Elijah's Alleged Megalomania: Reading Strategies for Composite Texts,with 1 Kings 19 as an Example *

1. Introduction

Modern literary readings of prophetic narratives in the book of Kings have not been kind to poor Elijah. They exhibit the tendency to question his good character and undermine his reputation as a faithful servant of Yahweh. In a pioneering study, completed over twenty years ago, Hauser and Gregory argued that in the course of the narrative in 1 Kings 17–19 Elijah is gradually ‘unmasked’ as a prophet ‘plagued by his own ego and exaggerated importance’, ¹ and portrayed as a ‘faithless and, therefore, fearful man’. ² He is ‘not who he seems to be or who he ought to be for Yahweh's sake … [He is] a mixture of faith and doubt, pride and conceit.’ ³ In the same year Carroll evaluated Elijah's presentation in Kings ‘as a sharp, ironic critique of prophets … both instructive and humorous’. ⁴ Subsequent publications have more or less followed suit and interpreted the Elijah narratives in Kings as presenting us with a critical or at least ambiguous portrayal of this prophetic figure. ⁵ According to Kissling, Elijah is not a reliable representative of the narrator's perspective as his insubordination to Yahweh is quite often motivated by a desire to serve his own interests and promote himself. ⁶ Olley finds his overzealousness problematic ⁷ and Glover suggests that ‘the narrative conducts a subtle attack’ on Elijah by showing how he disobeys divine instructions and by means of unfavourable comparisons with other characters in the story. ⁸ In the present article I will re-examine the validity of such readings and argue that they are illegitimate interpretations of the final form of the text. My primary interest, however, is not so much in confirming or rejecting this negative portrayal of Elijah but in using him as a test case in order to explore a larger methodological question, namely in what way the appreciation of the composite nature of the biblical text must impact final-form narrative readings.

2. The Selfish Prophet Elijah: Narrative Readings of 1 Kings 19

Whilst Elijah's flaws, according to narrative critics, are evident to a lesser or greater degree throughout the whole narrative, they come clearly to the fore in ch. 19. The reader is immediately faced with the problem of understanding Elijah's sudden fear (19.3) ⁹ and flight after hearing Jezebel's threat (19.1–3). Only a few verses earlier Elijah achieves a remarkable victory on Mt Carmel, bringing fire down from heaven with a simple prayer and slaughtering Baal's prophets. The people of Israel convert to Yahweh and confess that he alone is God (18.39). Against this background it is difficult to make sense of Elijah's reactions. Why, after such a remarkable achievement, does the fearless prophet leave everything behind and run for his life, an action which may signify an intent to abandon his prophetic ministry? ¹⁰ He does not wait for instructions from Yahweh who has already protected him from danger (17.2–6), nor does he defiantly face Jezebel in the same way he faced Ahab earlier (18.18–20). All this indicates that he does not really trust Yahweh to protect him. ¹¹ ‘Ironically, fear, not fidelity to the Lord, governs Elijah's actions in this story’, ¹² and this fear shows his assumed bravery in the preceding chapters to have been more of a posture than reality. ¹³

Many literary critics see the events transpiring on Mt Horeb as contributing further to this initial negative portrayal of Elijah. In his dialogue with Yahweh the prophet's arrogance and selfishness is made evident. His words focus on his own uniqueness and importance ignoring virtually everybody else. He is the only defender of the Yahwistic faith, he is the only true prophet of God left, everybody else has sunk into apostasy (19.10, 14). The reader knows full well that this is not entirely true, and so should Elijah. Obadiah has informed him that there are a hundred prophets, hidden in a cave, who survived Jezebel's persecution (18.4, 13). ¹⁴ Elijah chooses to forget this because he is focused solely on the importance of his own person and mission. Nothing else matters to him. Elijah's words, therefore, betray his distorted perspective, which allows only for his own personality and work to be taken into account. ¹⁵ He refuses to change this perspective even after an initial divine encounter (19.11–13). His second reply to Yahweh (19.14) is an exact repetition of the first, showing there is no change in his attitude. It is a ‘blunt and proud’ reply, a revelation of his ‘inflexibility and ego-centrism’, ¹⁶ and ‘closed-minded self-righteousness’. ¹⁷

