I Kings 19:1-15
Let me begin by asking you a question: “What are you doing here?”
That may seem like a question with an obvious answer. Today is Sunday, and we are gathered here for church. But I ask you that question because it is a question that is asked of Elijah, the prophet whose story we hear today, who has traveled 40 days and 40 nights to Mount Horeb. He has come to the holy mountain fearing for his life, and seeking the face and guidance of God.
Elijah was a prophet of the northern kingdom of Israel. His story in Hebrew scripture is a long and detailed one, and we have been hearing portions of it – some of them quite dramatic – in these last few weeks. Elijah was engaged in a fierce struggle with Ahab and Jezebel, the king and queen of the kingdom, to determine whether their people would remain faithful to the God of Israel or give their allegiance to the foreign gods of those who lived around them and in their midst. Even though he was victorious against the prophets of the Baal in a dramatic encounter on Mt. Carmel, Elijah is now fleeing for his life to another mountain, having been threatened by Jezebel. He is seeking refuge in the wilderness, and coming to the sacred mountain of his people. We know Mt. Horeb by its more familiar name: Mt. Sinai. It was where Moses first discovered in the burning bush his call to liberate the people from slavery in Egypt, and where later, the covenant between God and God’s people would be established with the 10 commandments. It is where he would expect to find God.
Christian worship is classically an act of offering – bringing our full selves before God in thanksgiving and praise. Every word we sing, every prayer we utter, and every offering we present at the altar is meant to be a free gift, a surrender of ourselves. And yet we are human beings. We know we also come with our needs and our desires. We are here for many reasons. Some of us are here because we are as frightened as Elijah. Events in our lives have created in us a deep fear and anxiety. Some of us are here because of a deep yearning. We are here because, our souls, like the psalmist’s, long for God as the deer longs for the flowing streams. Some of us are here because we are curious. And frankly some of us are not sure why we are here.
Many years ago I was fortunate enough to travel to England on a choral trip. At the end of the trip, I was going to visit some friends north of London. When I got to the train station, I saw a group of about 20 people standing on the corner, looking intently at the entrance to the station. I was early, so I decided to join them and wait to see what would happen. After five minutes, nothing had happened. After 10 minutes, still nothing. Finally, my curiosity overcame my shyness, and I turned to the person next to me and asked, “What are we doing here?”
He replied, “I have no idea. I saw a group of people waiting here, so I decided to join them.”
If you are unsure of why you are here, you might see someone near you who seems utterly focused and clear about her reason for sitting in the pew. But if you turned to her and asked her “What are you doing here,” don’t be surprised if she were to say, “I have no idea. I saw a group of people gathering here, so I decided to join them.”
One would think Elijah knew precisely why he was there on the mountain of God. He was a powerful prophet who had stood up to the Canaanite priests and prophets. He had shown that the God of Israel was the one true God. But now is fleeing for his life, having been threatened by Queen Jezebel. He has come to the holy mountain, the place of divine revelation, where Moses had first encountered God, and where the 10 commandments had been handed down.
Elijah has come all this way, even guided and supported by an angel of God, as he made his way through the wilderness. But no sooner does he find this place of refuge than he hears the voice of God saying, “What are you doing here?”
Not very encouraging words for someone who is seeking help. It almost sounds as if God is surprised that Elijah has shown up in this place. But the question gives Elijah a chance to plead his case. He has tried to be faithful. He has been zealous in his defense of the Lord. And now he is on the run. And he is afraid.
After Elijah has pleaded his case before God, there on the mountaintop, he hears these words: “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”
Go out and stand. Look, watch, listen. The Lord is about to pass by. In his moment of need, Elijah was told that God would appear. And then there are amazing events – the power of an earthquake, a mighty wind, and a blazing fire. These were just the kind of events that an Israelite might have expected when standing before the full presence of God. They were the ways in which God had been revealed in the ancient stories of the faith. But Elijah discovers something else. God was not identified with any of them. For the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.
