Repository of
Sermons
/ Calendar of Events /
Activities
Last Sunday of the
Epiphany
February 26, 2006
Sermon by Rev. Barb Hauck, Deacon
Readings
Nine year old Joey was asked
by his mother what he had learned in Sunday school.
“Well, Mom,” he said, “our teacher told us how God sent Moses behind
enemy lines on a rescue mission to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.
When he got to the Red Sea, he had his engineers build a pontoon bridge
and all the people walked across safely. Then he used his walkie-talkie
to radio headquarters for reinforcements. They sent bombers to blow up
the bridge and all the Israelites were saved.”
“Now, Joey,” said Mom, “is that really what your teacher taught you?”
“Well, not exactly. But if I told it the way the teacher did, you’d
never believe it!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Today we live in a world where we are literally bombarded with noise. In
Duluth and other cities, we endure the noise of traffic, horns blaring,
people yelling. In the more rural areas, like our Iron Range or the
north shore, we have the noise of snowmobiles, hunters, and, all too
frequently, the noise of progress delivered by chainsaws. Offices are
filled with the hum of fluorescent lights, ventilation systems, and
conversations. Our homes – for some of us, our sanctuaries – have the
never-ending distractions of TV, children playing, meals being prepared,
lawns mowed (or snow moved!), and, of course, the ever-present
telephone. Our lives are truly filled with noise wherever we go… we even
have “white noise” gizmos we can buy to help us sleep – machines that
“cover up” the noise of car doors slamming, neighbors talking, spouses
snoring, minds whirring. Yes, even when we retreat to the quiet of our
own hearts and souls – as I do when I spend 24 hours in the car driving
to Michigan to visit my 95-year-old mother each month – we find
ourselves recalling the noisy distractions that we call life.
In the Gospel reading we just heard, Jesus left the noise of the city
and pulled away to a mountain retreat, bringing with him John, Peter,
and James. Now these men were no strangers to noise, either – they were
familiar with the sounds of crowds moving, merchants hawking their
wares, and carts moving about in town. Jesus led these three disciples
to a quiet place – away from the hustle and bustle of city life. And it
was there that an unimaginable transfiguration took place. In silence,
John, Peter, and James experienced the Transfiguration of Christ. These
close-knit and devoted followers saw Jesus awash in light, talking to
the revered prophets, Moses and Elijah, which, to them, signified
something deeply sacred. Filled with the natural anxiety I’m sure most
of us would feel, Peter filled the uncomfortable silence by speaking to
Jesus – suggesting, “let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for
Moses, and one for Elijah.” And almost immediately, the vision
disappeared – one of the most awesome experiences of their lives, ended.
We are so busy doing things these days. We do ministry – the ministry of
befriending, of reaching out to those on the margins of our society, of
participating in worship, in teaching Sunday school, in leadership. We
do good works – working in soup kitchens, making baby blankets for teen
parents, knitting hats and gloves for the homeless citizens of our area,
reading to elementary school-aged children, volunteering at our
hospitals and shelters. And as important as all of these things are,
they are not enough to make us effective servants of our Lord. Sometimes
our lives are so full of doing things that we truly “cannot see the
forest for the trees.” We must also be nurtured and nourished by
Scripture and God’s words we hear with our hearts. We are renewed and
regain our strength through prayer… and our eyes are opened once again
to God’s presence in our lives.
Many people define prayer as conversation with God. Many inspirational
writers and preachers tell us to listen to God – but they don’t exactly
tell us how to do it. So first we pray, and then we try to listen for an
answer to our prayers. It’s the listening that’s the hard part. For, in
order to hear, we first must face the concerns we carry in our hearts.
Prayer is a process… praying and then trying to set aside everything
that seems to get in the way of our listening. We go through what’s
happened that day, what else we would/could/ should be doing instead of
spending time praying, and, of course, what we need to do as soon as
this prayer is done. Then, if we’re lucky, after we’ve completed this
lengthy process to clear our minds, we begin to hear… silence. It is
often in that place of quiet – a quiet heart, soul, and mind – that we
can actually have that conversation with God. Finally, we’re ready.
We seem to think praying should be easy, but it has not been so for me.