His complaint against the evil Israelites who had killed Yahweh's prophets, destroyed his altars, and are now seeking Elijah's life (19.10, 14) is also problematic. According to 19.1–3 it is Jezebel, not the Israelites, who seeks the prophet's life—yet she is not even mentioned in the exchange between God and his prophet. Israel, so far as we know, has turned to Yahweh at the end of ch. 18 and is now supportive of Elijah. And yet Israel's conversion is completely ignored by the prophet. It is as if the grand victory on Mt Carmel never took place. Kissling explains Elijah's failure to mention Jezebel with the supposition that he does not want to admit his fear of her and take responsibility for it. For this reason he never confronts her in the following chapters, thereby demonstrating that there is no real, fundamental change in his character. ¹⁸ According to Walsh, Elijah's accusations against the people ‘reveal more about him than about them’, as they show his cynicism, egoism, and cast his despair in the beginning of the chapter in a negative light. ¹⁹

A third problem arises from the way Elijah carries out the instructions he receives from Yahweh on the mountain. He is commissioned to go and anoint three people: Jehu as king over Israel, Hazael as king over Damascus, and Elisha as prophet in Elijah's stead (19.15–17). These instructions seem to imply an end to Elijah's ministry. ²⁰ The tasks he gets on Mount Horeb relate to appointing successors who will finish Elijah's job of eradicating Baal worship. However, in the following narratives Elijah does nothing of the sort. He never even comes close to Jehu or Hazael and it falls to Elisha to make arrangements for the two rebels to be anointed as kings over their respective kingdoms (2 Kgs 8.7–13; 9.1–3). The only part of Yahweh's commission that Elijah takes care of is the appointment of Elisha (1 Kgs 19.19–21). However, even this is not done in a proper and faithful manner. Elijah never actually anoints Elisha, and instead of appointing Elisha to replace him Elijah simply takes him on as a servant. In the following chapters (1 Kgs 21; 2 Kgs 1), Elisha mysteriously disappears and Elijah continues to exercise his prophetic ministry. These actions suggest to a number of interpreters that Elijah actually disobeys Yahweh's commands. ²¹ He is invited by Yahweh to ‘step aside’ but refuses to follow the divine command and continues to act as a prophet for some time.

Thus, when 1 Kings 19 is read synchronically together with what precedes and follows it, a very unflattering portrait of Elijah begins to emerge. He is a prophet who does not trust Yahweh unreservedly and does not care much about carrying out the divine will. He follows instructions only when it suits him. His main concern is establishing his own importance in the eyes of everybody else and his sole focus is on his own role in the grand scheme of things. Arrogant, disobedient and self-centred, Elijah comes before us as the very opposite of what a true servant of Yahweh is expected to be.

There are, however, serious problems with this reading. First, it is surprising that there is not a single word of explicit narratorial critique of Elijah. One expects that at some point Yahweh, or the narrator, would openly communicate disapproval of Elijah's many ethical and spiritual failures, but divine displeasure or anger is not reported anywhere in the narrative (contrast Exod. 4.14 or 2 Sam. 11.27). Moreover, Elijah's acts of disobedience do not result in judgment of him. This is all the more striking bearing in mind that within the narrative world of Kings disobedient prophets are usually eaten up by lions (1 Kgs 13.21–24; 20.36), or struck with leprosy (2 Kgs 5.26–27). Not so with Elijah. After being allegedly decommissioned in 19.15–17, he is entrusted with a message of judgment to King Ahab (1 Kgs 21.17–19) and with another one for Ahab's son Ahaziah (2 Kgs 1.3) ²² before being finally taken up into heaven by a chariot of fire (2 Kgs 2), a turn of events which, as Olley is forced to admit, is a ‘stirring narrative endorsement of his [Elijah's] ministry’. ²³ The final form of the text, therefore, suggests that Elijah enjoys divine approval throughout his career and is presented in basically positive light by the narrator.

Moreover, some of Elijah's seemingly dubious statements are explicitly endorsed by Yahweh, which would suggest they are endorsed by the narrator as well. So, for example, when Elijah complains that Israel has forsaken the covenant and killed the prophets (19.10, 14), Yahweh does not rebuke him by pointing to the Carmel conversion of the nation (18.39). Instead, Yahweh responds with a command to appoint three individuals who will bring death by the sword (19.15–17), a command which in effect is a word of judgment against Israel. ²⁴ This suggests he agrees with Elijah's estimation of Israel's religious stance and leads the implied reader to read the complaint of 19.10, 14 as relaying reliable information. This would be even more true for the second-time reader of Kings who already knows that Israel's ultimate fate is going to be exile and destruction because it has forsaken the covenant and turned its back on Yahweh (2 Kgs 17.13–15). When Elijah's accusations in 19.10, 14 are read with 2 Kings 17 in mind, the words of the prophet appear neither unreasonable, nor untrue. They are in line with the overall message of the book of Kings and, together with Yahweh's response in 19.15–18, prepare the reader for the things to come, both in the immediate and the distant future.

