Elisha made the rounds of these bands, eating with them, helping them, supporting them, teaching them, and performing miracles for them (e.g., 2 Kings 4:38–41; 6:1–7).
When we meet Elisha in this story, he has arrived in the town of Shunem, one of the regular stops on his pastoral circuit.
The Shunem Connection
What is the meaning of this story? In ancient times rabbis and sages used midrash, a method of creative exegesis, to explain biblical passages that were difficult to understand or to draw ancient readers closer to scripture. In order to fill in missing information that would illuminate the Scriptures, the sages expanded on hints, spellings that appeared to be typos, simultaneous events, and possible connections to other stories in the Bible. While classical midrash is always in written form, modern midrash continues the tradition of biblical interpretation using literature, artwork, dance, theater, and music.
Below is a modern midrash that attempts to shed light on the story of Elisha and the Shunammite woman. It grew from a search for hints about the village of Shunem in other Bible stories, which turned up this passage in 1 Kings 1:1:
The Shunammite Woman Speaks—A Modern Midrash
The road to everywhere passes through Shunem. Whether you’re traveling locally or moving between empires, everyone stops here. The town offers the usual basic amenities for wayfarers but most men could care less about their accommodations—they’re too busy loitering at the spring, hoping to catch a glimpse of some Shunem girls. Rare is the visitor who lowers his eyes and keeps to himself.
The women of our town are renowned for their exquisite beauty, a curiosity our men had managed to keep discreet until Abishag. They refused to share us with anyone, but when the king’s men came in search of a beautiful girl to serve him, it was not possible to turn them away. The poor girl was enchanting, cursed with perfection. One could barely behold her without being blinded by her radiance. When they took her away to serve David, she behaved stoically, knowing she represented all of us in Shunem, but inside she was torn apart. No one leaves their clan willingly, especially a tightly knit, protective family such as ours. Once the rest of the world laid eyes on Abishag, the secret of Shunem was out.
I possess the classic features of a Shunem girl: heart-shaped face, honey-colored complexion, emerald eyes, and sumptuous round breasts. Like all my sisters and girl cousins, I was betrothed at a young age and married as soon as I became a woman. My husband was a relative many years older than I. My parents, who were very wealthy, wanted me to marry him. Thanks to the inheritance I received from them, I have been spared the backbreaking daily efforts required to care for my family. I have servants to cook, wash, and toil, enabling me to preserve my beauty. My sole task over the years has been to produce children, but our house bore the terrible curse that so many families in every generation are marked by in Shunem. Nine little ones I brought into the world, but only the girls survived. Six baby boys were snatched from me before they were old enough to take their first steps. I tried hard not to grow attached to them in their first months, but my efforts were to no avail. Each child’s passing brought me deeper and deeper into a private desolation from which no soul could rescue me. My husband continued to demand an heir, but eventually he too became so broken that we agreed to put an end to our efforts. Although our three daughters brought us great joy and all were married off to kind, upstanding men, our empty house was filled with echoes of the lost little boys that only seemed to grow louder by the day.
It was perhaps with the intent of disturbing the deafening silence in our home that I invited the holy man for a meal. It was known that he had been with the great prophet Elijah when he miraculously ascended to the heavens, and stories had reached us from the prophetic bands in the valley regarding miracles he had performed in such places as Jericho and the Jordan River. He passed through Shunem frequently on his rounds between the mystical groups and what impressed me most about him was his modest demeanor. While the other men were gaping and leering at our girls, he avoided any interaction with them. In the privacy of our home, he succeeded in expressing his gracious appreciation for our nourishment without ever actually speaking to me directly, yet without giving offense. On the contrary—his calming presence filled the room the moment he entered it, even though we never made eye contact with each other. I found myself looking forward to his visits and ensured he would always feel comfortable with us.
