Second Sunday after the Epiphany
John 1:43-51; I Samuel 3:1-20; I Corinthians 6:12-20
Have you ever fallen asleep in church?
Or maybe the question should be, “Is there anyone here who has never fallen
asleep in church?” Every preacher knows that the modern congregation is
an audience with limited experience at listening to spoken presentations. We
are use to the dynamic of television with commercial breaks every 8-14 minutes
and even then we do not do well with video presentations that are just talking
heads. As a society we have lost the art of listening without the benefit of
visual stimulation. If the mind wanders it usually winds up dozing off.
In my first parish I had a church council president
who suffered from a subtle form of narcolepsy—that’s a condition that
causes someone to fall asleep sometimes even in the middle of something very
important. Haywood used to drift off any time he sat down and relaxed for any
period of time—and sermon time was one of his greatest challenges. Early
on in my ministry he assured me that he could not help himself but that if it
was any comfort he found that when he slept in church he usually dreamt of me
preaching—he never said whether he considered such dreams a nightmare or
mere fantasy.
In our Old Testament lesson for today, the young
boy Samuel has fallen asleep in church—actually, it is not just any old
church but Samuel is sleeping in front of the Ark of the Covenant—sleeping
at the very foot of God’s throne. This was in a time more than 1,000 years
before the birth of Jesus—A time before there were even kings in the land
of Israel—the 12 tribes existed as a loosely covenanted confederation—and
the holiest of places was the Shrine of the Ark of the Covenant at the ancient
city of Shiloh—The ark was housed in a tent—as it had been since the
time of the exodus wanderings following Moses—and priests from each of
the twelve tribes took turns officiating at offerings before the Ark—And
once each year the tribes would gather—or at least their representatives
would gather—to renew the covenant that bound them to one another.
The story of Samuel opens with a description of
the son’s of the old priest Eli officiating at Shiloh before the ark—only
they are described as “worthless men” who were abusing their positions
and stealing from the people and God. It was a time of people living in fear—threatened
by enemies all around—longing for a voice to lead them but as the text
says: “The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not wide
spread.” The young boy Samuel was working in the tent of the Ark as a servant
and helper of the aged and near-blind Eli. We are also told that “Samuel
did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed
to him”. It was night time—the lamp of God had not yet gone out—there
comes a voice in the night calling Samuel’s name.
Every parent knows the experience too well—the
call of a voice in the night—the voice that calls “Mommy” or
“Daddy”—the voice that wakes you from your sleep and you jump
out of bed and head for the source—Sounds in the night are like that—although
sometimes we are not sure if they are real or not. Samuel heard a voice call
his name—He assumed it was the old priest Eli so he runs to him only to
be told he must be dreaming—go back to sleep—A short time later the
voice calls again and Samuel responds only to be told by Eli to go back to sleep—A
third time it happens and this time the old priest has a suspicion as to what
is happening and he tells Samuel to open himself to God. A fourth time the voice
calls Samuel—this time Samuel listens and hears God speak—hears God
speak a word of judgment against the family of old Eli—but God also brings
promise to Samuel if he can deliver the word faithfully.
As I think of our world today I find myself contemplating
over and over the opening words of our first lessons—“The word of
the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.” In a world
and time before publishing and media it is true that the word would have been
hard to come by—but today? Our world is filled with words and some of those
words—actually many of those words are found in Bibles—still the most
published book in the world today—Our world is filled with the Word of
God—unfortunately not so well read or heard—and the voices of the
prophets echo from the past recast by living voices that proclaim the prophetic
visions again and again. We have the gift of centuries of visions for a new
world—visions that benefit from the lessons both good and bad of years
gone by.—We have prophets who speak to us from the grave in words still
alive—with words and visions we remember and commemorate—Voices that
came out of the darkness to lighten our world. We are still learning to listen—and
some hear the voices more clearly than others. In the night time of our racism
comes a voice with a vision of a promised land—A prophet’s mountain
top vision where he saw that one day children of all colors could live and work
and play together.
While tomorrow is intended as a holiday to honor
Dr. King’s memory—the true meaning of the day is found in those who
fully hear the voice and embrace the vision—a vision of unity in diversity.—a
vision that strives to remove the barriers that divide us—a vision that
may not always please us as it calls us to admit the truth about our past..
There are voices in the night that many would try to shout down—visions
that are recast in attempts to turn them again into the nightmares of the past.
It is so easy to fall asleep— We drift off again and again— Into the
night of our neglect and self denial about the damage we do to God’s creation—In
a world constantly threatened by pollution and exploitation there come the voices—voices
of scientists and conservationists who call us to embrace the beauty and wonder
of creation—voices that call us to turn from the self serving abuse of
resources to explore new ways to better use the gifts God gives us.
