Sunday, June 19th, 2022 – 2nd Sunday after Pentecost
Philip’s Reflection: “Listening for a Gentle Whisper” (1 Kings 19:12)
There are more thoughts than usual on my mind this Sunday, the 1st Sunday after my
ordination: I’m humbled and joyful to be called to serve as your new Minister, from July
1st; I also speak to you in gratitude on this Father’s Day for the life and influence of my
own father, who would have turned 101 next Sunday, and for the blessing of children,
father and mothers to our grandchildren; and I’m also reminded, with National
Indigenous Peoples Day this Tuesday, of how much work still needs to be done,
through truth and reconciliation, in our relationships with Canada’s Indigenous Peoples.
But this morning, as we do each Sunday, we’ll try and find meaning in the Scripture
we’ve just heard read and I will invite you into the meditations of my heart as I share my
own understanding of “the Word of God” that is revealed. And today’s reflection comes
from a different place than usual because, as some of you know, on weekdays I’ve
started taking the bus to and from St. David’s – it’s an easy ride – on the #7 from
Dunbar, a quick change at Georgia and Granville, to connect with the #254 that drops
me right across from the Church at 8.35 here on Taylor Way. And if, I’m tired or
delayed, and miss that connection, the #250 drops me at Park Royal, and I can wake up
with a brisk walk up Taylor Way!
Travelling by transit gives me an extra couple of hours each day for reading and study
and, as you would expect of your new Minister, I have downloaded the Bible into my
Kindle app, and I’ve read and reflected on today’s lectionary readings on my iPhone as I
crossed the Lions Gate Bridge. And I have to admit that as I raised my eyes to look
around the bus one day this week, surrounded by passengers of many different
cultures, languages, age and gender, Paul’s letter to the Galatians, that we’ve just been
reading, took on a new meaning “There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer
slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”
And I realized more vividly than I could have done in my home office that “clothed with
Christ” we are all children of God, unconditionally loved for who we are, and who we
can become; where differences of race or culture are valued in their rich diversity for we
are “one in Christ Jesus.” And this is as true in the sanctuary at St. David’s as it is on
the #254 bus!
What wisdom can we draw from our Old Testament reading about the great Hebrew
prophet Elijah, who ranks right up there with the prophet Moses, as an advocate for
Yahweh as the one and true God – in fact Elijah’s name in Hebrew means “Yahweh is
my God”. In the previous chapter in the Book of Kings, we read about Elijah’s dramatic
confrontation with King Ahab and the 450 prophets of the fertility God Baal on Mount
Carmel, when Yahweh answered Elijah with a consuming fire; all the people had fallen
on their faces and proclaimed “The LORD alone is good” and Elijah, having
demonstrated the power of the God of Israel, ordered the false prophets of Baal to be
seized and killed, at the Kishon River. When Queen Jezebel, Ahab’s wife, hears of this
humiliation, she orders Elijah himself to be killed – and today’s reading starts with Elijah
running for his dear life, fleeing into the wilderness and collapsing, exhausted under a
large desert bush, praying that he might die “I have had enough Lord, take my life, I am
no better than my ancestors.” And, in his despair, an angel comes to him in the night
and gives him bread and water, sufficient to sustain him for “forty days and forty nights”
in the desert until he reaches Mt. Horeb, also known as Mt. Sinai, the Mountain of God,
the same mountain where Moses received the Commandments; Elijah crawls into a
cave to spend the night.
And now we witness a second great “theophany” on Mt. Horeb, this time the
appearance of God to the Prophet Elijah – in a great and powerful wind that “tore the
mountain apart and shattered the rocks… but the Lord was not in the wind.” And then
there was an earthquake – “but the Lord was not in the earthquake”. And after the
earthquake there was a fire – “but the Lord was not in the fire.” And after the fire, God
speaks to Elijah in one of the great phrases of the Hebrew Bible – translated in our
version today as “a gentle whisper”, what other translations refer to as “a still, small
voice” or, literally from the Hebrew, “a sound of finely textured silence” – the type of
silence so sheer, a silence that we can almost see and touch. And in this silence – after
the wind, earthquake and fire have subsided, Elijah hears the voice of God “What are
you doing here, Elijah?”. What are you doing here?
At the sound of this still small voice, this gentle whisper, Elijah covers his face with his
cloak – well wouldn’t you? – we might pull the sheets over our heads – and, in the
presence of God, his first reaction is a mixture of fear and desperation as if “Why me
Lord?” – “I have been very zealous for the Lord” Elijah says – it’s the other Israelites
that are to blame, they’ve rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, killed your
prophets and “I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”
We don’t know how long it took, in this silence, for Elijah to hear God’s reply but soon
Elijah starts to trust the silence, to feel God’s presence in that quietness after the storm,
to listen rather than speak, patiently and humbly, for the gentle whisper that would
answer all his questions. And in that silence, Elijah hears the still small voice telling him
– “Go back the way you came, and go to the Desert of Damascus” and he would be
given further instructions for what to do there.
As the storm clouds begin to lift here at St. David’s, I hear God asking us “What are you
doing here?”. For in recent years we too have experienced major upheavals in all our
lives – a global pandemic, extreme weather events, conspiracy theories, a European
war - that have shaken us individually and the Church, in similar fashion to the rocksplitting wind and the fire and the earthquake that shook Mt. Horeb. And there have also
been times in all our lives when we have listened for God’s voice but, like Elijah, did not
hear it amid the rush and fury and busyness and existential anxiety of the storm. But the
meaning of this story, it seems to me, is to be found in that “finely textured silence” that
comes after the storm, and it is in that silence, that perhaps we too might hear a voice
that calls us to “go back the way you came”; not to try and be something we are not, or
that others tell us we need to be - not a radical or dramatic reinvention into someone or
something “else”.
“Going back the way you came” is a journey that seeks to draw on the strengths of who
we are and to make full use of those abundant gifts – of good people, with experience
and goodwill and excellent facilities – with which we have been blessed; of letting go of
what may be holding us back from becoming the people that God wants us to be; and
imagining a future that brings these gifts together in ways that offer spiritual growth and
transformation. It is, if you like, an “asset based” approach and it is one that you have
already embraced by calling an ordained minister of “Word, Sacrament and Pastoral
Care”, and allocating two thirds of the Minister’s time to the core ministries of worship,
Christian education, and pastoral care, with a further 20% devoted to leadership.
“Going back the way you came” is not a trip down memory lane, not a journey of
nostalgia, nor one to open old wounds, or risk getting stuck in the past. I think of it as
“going back to the future”, focusing on the growth of our core ministries of worship and
music, teaching and learning about sacred scripture and the Christian tradition, and
providing spiritual care and fellowship for ourselves and our neighbours. We first need
to strengthen the foundations of who we are so that, together, we may become the
community that God wants us to be; and this must surely be our priority in the year
ahead. I give thanks, by the grace of God, for the opportunity to help shape and
participate in that noble endeavour, right now and right here in the beloved community
St. David’s.