Sermon – 1 Samuel 3.1-20, E2, YB (Annual Meeting), January 17, 2020

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action, creativity, difficult, God, Here I Am, Hineni, journey, listening, pandemic, Samuel, Sermon, service, technology

When I was in seminary, our Old Testament Professor would take roll every class.  She told us at the beginning of the semester we could either answer with, “Here,” “Present,” or if we were really bold, “Hineni,” which is the Hebrew word for “Here I am.”  Most of us giggled and several of us used the term throughout the semester.  But what I am not sure any of us realized fully was saying hineni was not simply about practicing our Biblical Hebrew or even taking attendance.  As one scholar explains, the word hineni connotes “a willingness to respond with action to one’s master.”[i]  So all those times we have heard those words uttered in Holy Scripture, “Here I am,” from Samuel, Moses, Abraham, Jacob, to Mary, we are not simply witnessing God taking attendance.  We are witnessing a weighty exchange: from the one who utters the words being willing to respond with action, to the response God offers:  a journey of difficult service.[ii]

As we gather for our Annual Meeting today, I am keenly aware of how much this has been a year of saying hineni to God.  At the beginning of 2020, showing up for God was easy.  We celebrated the ministry of our curate, we welcomed with gusto Presiding Bishop Curry’s message of love, we walked as pilgrims through the music and stones of the Mother Church in England, we sang the spirituals that have accompanied our black brothers and sisters for centuries.  Saying hineni was easy then.

Saying hineni was a lot harder when a pandemic began ravaging our nation, when our buildings closed and all our ministries had to totally transform within days’ notice, when weeks turned to months of separation and mourning for all we missed, when our black brothers and sisters called us to task about the impact of institutional racism in our country, and when political trauma demanded we define our Christian identity.  Saying hineni to God this year has indeed been an experience of being invited into a journey of difficult service.

But saying hineni this year has also been an experience is seeing the heretofore inconceivable.  We went from being a church with zero commitment to broadcasting our services to being a church with daily online worship.  We went from being a church where homebound members only saw an occasional visit to being a church where our homebound could see faces online they know not just in worship, but in formation and fellowship.  We went from being a church who put the onus on others to walk through our church doors to get to know us, to being a church who did drive-by birthday celebrations, online live auctions, and helping newcomers “meet us” without actually meeting us in a what we thought was the best way. 

 When Samuel, in a sleepy, confused stupor says hineni to God three times, he has no idea what is coming.  He is not a priest, he does not know that his priestly mentor will be replaced by himself, he does not know he will anoint kings, take away kingly power, and eventually watch his own sons fail as Eli’s do.  And yet, when Eli helps Samuel understand what he is to do, Samuel responds the fourth time, “Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.”  His response is no longer a sleepy, obligatory response of action, but is a confident, mature embracing of the difficult, but incredible road ahead.

We are entering into another year where God is calling our name too.  The arrival of vaccines at some point this year does not mean as we eventually regather we will simply go “back to normal.”  No, when God calls our name this year, God is inviting us to continue saying hineni to this new journey we are on – one where we continue being committed to sharing the gospel using all the technological gifts at our disposal, where we consider the new ways God has showed us to reach our neighbors in need, where we witness to the unchurched, and where we praise God for the gift of creativity that has always been our gift here at Hickory Neck – and then use that creativity to keep saying hineni to God.  As we look forward to this year, we do not simply sing hineni, “Here I am Lord.”  We also boldly say, “Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.”  Amen.

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[i] Cory Driver, “Commentary on 1 Samuel 3:1-10 [11-20]” January 17, 2021, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-after-epiphany-2/commentary-on-1-samuel-31-10-11-20-6 on January 14, 2021.

[ii] Driver.

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On Signs and Listening…

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faith, God, Jesus, journey, Lent, listening, preaching, sign, truth

Photo credit:  http://www.charismamag.com/life/women/34343-learning-to-listen-large-when-god-speaks-small

Every once in a while, someone will ask me to whom my sermon was directed.  I think most folks who ask this think I somehow got into their minds and was preaching about them.  But I always assure people that the primary person I am preaching to is myself, something on which I need work.  I share my struggle because I often hear echoes of my struggle in others’ struggles as well.

Well, this past Sunday I preached a sermon directed at myself, without even realizing it!  On Sunday we celebrated Transfiguration Sunday, this year using Matthew’s Gospel[i].  In Matthew’s Gospel, God says, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”  In my sermon, I talked about one of the things we all need to do this Lent is listen to Jesus.  Sunday night, by the time three services and one concert was over, my voice was gone.  By Monday, I was diagnosed with laryngitis.

Now, we can all get a laugh about how the preacher who reminded us all to listen is now mute and forced to listen to Jesus.  But I must be hardheaded, because I think Jesus was already asking me to listen just a few days before.  The week prior to my sermon, I had just returned from a pilgrimage, and was frantically trying to meet deadlines, follow up on pastoral care, and catch up on emails.  But we got a snow on Thursday night that cancelled school on Friday, and I had to clear my entire calendar so I could be at home with my kids.  Instead of making all my appointments, I sat down and did other things from my home office that were also being neglected.  I am convinced the snow day was God’s way of trying to get me to slow down, and listen to Jesus.  Apparently, I need more than one sign from God before I listen!

