Sermon for February 22, 2009

Sermon for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, February 22, 2009

These are hard times, the hardest times most of us have ever seen. People are losing their jobs and their homes, and there are dire predictions about the months ahead. Every family seems to have been touched in some way by this economic crisis. As difficult as these times are, maybe they will serve the purpose of reminding us what is really important in life and bring us together in new ways. One of my friends told me that she had assured her grown children, "As long as one of us has a house, we all have a house."

The collect for today asks for the Lord's help as we try to be changed into his likeness, and I think these hard times may offer us the very crucible we need for such a transfiguration. Looking and acting like the Lord may not be a high priority for most Americans when times are good. When we have ready money, we get busy with the business of life, spending our time, energy, and wealth as we pursue our life's dreams. And there is nothing really wrong with that, I guess, if we can juggle all of that spending and the Lord's work at the same time. It's probably just a matter of focusing our attention; however, the heavy losses people are now suffering will offer us both time and incentive to change our focus and simplify our lives.

I know that is easier said than done, of course, and I also know it is nearly impossible to feel hope or a sense of purpose when you are living in what feels like disaster. At such a time, we may find ourselves praying harder than we ever have, and we may wonder if God will answer our prayers. All of today's lessons speak to the issue of seeking God and hearing what he has to say.

In the lesson from 1st Kings, the prophet Elijah is under duress. He has done the tasks the Lord appointed for him, but in accomplishing the Lord's mission, Elijah has angered Queen Jezebel, who would very much like to be "rid of this troublesome priest." He has fled to Horeb, the holy mountain of God, and there Elijah does hear the Lord instructing him to make himself ready. As Elijah stands expectantly on the mountainside, "Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the LORD, but 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; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence." It is in the sound of sheer silence that Elijah can finally hear what has also been called, "the still, small voice of God."

It seems to me that the tumult of rock-splitting wind, of earthquake, and of fire could be a metaphor for the inner turmoil Elijah was experiencing. If that is the case, the lesson here is clear: if we really want to hear what the Lord has to say to us when we are most afraid, then we first have to still our emotions and settle our hearts. Once we are in that quieter, more peaceful state, we will be better able to listen to that still, small voice of reason and hope the Lord offers us. We have to make ourselves ready, as Elijah did, to receive the Word.

There are echoes of this instruction in today's psalm, Psalm 27: "You speak in my heart and say, 'Seek my face.' Your face, LORD, will I seek." In the quietness of our very hearts, the Lord will speak to us, if we are patient and attentive enough to hear. The psalm ends with these sweet words: "O tarry and await the LORD'S pleasure; be strong, and he shall comfort your heart; wait patiently for the LORD."

I have a habit of saving old issues of the Episcopal daily reader, Forward Day by Day. In the issue from February of 1994, I found this story by an anonymous writer: "It is easy to see God in a church. But God is in other places, too. I remember a time when I was observing a therapist working with a young woman who was having a psychotic episode. She was trapped in a nightmarish delusion and couldn't get back by herself. She was unaware of her surroundings, terrified by the phantoms she beheld. I watched as the therapist spoke gently to her; as she answered, her tortured descriptions of what she was seeing tumbled out of her mouth in anguished clumps. They spoke for a long time, he listening to her talk about what her mind was showing her. She grew quieter and began to cry a little. Then the therapist asked gently, 'Can you tell me where you are and who I am?' The girl did not answer for a time. Then she said, haltingly, 'I don't know where I am, but you are Dr. Smith.' In that moment I felt her cross over from her world of illusion into our world. It was as if Christ had reached over and helped her step across. She didn't know where she was, but she allowed herself to know the one who could help her return. In that moment, I felt as if I had witnessed one of Jesus's healing miracles. It was a bland, institutional-looking dormitory room in which we were sitting. But surely the Lord was in that place."

This beautiful, sad story of mental illness and healing has much to show us. Our inner demons of worry and fear and anxiety may torment us as much as this young woman's delusions terrified her. Yet, even when we are unable to feel God's presence, He is there with us, listening to us. And when we are finally able to be led to quiet peace, we will know the Lord and hear his voice.

This Sunday could also be called Transfiguration Sunday, since today's Gospel lesson from Mark is about that important event in the life of Christ. St. Peter was one of three disciples there with Jesus on the mountain when "he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus." Peter sounds out of his head when he suggests that they should build three dwellings for the holy ones and stay there. He has not yet grasped the fleeting nature of human contact with the divine. But he certainly remembers well hearing the voice of the Lord speak from the heavens, as he attests in his letter, our epistle for today. What did the Lord say? "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!"

In his letter, Peter, who has by now grown in wisdom and stature as Christ's designated leader of the early church, reminds all of us: "You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts." Listen. Be silent. Make your hearts quiet that they may receive the Lord's consolation. In a world full of crisis and conflict, achieving that kind of stillness may be a challenge. I believe it will be in such heartfelt silence that we will hear the voice of the Lord requiring us to reach out in loving kindness to those around us more desperate even than we. Our ability to respond in love will make us the shining ones to those who need us, and in that way we, too, will be transfigured into the likeness of the Lord.

Susan Hull