It seems, therefore, that literary readings of these prophetic narratives produce contradictory results. Close attention to the details of Elijah's portrayal, especially in ch. 19, creates the impression of a disobedient and selfish prophet, but at the same time the larger literary context undermines and invalidates this impression because it suggests that the narrator's overall estimation of Elijah's person and activities is positive. ²⁵

3. The History of the Text and its Impact on Interpretation

The unconvincing interpretation of Elijah's character which emerges from the literary readings discussed above points to a fundamental weakness in the way narrative criticism is sometimes practised today. The Elijah cycle is implicitly approached as a text written out of whole cloth to satisfy the aesthetic desires of a modern audience. Yet what we have before us is not a modern novel but an ancient composition created over time out of various pre-existing traditions in order to address the religious questions facing Judeans living in exilic and post-exilic times. Critical scholars are generally agreed that 1 Kings 19 probably began its existence as an independent unit which was only subsequently reworked and incorporated into its present context. ²⁶ What this tradition initially looked like is difficult, if not impossible, to know. Steck thinks it was a short fragment dealing with Elijah's sense of failure and his desire to die in the wilderness (19.3–6*); ²⁷ Fohrer is of the opinion the narrative was about Elijah's encounter with Yahweh at Mt Horeb (vv. 3b, 8–13*); ²⁸ while Hentschel ascribes both the wilderness and the Horeb incidents to the original story (vv. 3a–9a, 11b–15a, 18). ²⁹ According to Lehnart the story depicted Elijah's expectation to die, his support through a messenger of Yahweh, his journey from Beersheba to Horeb (vv. 3–6*, 8), the theophany on the mountain (vv. 9*, 11*, 13*, 15*), and the call of Elisha (vv. 19–21). ³⁰ Beck argues for the unity of 19.3–18, ³¹ and Jones suggests three different independent traditions (vv. 3b–6, vv. 9–10 plus vv. 15–18, and vv. 19–21). ³² The grounds for those redactional conclusions are some of the same difficulties in the text which lead narrative critics to describe Elijah as selfish and faithless. For example, Elijah's failure to mention Jezebel and his accusations against the Israelites in 19.10, 14 are seen to be an indication of the independence of the original tradition behind ch. 19 from 18.20–40 and of the redactional nature of 19.1–3a, ³³ not subtle hints about Elijah's insecurity and megalomania.

The modern reader, therefore, is faced with a dilemma posed by the existence of different critical methodologies for dealing with the tensions in the text. These can be seen either as pointers to the compositional history of the narrative or as literary devices employed by the skilful artist who produced it. The challenge is to decide which explanation, a redactional or a literary one, is more likely in this case. It is possible to avoid the dilemma altogether if one decides as a matter of principle to work within the confines of a single paradigm, either a diachronic or a synchronic one. This, however, is unwise—all possibilities should be considered if one is to do justice both to the ancient origins and the artistic beauty of the text. As the Elijah narratives show, it is also dangerous to narrow in advance one's options too much. The positive overall estimation of Elijah makes it unlikely that the observed tensions are meant to function as literary devices with a subtle message about a disobedient and selfish prophet. They make more sense as being simply the by-products of the compositional history of the text. In this case, disregarding from the start all possible diachronic explanations may lead to distorted readings of the text.

The question whether the pre-history of the text matters at all in a final-form reading is admittedly debatable. By the very act of putting different traditions together the redactor has created a new literary work which needs to be interpreted on its own terms. This new composition transforms the pre-existing materials and they take on new meanings as parts of the larger whole. In other words, it could very well be argued that whatever diachronic explanations there are for certain features of the text, these become ultimately irrelevant at the last stage of the composition. Once a final-form perspective is adopted, the only question we need to be asking ourselves is ‘What function do they perform now as part of the finished narrative?’ Redactional analysis may explain the origin of a certain textual feature but narrative criticism will elucidate its current literary function. ³⁴ This is true so far as it goes, but taken to an extreme it becomes unhelpful. There is always the possibility that some textual features crept in by accident and were never meant to perform any function at all.