I wonder what signs you are finding in your faith journey?  Where are you having ah-ha moments of God speaking truth that finally click?  I believe God is speaking to us all the time:  sometimes in words directly to us, sometimes through the words and actions of others, and maybe even sometimes through creation!  As we take our ashes today, and as we begin a season of intentional relationship with God, I invite you to take time this Lent to listen.  I cannot wait to hear what God is saying to you!

[i] Matthew 17.1-9.

Sermon – Acts 8.26-40, E5, YB, May 3, 2015

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Acts, Baltimore, Christ, conversion, Ethiopian, eunuch, familiarity, Holy Spirit, life, listen, listening, Philip, race, Sermon, story, together

Have you ever heard a story so many times that you feel like you could recite it from memory?  There was a time in my life when I read the book Good Night Moon so many nights in a row that I could probably have told the story without even turning the pages.  But rereading books is not just a habit of young readers.  Adults do the same thing – we love a book so much that we may read the book again and again.  The familiarity of a story and knowing how the story will end can be quite comforting.  The same could be said of Bible stories too.  Though the Bible is a huge book with tons of stories, we tend to have our favorites that we read again and again.  We read and reread them because they give us a sense of comfort and they steady us in a world of chaos.

The challenge with a familiar story is that we sometimes get so used to hearing the story over and over that we stop really listening to the details.  That is especially true in our story from Acts today.  Philip, the educated evangelist graciously approaches the foreign, outcast eunuch and asks if he needs help interpreting scripture.  He then teaches the eunuch about Jesus, and graciously accepts him into the community of faith by baptizing in a nearby body of water.  In essence, this is a story about how the Jewish followers of Christ graciously open up the community to those who have traditionally been seen as outcasts.

At least that is how the story goes in my memory.  But as I reread the story this week, I began to realize that the comforting tale I had memorized is not quite as simple as I had remembered.  I had always thought of Philip as one of the educated disciples who graciously takes in the eunuch.  But Philip is actually an outsider in this story.  The Philip in our story is not the Philip from Bethsaida, one of the twelve disciples of Jesus.  This Philip is a Greek in Jerusalem, who is one of the seven appointed by the disciples to run the food pantry, the clinic, and the hospice program in Jerusalem so that the Twelve did not need to do that work.[i]  He is not necessarily well-educated, and in fact, is probably pretty disheveled and unseemly, given the relief work he has been doing with the outcasts of society.  The Ethiopian eunuch is an outsider too – in fact he is a double outsider of sorts because of his race and his sexuality.[ii]  Because of his dark skin and the fact that he is a eunuch means he would not have been allowed into the temple.  But this is no ordinary foreigner.  Yes, he is a double outsider, but he is also a highly educated, wealthy, powerful man.  He is in charge of the Queen mother’s treasury, he is prominent enough to ride in a chariot, and he is wealthy enough to own a scroll.[iii]  And although he is not allowed into the temple, he is returning from a time of worship in Jerusalem – so in some ways he is both a double outsider and a faithful follower.  When the eunuch invites Philip into his chariot, Philip is not the one being gracious – the eunuch is the one graciously allowing this disheveled man of faith into his pristine chariot.

Not only is there more complexity to the socio-economic status of these two men, there is also more to the interaction between the two men.  In my mind, Philip was the gracious imparter of wisdom in this story.  But in fact, the Ethiopian does not ask Philip to teach him – as if acknowledging that the two men are unequals.  The Ethiopian asks Philip to guide him – in other words, to journey with him into the Scriptures, and even eventually into baptism, as the two men go down into the water together.[iv]  These two strangers sit side-by-side and together read scripture and talk about what that scripture means.  Philip is on as much of a spiritual journey as the Ethiopian.  This is not a story about a well-educated follower of Christ taking in a marginalized outsider and converting him to Christ.  This is a story about two outsiders, unlikely to ever be sitting together, pondering the word of God together, and finding new life in Christ.

That’s the funny thing about stories – if we do not really pay attention and listen, we tend to fill in the blanks ourselves, often missing the big details.  As I have been watching the riots and racial unrest in Baltimore this week, I keep returning to that theme – that perhaps this is one of those instances where we have not done a very good job of listening.  I suppose I should not be surprised that we are not very good at listening.  We are a culture that talks over each other, that tries to force our version of truth upon one another.  I have listened to countless reporters this week argue with Baltimore residents and protests about their experiences.  I have read countless Facebook posts expressing anger and frustration about the civil unrest.  This whole week has felt like people are competing to have their own version of the truth being seen as the “Truth,” with a capital “T.”  In fact, just the mention of Baltimore probably has you thinking about your own feelings on the subject, mentally blocking any other narratives from your mind

When I lived in Delaware many years ago, I joined a group run through the YWCA that was meant to help foster healthy conversations about race.  One of the main rules of the group was that when an individual shared their story, we were not supposed to be in true conversation.  Each of us was to take turns telling our truths – without interruption or questions.  And the others in the group were to listen.  The method was so counterintuitive that the facilitator’s main job was to enforce the speaking and listening rules.  Although I struggled with the method, I must admit that I learned more in that group than I ever could have imagined.  When I listened – truly listened without assuming I knew how the story would end – I learned things about the experiences of black Americans that I had never known, and had certainly never experienced myself.  Truth unfolded for me like a blooming flower.

