Speak, Lord 1-14-24
Speak, Lord
John 1:43-51; 1 Sam 3:1-10
John 1:43-51
The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Nathanael replied, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.” And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”
1 Sam 3:1-10
Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down. The Lord called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”
Prayer – Gracious God, you have called us together this day to worship, to listen to your still-speaking voice and to respond with Hinneni – Here I am. Sometimes, perhaps many times, we are unclear if it is your voice calling out in the night and so we have our doubts. Continue, O Lord, to find ways to overcome our doubts, to get past our defenses and encounter us in order that we might indeed be your listening servants – amen.
Several years ago the United Church of Christ started a theological campaign entitled “Still Speaking God,” as if to remind us that God is alive and well and still creating and communicating with all of creation. I suppose the impetus for their campaign was to answer the question, “Is God still speaking? And if so, what is God saying to us?”
Many places in the Bible describe God as forgetful, ignorant, remote, deaf and even asleep. In the Hebrew Scripture reading this week, God is portrayed as speechless – it’s as if God is unable or unwilling to talk; “in those days the word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions.” We generally don’t interpret descriptions of God in a literal way, nor should we. We explain these unflattering depictions of God as ‘anthropomorphisms,’ that is, as paltry human attempts to describe a God who is ultimately beyond description, to articulate the experience on many people today of the loneliness of abandonment in a silent world.
After the Asian tsunami that killed over 225,000 people in 11 countries, a little Indonesian boy remarked on television, ‘We have left our traditional ways, and so God was angry with us. He abandoned us. I think I am alive today to tell our people this.’ Indonesia is no more wicked or deserving of divine punishment than any other country, and in the NT Jesus discouraged linking human misfortune with divine punishment. But that little boy may have be on to something, I think. He was right to describe divine activity as mysteriously intertwined with human choices, to picture human history as a dynamic connection between God’s speech and humanity’s response. History is not mechanistic, and still less is it meaningless; it consists of an interplay between the free decisions of people and the sovereign love of God.
So in a way, that’s how I understand Samuel’s assessment. The silence of God and the absence of visions were not just a subjective feeling, a poetic anthropomorphism, or a human projection onto their image of God. Rather, Samuel accurately describes an objective state of affairs. His day was a period for political anarchy in Israel’s history when ‘every person did what was right in his/her own eyes.’ Not too different than today. People were not listening for God’s voice, whether gentle or as a whirlwind. God was not speaking. God was silent. Visions were rare. Having left their traditional ways, as the Indonesian boy put it, God was angry with Israel.
It’s a chilling thought to imagine that God might grant humanity’s request for total autonomy, that God would honor our insistence that God leave us alone, or that God would just shut up as a consequence of our inability to differentiate God’s voice from all the other voices we listen to. If that were true, perhaps God’s last, terrifying word to us might be, “I have answered your prayers and now grant you the horrible freedom you have craved. Since you are so disinterested as not to listen, I will no longer speak. From now on, the only voices you will hear, will be your own.
But a single person can make a difference. Samuel proved to be the exception in this story. Dedicated to the Lord by his mother Hannah at an early age, he continued to grow in stature and in favor with the Lord and with men. In contrast to the silence that had fallen upon the land, God spoke to him three times as a youth, and he responded with his famous words, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’ In contrast to the priest Eli and his two degenerate sons who flaunted their exploitations in the place of worship, ‘the Lord was with Samuel as he grew up, and He let none of his words fall to the ground.’ The nation recognized Samuel as a prophet who heard from and spoke for Yahweh. Samuel eventually crowned Israel’s first king, Saul, but not before warning the nation about the oppression that comes with political power. By himself, Samuel ended the drought of divine silence in Israel, for ‘Samuel’s words came to all Israel.’
