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Lent 2012
OT: I Kings 19:9-18
PS: 27
NT: II Peter 1:16-21
G0SPEL: Mark 9:2-9
“And there was a sound of sheer silence.”
Though raised in the Christian faith, I was not raised an Anglican. I can tell you, that the faith
tradition in which I was raised was very uncomfortable with silence. Yet, we can see in this story that
God sometimes shouts loudest in silence and that silence is necessary in our Christian life.
God has, does and will speak to us in some very dramatic ways.
And I must admit those do tend to be exciting. The danger for us is that they can also be very addicting.
Nevertheless, most believers are more comfortable when God puts on the razzle-dazzle. One reason
may be that it is really easier to understand sometimes. Another reason may be it just makes us feel better.
Even when it is bewildering and scary, at least we know God showed up.
I think Elijah expected, and would much rather have had, God show
up in the more dramatic ways. Remember, going to the mountain, having fire and smoke, an earthquake and
a loud voice was very Jewish. After all, that is how their whole faith system began; Moses on a mountain
with all the stuff going on. Elijah, being in a combination of a “woe-is-me” (they all hate
me and want to kill me) and “how-great-I-am” (I am the only one serving you) attitude probably really thought
with each succeeding demonstration that God was really going to tell him something and vindicate him in his own eyes and in
the eyes of his enemies. But this time, when the smoke cleared, the fire burned out, the earth stopped
shaking and the winds stopped blowing there was only sheer silence.
Those same demonstrations are so very Christian! After
all, they are very reminiscent of how our faith was born. They weren’t on a mountain, but they were
in an upper room. And there was wind and fire and demonstration that could only come from God Himself.
And when God showed up, it changed 120 fairly timid believers into a force that grew and changed the world.
In
our Gospel we see God doing something pretty dramatic for Peter, James and John. Jesus took them to a mountain;
there is a cloud; a huge light illuminating from Him and Elijah and Moses show up to have a talk with Jesus. The
disciples were so frightened and dumbfounded that Peter, not knowing what to say, (uncomfortable with silence) blurts out
“This is good, we ought to build something” (sounds a lot like the modern day American church). Then
there is a voice that says, “This is my Son; listen to Him.” And then, the equivalent of Elijah’s
sheer silence. They look up; there is no cloud; no Moses and Elijah; no bright lights; just Jesus.
Like the prophet and the apostles it is very easy
to get our minds, hearts and eyes centered on ourselves and our experiences. As we repeat the church calendar every year;
in Advent, we look for and anticipate His coming. At Christmas, we rejoice and sing and dance that He came. And
at Epiphany we marvel at the revelation of His glory. If we’re not careful, it is rather easy to
develop a spiritual smugness. After all, look what He has done for us. In spite of what others may think
of us or try to do to us, God has still stepped down, turned on His light and performed His glorious show. Alleluia!
And suddenly there is Lent.
The Allelujahs stop, the lights go down, the priest dips his thumb into the burnt remains of last year’s glory
smears the ashes on our forehead in the form of a cross and tells us “remember that you are dust and to dust you shall
return;” the sheer silence of being left alone with Him. Alone to face the reality that He is in
control and we’re not all that.
The faith tradition in which I was raised really doesn’t handle personal introspection very well. Sinners
are those other people and sins are the things those other people do. I only slip and make mistakes.
This is where the upcoming season of Lent becomes our dearest friend. This is not a time of morbid
spiritual self-mutilation. It is the simple gift of sitting alone with God outside of the cave of our life
on top of whatever mountain God’s brought us to and hearing Him. Don’t worry, in just over
a month, we will all be able to shout again “He is risen!” because the wind will have blown and the earth will
have shaken and the rock will have been moved.
But Easter’s glory can only truly be understood if we
have sincerely walked through Lent’s silence. So if I may, let me offer you some spiritual counsel.
1. Be in church on Ash Wednesday. Humbly kneel and allow
yourself to be reminded
that God is God and you’re
not. The sheer silence from that thought will shout
freedom to your soul.
2. Consider a spiritual discipline
for the season of Lent. Something that will be a true
sacrifice that will allow you to silence the noise of your flesh and move deeper into
the silence of His Spirit. Something that will give you more time to spend with Him
and hear what He has to say.
3. Consider taking advantage of
the gift of confession. While not a requirement of our
Anglican faith, the confessing to the priest and the absolution granted by him is another
one of God’s private, silent ways of washing the ears of your heart so that you can
hear Him better.
Silence is not a bad thing. It is only the Conductor’s rising of His hands to still the audience
so that we all can experience the symphony of His Grace. And, who knows, after our ears have been trained
to hear the sweetness of the Holy Spirit’s song, perhaps once again, He’ll flip on the lights, roll in the smoke
and rock the place! Sometimes, God really does like to razzle-dazzle.
Blessing,
Fr. David A. Barrett
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