I was so grateful for the solace he brought that it never occurred to me to ask him for something in return—certainly not a son. I had come full circle in that I no longer desired a baby boy, knowing full well the agony that would accompany him, and in retrospect the prophet should have known this. Yet he was intent on rewarding us somehow, and it was his servant, Gehazi the meddler, who raised the idea of a son. He always seemed to be snooping around, gossiping with the servants about how much this cost and how much that cost. It was he who poked and prodded, until the source of our agony was revealed to him.
At first I resisted, but then I acquiesced. I feared a scandal, but the holy man assured me that the miracle would be received with great joy by everyone. His essence penetrated to the deepest recesses of my being, and I had complete faith in his power. Just as he predicted, it was not long before I was with child. Miraculously, he was born healthy. Our joy was indescribable.
The day they brought my son to me, pale and barely breathing, I was sure I could heal him through my embrace. This child did not bear the curse of the others, and it seemed unfathomable that he, too, could be taken from us. When he ceased to exhale, I could not bear to tell my husband that our son was dead—I knew he would not survive the telling. I hid the boy’s body in the prophet’s room and left in a panic. I arrived at Mount Carmel in great distress, demanding to see the prophet. The cad Gehazi attempted to restrain me by wrapping his arms around me very inappropriately, but my shrieks brought the holy man out immediately.
Yet when the prophet realized that the Lord had hidden my son’s death from him, he still did not understand our transgression. He attempted to transfer his power to his staff and invest it in his servant. I knew it was a grave error on his part, and I begged him to take personal responsibility for all that had gone wrong. It was only when he arrived at the upstairs room and saw the boy laid out, lifeless, on his very own bed, that he understood the limitations of his power.
Looking back on those extraordinary days, I now understand where we erred. I was convinced that my healthy son’s birth was the prophet’s gift to me. I was so captivated by him that I very nearly worshipped him, instead of the Lord. I forgot that he was merely the conduit for the Lord’s power, and not the very source of it. He was even more at fault for not redirecting my misguided adoration. As a result we were punished.
But thank heaven, the Lord is a merciful God. It was he who gave the prophet the strength to revive my son. Together we prayed with greater intention than ever before, he inside the upstairs room where my son lay and I outside the door, as the color returned to the child’s ashen skin, as his body warmed and his eyelashes fluttered. With each convulsive sneeze we begged for him to remain with us, and the Lord answered our prayers. It is the Lord who takes away, and the Lord who gives.
Postscript: Modern Medical Miracles for Mothers in Israel
The Shunammite woman was exceptional in her resignation over her lack of sons, perhaps because she was wealthy and her future was economically secure. However, the concern of Gehazi and Elisha raised by the absence of boys in her family hints at one of the broader themes woven through the biblical narrative—the tremendous importance of having children. While sons were the ones to carry on the family name, inherit property, and take care of their parents in old age, families were considered blessed if they had children, both boys and girls. A woman who could not conceive was a tragic figure.
Modern Israeli society has been similarly preoccupied with having babies since its inception. In the state’s early years families were encouraged to bring lots of children into the world in order to strengthen the burgeoning country and recover the losses of the Holocaust. David Ben Gurion, Israel’s first prime minister, even established a special award to recognize women who had given birth to ten children.
While the average Israeli family today is considerably smaller, having children is still a priority. In fact, the state views the right of a woman to bear children as inalienable. Therefore, it fully underwrites the cost of in vitro fertilization for two live births for Israeli female citizens of all faiths, whether they are married, single, or lesbian couples. Not surprisingly, Israel leads the world in IVF procedures per capita; about 4 percent of babies born in Israel were conceived through IVF, as opposed to about 1 percent in the United States, and thanks to the high success rate many women from abroad with fertility issues come to Israel for treatment. Israeli scientists and doctors are at the forefront of research and technologies that will enable all women who wish to conceive to bring a child into the world.
In a newly developing trend, Israel has recently emerged as the world capital for babies born by surrogacy to gay male couples. It seems that parenthood may be a key to mainstream acceptance for Israeli homosexuals, probably because Israel is a deeply family-oriented society. The unique combination of ancient tradition, existential anxiety, and passion for children has placed the family squarely at the center of modern Israeli culture.