…and after the fire, a sound of sheer silence. 1 Kings 19: 12
I want to begin by thanking you for my sabbatical – the last three months of rest and rejuvenation – for the policy that established it, the support that led to receiving the Lilly Foundation Clergy Renewal grant that financed it and for the prayers that sustained me and my husband John in our travels and time together. I especially thank Pastor Skyle and Pastor Tom Kochenderfer as well as everyone who took on extra responsibilities – you are all awesome! Thank you!
Saying that, I can identify with Elijah who is the prophet in our first reading. I know where he is coming from. He’s tired and worn out. He’s done his best and still feels as if it is not enough. He’s in need of rest or a new job. Lots of people feel this way. I lost count of how many times in the past three months people told me, “I wish I could take a sabbatical.” Elijah’s done. And it’s not because he wasn’t a successful prophet – in fact, he was absolutely amazing. He served as a prophet during the reign of King Ahab, who according to scripture “did more to provoke the anger of the Lord, the God of Israel, than had all the kings of Israel who were before him.” Instead of obeying God, Ahab obeyed his Phoenician wife Jezebel, who worshipped the Canaanite fertility god, Baal. She got Ahab to build a temple to Baal and to kill God’s prophets.
Elijah is sent into this mess to bring God’s people back to the core tenant of Judaism – there is One God, not many gods – only Yahweh, the God of Israel is to be worshipped. Elijah challenges the prophets of Baal to a spectacular throw down – who can set a sacrificial bull on fire simply through prayer. The 450 prophets of Baal dance around the altar, cry aloud, even cut themselves but are completely unsuccessful. Elijah taunts them, suggesting their gods must be on vacation. Then he douses his own sacrifice in tons of water, calls upon Yahweh and the entire thing bursts into flame. But the joy of victory is short lived. Instead of achieving credibility for Yahweh or himself, Jezebel sets a price on his head and that’s when Elijah decides it’s time for a sabbatical.
Sabbatical – the word comes from the Hebrew Shabbat which means ceasing. It is a rest from work, a break. God takes a Shabbat on the seventh day after six days of creating and tells us to do the same. We are to remember the sabbath to have a holy day of rest, of remembering who we are and whose we are. So Elijah goes on Sabbatical, traveling a day into the wilderness and taking refuge under a solitary broom tree, a large desert shrub that provides shade and place to rest. He’s ready to give up and even asks God to take away his life. Exhausted, he falls asleep. And because the Lilly foundation hasn’t yet been formed, God sends him an angel who gives him food and drink and sets him out on a journey to Mount Horeb also known as Mt. Sinai, the mountain where God gave Moses the ten commandments. That where our first reading meets Elijah today, hiding in a cave on Sinai, not at all sure he ever wants to be found. But he is.
God asks him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Elijah lays out his complaint, “I was faithful. I did what you asked. But now I am alone and my enemies are trying to kill me.” God comes back with a enormous display of power – earthquake, wind and fire. Yet God’s self was not found in any of them. Then comes the sound of sheer silence and in this silence, God encounters Elijah. We know this because the prophet comes out of the cave with his cloak wrapped over his face so he won’t see the glory of God, which was forbidden. Stillness provides an opportunity for Elijah and us to know God is present.
It doesn’t always seem that way and in that moment, Elijah was still caught up in his grievances. When God asks again, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” he gives the same complaining answer. Perhaps he didn’t get what he wanted – a divine apology, the promise of retribution and revenge, a guarantee that his life would be spared – but nevertheless something happened to him in that time of sheer silence, something God’s very aware of, even if Elijah isn’t quite ready to acknowledge it.
You see silence opens us to God – not so much to hear what God has to say – but just to be with God. It can be hard to hear silence because first we need to turn off our own personal soundtrack. And to do that without congratulating ourselves on our ability to be quiet is difficult. In sheer silence two things happen, first God meets us and second we meet God and in the meeting we experience the grace and mercy that we are not God, not in charge of the universe, but just our very human selves. And then we discover we are saved by the grace-filled presence of God and not by ourselves or anything we did or can do. When we let go of the impossible work of trying to save ourselves we can realize we are loved to the very core of our being.
Last week one of my friends posted a Facebook article on parenting that helped me understand the power of such silence. A little boy had left his tiger blanket, the one he had slept with since he was a baby, in his grandmother’s car. Of course, the lost wasn’t discovered until it was time to go to bed and by then the blanket and his grandmother were a state away. The child cried, loud piercing wails. He was bereft. But instead of trying to distract or bargain with him his mom calmly sat next to him, not saying anything and just let him howl. It went on for 8 long minutes, but then with one final sob, he took a deep breath and was silent. Then he asked for a book and chose a different stuff animal to sleep with. After she kissed him good night, he told her, “I am going to be OK tonight.” And he was. The writer of the article said, “Difficult feelings are tunnels and we are trains traveling through them.” When we help our children go through those tunnels, not by doing the work for them, but by being with them, we are helping them build resilience.
For me it wasn’t losing my teddy-bear, but missing my family. During my first week of college I called my mom collect every night. This was long before cell phones, and the there was one pay phone for a whole floor of girls. She patiently listened to my laments and on day five said, “Cindy, we can pay our long-distance phone bill or your tuition. We’ll talk once a week, Saturdays at 10 am.” Then she gave me the gift of resilience saying, “You can do this!”
So God comes to Elijah, not through the wind, the earthquake or the fire, but through sheer silence and blesses his beloved prophet with resiliency. God gives him a commission, telling him to anoint some others and bring them into leadership. In the anointing, Elijah receives colleagues to work with and beyond that, God reminds him there’s also community of 7,000 people who remain faithful to Yahweh.
Resiliency is the ability to bounce back from adversity, to keep on keeping on, to get up when we’ve been knocked down by life or our own stupidity and sinfulness. Resiliency empowers us to reach within and find the means to move forward. After all the tears are cried out resiliency is in the silence that follows, enabling us take a breath and another and another into a new day. Just as God never abandoned Elijah, God never abandons us for we are resurrection people. By his death Jesus defeated death, so death is not the end for us either –there is new life ahead. Not only after we died, but each time we fail, grieve, sin, fall into despair, or just feel unsettled, uncertain, uncomfortable in our own skin. Moments of sheer silence can be moments of divine discovery of the commission God has given us – to love our neighbors, no exceptions. Even neighbors we don’t like or find annoying. Neighbors whose politics we disagree with or whose language we can’t understand. Love our neighbors – no exceptions! We don’t do this alone for God has given us colleagues and a community, a church, with a sacred mission to live, grow and share in God’s love through Jesus Christ, our Lord. We can do this! Amen.
1 http://pickanytwo.net/the-train-analogy-that-will-change-how-you-see-your-crying-child/