But it is so easy to fall asleep—To close
our eyes and find ourselves again in the night of our selfishness and egoism—Waiting
for a voice that calls us to see ourselves as but one people upon an increasingly
small planet where the cries for fresh water, food and an end to the violence
of oppressing power call for a vision that goes beyond the comfortable definitions
of national priorities and privileged interests. It is easy to fall asleep—
When my children were younger I tended to not make much noise when I entered
a room where they might be playing—part of the reason was that I wanted
to catch them at what they were doing—sometimes good—sometimes not
so good. If it was good I didn’t want to interrupt or distract them. One
summer my brother and I worked for a neighbor clearing out and painting an old
shed—I remember over hearing him telling my parents what hard workers we
were—How every time he checked on us we were hard at it—He didn’t
realize that one of his boots had a loose heel that clicked loudly when he walked—And
I don’t think he ever entered a room without first stopping to clear his
throat with a loud cough—Even if my brother and I had taken a break—When
we heard the clicking and coughing we always got back to work.
I think there was a time when God was much noisier
about entering the world—there were firery prophets and visions—but
lately God seems to have gotten quieter—or maybe we have just gotten louder
and less willing to listen. If I were God today I would be making lots of noise.
Sometimes I am convinced God just needs to wake us up—to get our attention
again. But getting someone’s attention is not always easy—and getting
them to respond even harder.
In our Gospel lesson for today we have the story
of Jesus calling disciples to follow him. First he calls Philip—Now to
anyone who has ever served on the church council nominating committee this story
has to sound like one of the greatest pieces of fiction writing ever created—Jesus
comes up to Philip and says, “Follow me” and Philip follows—not
only follows but finds his friend Nathaniel and invites him to follow too. I’m
told it takes a lot of telephone calls to get a complete slate for the church
council—it is a rare telephone call that receives an immediate positive
response. Yet Philip followed and went to get Nathaniel—at this point the
story finally becomes more realistic.—Nathaniel’s response is not
to immediately follow but to ask, “Why?” Why follow someone from a
back water town like Nazareth when there are brilliant philosophers from Greece—Religious
leaders from Jerusalem—Great military and social leaders from Rome—Why
follow someone from a place not even big enough to be considered a suburb. But
Philip persists and Nathaniel yields to his friend.
What follows is one of those curious exchanges
where I think you had to be there to really appreciate it—Jesus greets
Nathaniel by acknowledging him as a good man of the true faith of Israel—Nathaniel
is put off by this greeting that appears to him to be overly solicitous and
Nathaniel responds by saying basically, “What do you know about me?”
Which is when Jesus reveals his hand—declaring that he knows Nathaniel
inside out—including where he was before Philip came to him. Some have
understood this as some magical act of mind reading or great omniscience—but
what it really appears to be is an honest encounter by Nathaniel with himself.
Jesus reveals to Nathaniel nothing so much miraculous as honest—This is
the stuff of the emperor’s new clothes—seeing as God sees—the
prophet’s vision that says again and again—“Why not.”
We tend most often to think of the prophet today
as someone who confronts a social or political issue—challenges us to approach
it in a way we may not find all that comfortable. Issues of hunger—war—racism—economic
development—the environment—war and peace all seem to compete and
clash as we strive to find solutions to the problems of our world. What we often
forget is that prophets came into the world not focused on social issues but
on faith—Samuel was sleeping at the foot of the ancient throne of God—Jesus
invited Philip to follow the way of a rabbi’s disciple—a way of study
of God’s word and prayerful rituals of faith.
Half way through writing this sermon yesterday,
I took a nap—I’ll be honest—I was hoping to hear a voice—a
word—something that would be truly great to announce to you—unfortunately
my nap was interrupted not by the voice of God calling or even the sound of
one of my children—my sleep was interrupted as almost any moment spent
at home is interrupted these days—by the sound of a telephone ringing and
the voice of a salesman making me an offer that he said would change my life—What
a world we live in—to have your sleep interrupted by a call that will change
your life—and all I had to do was say yes to his offer—I wondered,
“Could anything really that good come from my telephone?” And then
I remembered the Gospel lesson—and I listened again real close to the offer—and
then I hung up and went back to writing my sermon. When the phone rang for Samuel
it was not a call to action—he was first called to learn to recognize the
voice of God—Later he would lead armies and anoint kings—but first
he had to learn to listen to God.
That is where our ministry begins—in listening
to God—discerning God’s word for this day and time and place. What
we are building here at Holy Spirit must be first and foremost a place for children
and adults to learn to hear the voice of God. We need to become listeners for
the word—so that even in our sleep we can hear God calling. The church
council members—choir members—Sunday school teachers—each is
first a listener for God and second a prophet of the word—one who speaks
for God that which they have heard. And in the proclaiming comes a wonderful
moment of revelation—It happened to Nathaniel—When Jesus spoke to
him a word that was suddenly truer than any word he had ever heard before then
he knew what he had to do—he had to follow—it was not enough to simply
hear—he had to respond.
Each year the people of Israel would gather at
Shiloh to renew the covenant—it was a promise of faith.
We have institutionalized the ritual but the purpose is still the same—an
annual meeting of the congregation will be held today—a gathering of the
people to renew the commitment of faith that brings us to this place. There
is miracle in this moment—the miracle of God calling and gathering those
who really have nothing in common except their faith—a gathering not just
of this community but of saints around the world listening for the voice of
God.
Amen.