Sunday, June 19, 2022

Sermon - From the Silence Comes the Word (Proper 7C)

3rd Sunday in Pentecost (Proper 7)                                               June 19, 2022
I Kings 19:1-15a

One of the most positive interpretations of our Old Testament lesson came back to me in the form of a Facebook post I made last year. We were deep in the pandemic lockdown, wondering when life would get back to normal. The quote went something like this:

This is your gentle reminder that one time in the Bible Elijah was like, “God, I’m so mad I want to die.” So God said, “Here’s some food. Why don’t you have a nap? So Elijah slept, ate, and decided that things weren’t so bad. Never underestimate the spiritual power of a nap and a snack. (Joy Clackson @joynessthebrave on Twitter.com)

Of course, it’s not really that simple, this story of Elijah storming off into the desert. Elijah is coming off of a series of what many see as great victories – raising the dead, calling down the fire, overthrowing the prophets of Baal, proclaiming drought, but ultimately standing alone. He is weary, driven more by fear than by love and dedication to God. Ultimately, he begs for death. But God was not finished with him yet.

In her book, The Cloister Walk, Kathleen Norris chronicles her draw to the monastic life of prayer, liturgy, and silence. "What are you doing here?" She kept hearing that question in her head as she spent her first week of retreat at a Cistercian Monastery. Why does a non-Catholic female middle-aged married minister hang out at a monastery? All week she seemed to want some sort of a message - to talk to somebody, to have a reality check about where she saw God working in her life, but what could have just as easily perceived as being a little bit odd. All week, monks were seeking out other guests for conversation, and there she was, trotting silently between the guest house and the church, pretty much unnoticed.[i]

Then one morning at worship, a tall, young, bearded monk read this passage from I Kings 19 - and she noticed something different right away. It wasn’t the translation she was used to, proclaiming God’s word in a “still, small voice.” Instead, God’s word can be in the “sound of sheer silence.” And she felt a little relief, that God could be speaking to her in the silence that she was experiencing. And she prayed a little prayer, “Lord, help me to understand. I am all alone.” And in the silence, she suddenly knew, hearing deep within, ‘You are not alone.’ The silence bore fruit.

Translators have had a hard time with the "still small voice." Other translations read “Gentle whisper, soft whisper of a voice, gentle little breeze, gentle blowing, low murmuring sound, the sound of a gentle breeze.” But the translators of the NRSV understood that it wasn’t so simple that God would speak very quietly. Instead, as hard as it is to understand, sometimes God’s voice comes in the sheer silence, a loud, crushing weight that sits on our shoulders, and which we often avoid at all costs.

Elijah’s complaints are often the same as ours – twice he proclaims himself alone in verses 10 and 14. But God speaking in the silence is a reminder that Elijah is never alone. God’s plans did not rest solely on his shoulders, and the same is true today. We may be unable to bring God’s kingdom into our reality by ourselves, but there is a future, and alliances exist that we do not yet know. Think about it: Elijah still feels alone after being fed by an angel - TWICE! Sometimes, depression and despair can blind us to miracles in our midst.[ii]

Have you ever felt uncomfortable in the silence of worship? We often have rubrics for silence built into the service, but we glide over them for reasons too numerous to list. In the end, I think it’s that we don’t like the silence. It makes us feel alone. At home or in the car, we listen to the radio or podcasts - we turn on the TV for company. Some of us even talk to ourselves. We avoid it because the silence forces us to deal with the turmoil that is going on inside us. And it is the last place that we expect to encounter God.

John Cage wrote a famous piece of music called 4'33", which indicates the length of the performance. The performer enters the stage, sits at the piano, and proceeds to do nothing for 4'33". The "music" is the sounds in the room: the A/C, honk of a horn on the street outside, shuffling feet, nervous coughs, and more. When asked about its purpose, Cage said, "Take time and listen, the sounds around you are music, too.” Didn't Elijah discover the same about God? He expected God's presence in the wind, earthquake, and fire, yet found God's presence in the silence.

There are times when it takes a lot of practice and patience to wait in silence for God to begin a dialog, instead of performing our incessant monologue – our needs, our wants, our predetermined ideas about what God wants by creating God in our image.

This week as Shawn and I were driving back from our vacation, we caught up on the daily devotional podcast, Our Daily Bread. Last Monday’s was based on this 1 Kings passage. Sheridan Voysey of Oxford, England wrote:

I once heard a businessman describe his years in college as a time when he often felt “helpless and hopeless” from bouts of depression. Sadly, he never talked to a doctor about these feelings, but instead started making more drastic plans—ordering a book on suicide from his local library and setting a date to take his life.

The library notified the student when his book on suicide was ready to collect. But in a mix-up, the note went to his parents’ address instead. When his mother called him, distraught, he realized the devastation his suicide would bring. Without that address mix-up, he says, he wouldn’t be here today.

I don’t believe that student was saved by luck or chance. Whether it’s bread and water when we need it, or a timely wrong address, when mysterious intervention saves our lives, we’ve encountered divine tenderness.[iii]

But we must also acknowledge that some biblical scholars don’t see Elijah as the hero in this story. Elijah behaved a little like Jonah, proclaiming God’s words and then mad when it didn’t all turn out the way Elijah thought it would. Yes, Elijah prevailed on God’s behalf, but Elijah also had to run for his life. Not quite the resounding victory Elijah imagined. Whether he is angry or afraid, Elijah gave up. But that was not in God’s plan, and with a nap and something to eat in his grasp, Elijah travels a dangerous road to be reminded that God isn’t just in the big things, but in the microsecond of silence, if we will only pay attention.  Sometimes our ability to lead can only be accessed if we confront our own weaknesses and rely on the Holy Spirit to direct us into places we would not choose ourselves to go.

I don’t know what that looks like for you… it’s looked a lot of different ways for me. Some of the directions my life has taken can only be described as places where only God’s voice – still, small, or in silence, gave me the courage to go forward, even when others said, “stop.”

God’s divine tenderness can be gentle and caring, but God can also hand us a Snickers bar and remind us to have a snack and a nap, and then be on our way… on our way to where God calls, and where we will face our future, unafraid.

Amen and Amen.

Peace, Deb
(c) Deb Luther Teagan, June 2022

[i] Kathleen Norris, The Cloister Walk, Chapter

[ii] Pulpit Fiction Podcast, Proper 7C pulpitfiction.us

[iii] Sheridan Voysay, Divine Tenderness, Our Daily Bread, June 13, 2022 https://odb.org/DE/2022/06/13/divine-tenderness

 

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