Those groups, and my experience this week of trying to prayerfully listen to the oppressed in Baltimore, reminded me of the interaction between Philip and the eunuch.  Back then, God’s chosen people and foreign, black, castrated men did not sit together and study scripture.  God’s chosen people were not accustomed to guiding people instead of teaching them.  God’s chosen people were not only not used to be called to accountability, they were also not likely to accept the criticism and change.  And yet, that is what these two men do.  And the only way any of this story happens is because both men listen – really listen to one another.

This winter I read a book called Toxic Charity.  The premise of the book is that much of the charity work that churches and communities do is flawed because that work is posed as work we do for others as opposed to with others.  The author criticizes communities that enter into impoverished areas, assuming they know what is best for the community.  Instead, the author suggests that those who want to help do so under the direction of those in need.  The main role of those who want to help is to assist the community in articulating their needs, and then empowering the community to make the systemic changes needed for long-term, sustainable change.  That kind of shift in charity work involves a lot more listening, humility, and a willingness to follow instead of lead.

In the case of Baltimore, in the case of Plainview, and really in the case of all Christianity, today’s story reminds us that there may not be simple answers to the world’s ills.  We cannot always fix what is wrong in our society – and in fact, perhaps we can never fix the wrongs without first being prayerful listeners.  As soon as we assume we know someone else’s story, or we know all there is to know about an issue, we have already shut down the movement of the Spirit.  And that is what this story is really all about.  This is not a story about how Philip converted a eunuch.  This is a story about how the Holy Spirit moved among strangers who had nothing in common and created commonality, love, and faith.[v]  The amazing work of Philip and the eunuch journeying to the baptismal waters together is only possible because both agree to vulnerably, honestly, prayerfully listen to one another, to learn together, and to be converted together.[vi]  Their story today invites us to go and do likewise.  Amen.

[i] William Brosend, “Unless Someone Guides Me,” Christian Century, vol. 117, no. 15, May 10, 2000, 535.

[ii] Barbara Brown Taylor, “Homilietical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 457.

[iii] Paul W. Walaskay, “Exegetical Perspective, Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 457.

[iv] Brosend, 535.

[v] Taylor, 459.

[vi] Nadia Bolz-Weber, “The Conversion of the Ethiopian Eunuch,” April 20, 2012 as found at http://thq.wearesparkhouse.org/yearb/easter5nt-2/ on April 29, 2015.

The art of listening…

Tags

busy, Eli, God, hear, Holy Spirit, listening, Samuel, spiritual direction

Someone recently asked me how my spiritual direction was going.  The question stopped me in my tracks because, in fact, I had not been to see my Spiritual Director since my maternity leave started nine months ago.  The excuses were always good.  First it was the need to tend to my newborn in those first three months.  Then it was the need to figure out how to get my footing being a mother of two and a full-time priest.  Then it was the craziness of the program year starting and the holidays.  But now it is Epiphany and I have run out of excuses.

For those of you unfamiliar with spiritual direction, a spiritual director is one who is trained in listening for the movement of the Spirit with their directee, helping them to discern what God is doing in their lives.  Anyone can use a spiritual director, but clergy are especially encouraged to use them because the temptation for many clergy is to get so busy in the doing of ministry that we forget to stop and listen to how the Holy Spirit is moving in and through our communities and ourselves.

In some ways, our Old Testament lesson last week was a bit like the work of spiritual direction.  In 1 Samuel 3.1-20, we hear the story of Samuel’s call narrative.  Samuel’s story initially comes off as a bit humorous:  Samuel constantly waking up Eli in the middle of the night, thinking Eli had called him and Eli shooing him back to bed.  But Eli, like any good spiritual director, finally gets it the third time – he discerns that the Lord is trying to speak to Samuel.  And so Eli gives Samuel the tools to respond to God.  The rest is up to Samuel.

Courtesy of http://americancatholiccouncil.org/2013/08/16/newsletter-august-11/

Whether we use a spiritual director or not, we all struggle to hear God.  We get busy living life and forget the ways in which the Holy Spirit is constantly whispering to us, beckoning us into conversation and relationship.  In living this way we miss out on the sacred moments of life, too busy to stop and listen.  If you find yourself in this pattern, I wonder who might help you to connect with the holy voice of God.  Perhaps it is through a formal spiritual director or perhaps it is through a mentor or friend like Eli.  Perhaps it is through regular times of prayer, or perhaps you catch that quiet in your car by turning off the radio and using the moment to hear something else.  If you have strayed away from listening lately, I invite you to rediscover the art of listening again.  My guess is that God has been waiting for you and may have a lot to say.