A modern-day example from the film industry might make this point clearer. Admirers of Peter Jackson's film adaptations of J.R.R. Tolkien's novels might be aware of the fact that in The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (released in 2002) and The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (released in 2012) we have two different versions of the same event: the occasion when Bilbo Baggins finds the ring and takes it from Gollum. ³⁵ There is, however, an irreconcilable discrepancy between them: it is not at all clear how old Bilbo is when he first finds the ring. He looks 111 years old in the Lord of the Rings version (2002) of the event but only 50 years old in the Hobbit's version (2012). One could arguably find a synchronic explanation for this discrepancy. For example, the decision to present Bilbo as both old and young may be the director's subtle way of pointing out the degenerative effects of the ring. Whilst in ‘reality’ Bilbo is only 50 when he meets Gollum (as shown in The Hobbit), by stealing the ring he sets his foot on a path of degradation, the inevitable fate of all ring-bearers, and so he is also symbolically presented to the audience as old and wrinkled in the Lord of the Rings version of this event. It is safe to say that most modern viewers will find such an explanation ridiculous and unhelpful because they would immediately recognize the real reason for such a ‘tension’. The two films were shot ten years apart and Bilbo is played by two different actors. When producing a film it is very difficult to know which actor is going to play the ‘younger version’ of a given character in a follow-up movie which may or may not be produced ten years down the line. Viewers are aware of this and are unlikely to attribute a lot of significance to the discrepancy. The point is that the intended audience inevitably has some general knowledge of the circumstances of production of a work and this at times may impact the way various details are understood. A contradiction will be happily overlooked if it is generally believed that it owes its origin to circumstances external to the work in question.

In the same way one may surmise that the original readership of biblical narratives would have been aware of the composite nature of these texts and would have utilized reading strategies which take this peculiar feature into consideration. ³⁶ As a result, tensions stemming from the combination of different traditions may need to be overlooked if there is no sufficient reason to suspect that they are invested with significance by the final redactor. Likewise, gaps may need to remain just gaps and not be converted into invitations to unleash one's interpretative imagination. The problem with some readings of the Elijah cycle is that they seem to be based to a large degree on the significance attributed to tensions and the particular way some of the gaps in the narrative are filled. Attention is drawn to subtle hints, and pointers to a new meaning which is never expressly stated but always hidden and implied. Yet if tensions are meant to be ignored and gaps left untouched, the narrative suddenly takes on a very different shape. There is thus the danger of becoming excessively subtle and ending up with interpretations quite different to what the text taken at face value seems to say. ³⁷ An appreiation of the composite nature of the text can serve as one safeguard against such dangers.

It would be fair to acknowledge that many literary critics affirm the reality of the text's prehistory ³⁸ and the legitimacy and usefulness of diachronic approaches to interpretation. ³⁹ Robert Alter uses the image of ‘multidimensional purposeful patchworks’ to describe the text of the Hebrew Bible because this image ‘admirably preserves the sense of the bumpiness of the biblical text, its repeated use of disparate materials, which should be apparent to any careful analyst working with the original Hebrew’. ⁴⁰ A few sentences later he hastens to add that he is ‘also repeatedly impressed by the evidence in many instances of a strong synthesizing imagination that has succeeded in making once disparate voices elements of a complex, persuasively integrated literary whole’. ⁴¹ Whilst from a theoretical point of view this is sound enough, its practical significance is limited because the prehistory of the text is rarely allowed to influence and shape final-form narrative readings. When it comes to the interpretative task it seems that the ‘synthesizing imagination’ of the final author/redactor is all that matters. So, for example, Hauser states:

This is an assumption in need of qualification. There is no question that the stories in 1 Kings 17–19 are brought together with considerable artistic skill. However, it does not necessarily follow that the ‘synthesizing imagination’ of the final editor completely obliterated the contours and thrust of the sources s/he used. One has to reckon with the possibility that sources were sometimes incorporated more or less intact, or that at least they can still be vaguely detected behind the finished product in some cases. ⁴³ Redactional creativity and preservation of traditions may go hand in hand. The issue should not be decided in advance, and both synchronic and diachronic explanations should be kept as live options in the process of interpretation.