I have found it takes time, effort, energy, and incredible patience (not
my long suit!). I find it impossible to rush from one thing to another
and slide a prayer in somewhere in between. The author of today’s psalm
understood this – understood the need to wait for God, in silence. Verse
14 of Psalm 27 – one of the verses we did not sing today – says, “Wait
for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; wait for the
Lord.” In the midst of the busyness of our lives, waiting for the Lord
is challenging. But, pulling to the side of the road in the upper
peninsula two weeks ago to watch a Bald Eagle soar high under his own
power, and then float on the winds of the Spirit (God’s power), I was at
last able to see some things that I could not see previously. Like John,
Peter, and James, God moved me to understanding through a moment in time
when I set the busyness of my life aside – and stopped. Multitasking
notwithstanding, I must admit I find it far too difficult to listen for
God amid the helter-skelter of activities that I call life. Perhaps you
do, too.
To my mind, waiting for God means being completely available to God –
following the example of Jesus who, so many times, withdrew to quiet,
private places to pray. In silence we can meditate on Scripture, we can
seek a deeply meaningful relationship with God and a better
understanding of how God is present in our lives. Those of us who
attended John Cowan’s Buddhist-Christian meditation series learned some
skills for quieting ourselves – mind, body, and soul – in order to
become one with God, in silence. God is available to each of us – but we
must also be available to God.
Elijah plays a prominent role in two of today’s readings. What can we
learn from him? Well, like most of us, he preferred doing things –
especially when it came to what God asked of him. Today’s Old Testament
reading begins just after Elijah had defeated and then killed over 400
prophets of Queen Jezebel’s fertility god Baal. Jezebel retaliated by
threatening his life.. and Elijah ran to the mountains in the desert.
Feeling scared, depressed, and abandoned by God, he hid in a cave,
afraid for his life. Despite God’s provision of food and shelter in the
desert, Elijah wanted, more than anything, to die. A “mountaintop
experience,” wasn’t sufficient to cure his fear-induced deafness to
God’s voice. So God provided him with an extremely noisy “audio-visual
display.” Elijah witnessed a tremendous windstorm, a destructive
earthquake, and a fierce fire. But the Lord was not in any of those
powerful things. Instead, God chose to display his presence in the sound
of… sheer silence. At last, Elijah could hear.
I wonder what 9-year-old Joey, the child in the humorous story I shared
earlier, would have thought of the
passages of Scripture we heard today.
How would he have described them to his mother – how would he have
modified them to make them more ‘believable’? I imagine he would have
had some pretty fantastic sound effects for the powerful and dramatic
events Elijah experienced. But I’m really curious about how Joey – a
child of our time, a time when alarms go off in our pockets to remind us
of meetings, a time when music fills the air of restaurants and malls, a
time when rather than being entertained by quietly reading a book we
must play video games with the volume on full blast – I’m curious how
Joey would depict the disquieting sound of silence.
As we prepare ourselves to begin the Lenten season, it’s important to
remember that our most effective tool for communicating with God is
prayer – complete with listening for a response. Listening in silence,
we can hear God and, perhaps, witness the Transfiguration as John,
Peter, and James did. In the silence on that mountaintop, they were
transformed. “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!” On that
mountaintop with Moses and Elijah, no longer were the Law and Prophets
the only place to seek guidance… they were now to recognize Jesus, the
Beloved, as the fulfillment of their sacred texts.
“This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!” They listened with their
hearts – and life would never be the same. In that experience they
caught a glimpse of who Jesus was and the glory of God that was to come…
things that would change the course of their lives, and ours. When we
take the time to focus on God in silence, we learn – as the Psalmist
suggested – to wait for the Lord, developing courage and strength. The
story of the transfiguration of our Lord we heard today speaks
powerfully to our journey – to our own search for personal
transfiguration (like that I experienced on the side of the road), just
as it speaks to our deepest desires for the transfiguration of God’s
church and the world.
We live in challenging times. Conflict between nations and between
neighbors surrounds us. Natural disasters overwhelm us. Poverty robs
families of hope. Violence permeates our lives. God is calling us to be
courageous and strong. God needs us to be courageous and strong. Now, as
a deacon who challenges you – indeed, empowers you to be Christ’s hands,
feet, and heart in the world, you won’t hear me say this very often:
STOP. Embrace silence as a dear friend. Listen for the small, still
voice of God deep within your heart, and… in so doing… find yourselves
fed, strengthened, and filled with courage. Like our ancestors before
us, may we witness the Transfiguration, and find ourselves transformed.
And may we have the faith and determination to follow God in Christ to
the mountaintops and through the valleys of life – wherever that journey
takes us. AMEN.