Instead, what Elijah finally hears after all of this is nothing: “a sound of sheer silence.” Now what is that? What does silence sound like? Another more familiar translation describes that sound as a “still, small, voice.” Yet another translation renders these words as a low murmuring sound, and one biblical scholar hears in those Hebrew words “a voice of gentle stillness.” *
The word of God comes to the prophet, not in the mighty events, not even in the voice of Charlton Heston, but in a calm, centered, moment in the midst of all the turmoil of natural events and all the turmoil of political events. And out of that calm will come a direction to return to his call with the guidance and the assurance of God. “Go, return to the wilderness of Damascus.”
On that street corner in London, the stranger next to me had no idea why he was standing there. All of us waited a few more minutes, and sure enough there was some commotion across the street as police cars and motorcycles began to pull out of the station, followed by a large black limousine. Behind the tinted glass of the car you could barely see Princess Diana waving to the crowds, having just christened a new train engine in the station. Not exactly an encounter with the holy, but certainly with a celebrity. I did not have any more guidance for my journey north on the train, only a story to tell.
But here, in this story from the slopes of Mt. Horeb, and in the living of our lives we hear and see something different. We hear about this God who enters into human life in mysterious ways. We hear about this God in Elijah’s story. And we hear about this Jesus who comes into the midst of human communities and upends them and unsettles them with miraculous healings. And the story suggests that as much as we want to bring ourselves here to offer ourselves in love and devotion, it is also true that like Elijah, we come here to plead our case before God. To wonder: Does this great story of God’s calling forth people, of forming a new creation, of making a Way in life that is characterized by love, forgiveness, and the establishment of justice – does this story include me?
In seeking the answer to that question, we may seek the dramatic healing, that luminous moment, the earthquake, the wind, or the fire. And who are we to say that God will not act through those means? But we too may hear the question, “What are you doing here?” And faced with that question, we may struggle to give an adequate answer. But ultimately it is God who provides the answer: “You are here because I have called you here. You are here so that my purpose in your life will be fulfilled:”
“Go, return to the wilderness of Damascus.”
“Go, return to your home and declare how much God has done for you.”
“Go, be the parent that I have called you to be.”
“Go, be the son or the daughter I have called you to be, the teacher, the nurse, the attorney.
“Go, be business person who is engaged in your community, and whose every business decision is informed by your faith.”
“Go, be the person in this town and city of such wealth, who hears the cry of the poor, and who lifts up their cause in its midst.
“Go, be the be the bringer of peace to a culture and a world that is wrapped in violence.”
Some of you may have heard that the head of Exodus International, a group devoted to trying to “cure” homosexual persons, has written a letter of profound apology to the gay and lesbian community. He has done so as the organization is shutting down, having recognized that their attempts at reparative therapy with gay and lesbian persons have caused irreparable harm.
“Go, tell my gay and lesbian children that the legion of voices of rejection that they have heard for so much of their lives have been banished, so that they may clearly hear the one, still, small voice that says this: “You are my beloved child.”
“Go, fulfill the call that only you can complete because no one else in the world has your particular gifts or experience that will make you my servant.
So what are we doing here? We come to this holy ground to encounter the One who comes to us with a silent presence that sometimes contains no words but nonetheless speaks with an eloquence that overcomes every fear. We come to this place because our hearts which so long for God are met by a presence that enables us, however many tears we have shed, to know that we may once again hope in God. We come to this place because we know there is one named Jesus who is continually startling us with a power to bring healing to even the most imprisoned of souls. We are here, because the Lord has invited us, to stand on this mountaintop and see the Lord pass by.
God does not bring about change by manipulating the natural world, but by transforming the human heart. God changes the world by freeing us from the legion of voices that pull us this way and that, so that we can hear one, still, small voice, the voice who knows our name and who knows our needs, who knows the purpose for which we have been formed, and who will be faithful in seeing that purpose accomplished in us.
Amen.
*1 Bernhard Anderson, Understanding the Old Testament (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, Inc., 1975) 254.
A Sermon for St. John’s Episcopal Church
Charlestown, Massachusetts
Preached on the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
By the Rev. Thomas N. Mousin
June 23, 2013