4. Putting Theory into Practice: Reading 1 Kings 19 as a Composite Text

In what follows, I want to explore how an awareness of the composite nature of the text may impact its interpretation, with the help of two examples from 1 Kings 19. The first has to do with Elijah's apparent failure to follow Yahweh's instructions in 19.15–17 to the letter. Many critics see this as an instance of Elijah ignoring Yahweh's instructions and putting his interests first, but this reading does not work well, as argued above. If Elijah is indeed as flagrantly disobedient as suggested, it is not easy to explain why he is never explicitly censured, why he continues to be used by Yahweh, and why he is afforded the honour of being taken up into heaven in 2 Kings 2. Dharamraj attempts to provide a different narrative justification for this oddity by arguing that ‘Elijah is privileged with the responsibility of planning and executing’ the tasks of anointing the two future kings and the only reason he does not personally see to their completion in his lifetime is ‘because the expedient moment does not arrive’. ⁴⁴ This is highly unconvincing because it is speculative and again requires a lot to be read into the text. Nothing in Yahweh's speech in 19.15–17 suggests that Elijah is privileged with planning responsibilities. We are not told how, when, and why he passed on his tasks to Elisha, and there is no sufficient basis on which to argue that the ‘expedient moment’ never came during his lifetime. All these inferences seem to be necessitated by the prior assumption that the text of Kings needs to be read as a completely harmonious whole in which all the details have their own narrative significance and explanation. ⁴⁵ There seem to be no good literary explanations for this phenomenon.

The most sensible course of action is to recognise that such discrepancies result from the compositional history of the text. Chapters 17–19 have a separate pre-history to the rest of the Elijah and Elisha narratives and are still in some way semi-independent from them. They are to be read on their own and connected only very loosely to what takes place later on. They do not invite us to read them as a continuous ‘biography’ of a heroic individual but rather as varying pictures of prophetic ministry aimed to illuminate Yahweh's interactions with his people Israel. Their interrelationship is to be compared not to the subsequent chapters of a modern novel but to works of art hanging on the walls of the same gallery. They are placed alongside each other and treat similar topics but the viewer must leave one before moving on to look at another. Seen from this perspective, the question why Elijah is still delivering prophetic oracles in 1 Kgs 21.17–19 when he was decommissioned back in 1 Kgs 19.15–17 does not arise at all. Awareness of the compositional nature of the narrative prevents the reader from expending unnecessary energy in pursuing questions in which the text has no interest and has no intention of addressing.

The second example relates to the tension between Elijah's accusations against Israel in 19.10, 14, on one hand, and the people's conversion to Yahweh in 18.39, on the other, as well as the stark change in Elijah's confidence in 19.3 in comparison to the fearless determination displayed throughout ch. 18. DeVries attempts to ignore the problem completely by appealing to the compositional history of the text:

However, even those who ‘recognize the original independence of these passages’ need to ask themselves what the final editor was trying to achieve by linking them together with the help of 19.1–3a. In contrast to the loose connection between 1 Kgs 19.15–17 and the following Elijah material, which allows the reader to ignore the discrepancies between them more easily, the link between chs. 18 and 19 is very tight. The reader is asked to understand them as part of a single story depicting a sequence of events following closely one after the other. The narrative could have placed Jezebel's threat to Elijah ‘after many days’ and thus avoided the difficulty, but it does not. On the contrary, the impression is that as soon as Ahab gets to Jezreel he informs Jezebel of what has transpired on Mt Carmel, and as soon as Jezebel hears this she issues her threat to Elijah, and as soon as Elijah hears it he runs away. It all probably takes place in a single day (see the reference to ‘tomorrow’ in 19.2). ⁴⁷ Thus, whilst the text's pre-history may account for the discrepancies between 19.4–18 and 18.20–40, it does not explain the redactor's strategy in 19.1–3a of linking the two stories so closely together.

Narrative critics have tried to deal with the issue in different ways. Many use the tension to suggest that this is a subtle strategy for uncovering Elijah's faults. As I have argued above, this interpretation is untenable because, among other things, Elijah's statements in 19.10 and 14 are implicitly embraced by Yahweh in his response in 19.15–18. The assumption behind the whole narrative (1 Kgs 19.1–18) is that Israel has abandoned its God. One possible way to approach this difficulty is to surmise that since 18.39 Israel has backslidden. Elijah, Yahweh, and the narrator are privy to this information but for some reason have chosen to withhold it from the reader for the time being. ⁴⁸ The problem is that the narrative does not allow sufficient time for Israel to backslide. Dharamraj argues that the reader is expected to supply a time gap between the Carmel and the Horeb incidents during which Israel, it must be assumed, has turned its back on Yahweh. ⁴⁹ There is, however, nothing in the text itself to suggest such a gap. In fact, this interpretation goes against what is clearly implied by the narrative, namely that events follow each other in quick succession. We are thus faced with a literary paradox. We understand from the conversation between Elijah and Yahweh that Israel has backslidden (19.10–18) but the narrative provides neither time, nor space, nor motivation for this. The narrator does not address the anomaly and is seemingly undisturbed by it.