The story of Samuel and the silence of God reminds me of a ‘saying’ from the early desert fathers in Egypt that emphasizes the decisive link between divine speech and human attention, between God’s call and human response, between word and obedience. Like so many of the desert sayings, this story from Abba Felix begins in one place and ends in another – “Some brothers who had some seculars with them went to see Abba Felix and they begged him to say a word to them. But the old man kept his silence. After they had asked for a long time he said to them. ‘You wish to hear a word?’ They said, ‘Yes, Abba.’ Then the old man said to them, ‘There are no more words nowadays. When the brothers used to consult the old men and when they did what was said to them, God showed them how to speak. But now, since they ask without doing that which they hear, God has withdrawn the grace of the word from the old men and they do not find anything to say, because there are no longer any who carry their words out.’ Hearing this, the brothers groaned, saying, ‘Pray for us, Abba.’”
I wonder, I wonder if perhaps the Indonesian boy spoke more than he even knew. If there are ‘no more words nowadays from God, if God has indeed withdrawn the grace of his word,’ that might have more to do with our human refusal to listen than with any divine reluctance to speak. I wonder if today is not the only day that our faith communities have seemed blind, deaf, hapless and without resources having turned a deaf ear?
No matter who you are, no matter how often you show up at church, no matter the depth and breadth of your belief, God has chosen us, invited us into God’s company, in fact, has given each of us holy work to do. And God can undo these invitations as quickly as God made them in the first place if we choose not to listen. And perhaps it is God’s saving grace that God has a soft spot for those who listen as well as those who ignore, but we do hear a warning against religious arrogance. In our story this morning, Samuel is an outside while Eli is an insider. Epiphany shows that those roles can be flipped in a heartbeat.
But Eli is not entirely deaf and dumb when God calls out to Samuel. He at least has a dim memory of when this sort of thing used to happen in his house. He coached Samuel, tell God, ‘Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.’ Samuel does just as his old friend instructs, and then hears the word that makes ears tingle. Eli’s day may be over, his house may be in shambles after failing to heed God’s call. And yet, Eli knows what to do when God calls gently in the night.
As one who does not often receive God’s words, Eli also knows what to do when someone else has. He berates Samuel into telling him exactly what God has to say. He even seems to have a premonition that the good news might not be so good. Even if news from God might be bad for us, it is still news from God. It must be proclaimed. Eli also knows what to do when he’s heard from the Lord – let God do what God does. Not passive resignation but a faithful response that God’s word, whatever the content, matters.
Scholar Stephen Chapman shares ‘Eli’s day might be past, but he still has a role to play in God’s economy.’ He knows what to do when God not only appears but speaks. He knows to ask the Lord to continue speaking, and perhaps at one time knew how to listen himself. He blesses the Lord even when the news is bad for him and his house personally. Samuel’s day is coming. His youth and newness show that God has not forgotten his people. God will raise up faithfulness in the debris of human unfaithfulness.
And in a religious world where we all too often cling to the husks of things long dead, this is good news. There is a new generation coming. God will not let God’s words fall to the ground. The best days of God’s people are not behind us, with the exodus and Sinai and the promised land. The best are still to come, with yet more prophets, and an entire world redeemed by the one who is never unfaithful. God’s people are not known for our nostalgia; we must be known for our hope.
And yet, there is something to Eli, to the temple, to his office, to all these matters institutional, that is still essential. Such institutional fixtures know how to distinguish between a word from God and any old human word. The know what to do when that word comes; and they know to praise God’s name, however badly something may affect us and our family. Eli needs Samuel for there is no future without him; and Samuel needs Eli. Otherwise, Samuel would still be wondering today who the heck was calling in the night.
The church, like the synagogue, is one of the only places in our culture where the young and old make our lives together. Where else in our culture do people from multiple generations entangle themselves in mutually dependent relationships without sharing the same last names? I cherish those moments when grandchildren show up with grandparents, often unaware what a treasure they have in the moment. God is the God of all generations, ancient and new, and God needs us all, together, to make this the world God dreams about. Speak, Lord, your servants are listening – thanks be to God – amen.