The paradox will continue to be unbearable as long as we attempt to reconstruct, on the basis of chs. 18–19, a coherent narrative world in which the story takes place. The artificial juxtaposition of the Carmel and Horeb episodes, however, prevents us from doing so and forces us to look for alternative strategies to make sense of what is going on. One possible way of dealing with the issue is to think of the two traditions as two different pictures, originally drawn independently and subsequently placed together in close proximity (on the same gallery wall?), inviting us to understand them in their relation to each other. The first picture is of successful prophetic ministry resulting in Israel's conversion to Yahweh (ch. 18). The second is of failed prophetic ministry leading to the nation's judgment by the sword (ch. 19). They point to the two different ways in which Israel could have responded to the prophetic word: by acknowledging Yahweh as God or by rejecting him and forsaking the covenant. ⁵⁰ The chronological sequence in which these divergent portraits are placed in reflects Kings' overall assessment of Israel. Whilst the people could have repented and sought Yahweh they did not, and ended up in exile. Whatever brief periods of fidelity there had been throughout history, these were of insufficient depth and longevity and could not alter Israel's ultimate fate.

The tight redactional connection between chs. 18 and 19 has the effect of relativizing the significance of Israel's confession in 18.39. The backsliding of Israel, assumed in 19.10–18, is neither explained, nor narrated—it is almost a given. In spite of all spectacular manifestations of divine power, at the end of the day apostasy has the final word. What Yahweh and his prophet accomplish makes no difference. Suddenly, without any reason, Israel retreats from the scene and does not utter a single word throughout the whole of ch. 19. The nation goes back to its initial silence (18.21), which betrayed its indifference to Elijah's message and its wariness about committing itself to Yahweh's cause. The awkwardness of the juxtaposition of the Carmel and Horeb stories brings the incomprehensible nature of Israel's apostasy into sharp relief. The narrative provides the reader with no clues to help make sense of the people's lack of constancy and commitment, which is only matched by the mystery of Jezebel's unswerving commitment to Baal in 19.1–3. In this respect Jezebel acts as a true representative of the people of Israel. Israel's religious failure is thus ironically presented as irrational. If this analysis is correct, part of the tension between chs. 18 and 19 is to be seen as a deliberate ploy by the ‘synthesizing imagination’ of the final redactor aimed at criticizing Israel's past unfaithfulness to Yahweh, and perhaps even serving as a post-judgment call to the exilic readership of Kings for a greater depth of their religious commitment. Another part of the tension, namely the contrast between the confidence of Elijah in ch. 18 and his fear in ch. 19, is most likely simply the result of the redactional history of the text. The sources are brought together in a creative way to form a new artistic unity with its own message, powerfully conveyed, but their original contours can still be dimly perceived under the surface.

5. Conclusion

The narrative of Elijah's journey to Horeb contains some odd features: Elijah's inexplicable fear of Jezebel (19.3), his accusations against the Israelites (19.10, 14), and the imprecise nature in which Yahweh's instructions (19.15–17) are carried out later on. I have tried to demonstrate above that neither those who interpret Elijah as an ambiguous or negative character, nor those who envisage a more positive portrayal of the prophet provide a convincing explanation for the presence of these tensions in the text. There are in fact no satisfactory literary explanations for most of these phenomena. Only the contradiction between the conversion of Israel in 18.39 and Elijah's complaints in 19.10, 14 seems to have an intended theological message, but even this cannot be well explained along purely literary lines. The rest of the tensions are best understood simply as the result of the redactional history of the text. This phenomenon serves as a useful reminder that an appreciation of the literary artistry of the text needs to go hand in hand with an awareness of its ancient origins and composite nature. Working exclusively on the synchronic plane lures the reader into the temptation to over-interpret the narrative gaps and to derive from them meanings which are not part of, and even contradict, the intended meaning of the final form. A reading strategy which takes into account the fact that the biblical text has a pre-history stands a much better chance of avoiding this danger and allows us to do justice to the multifaceted nature of the Elijah narrative.