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| Last Epiphany 26 February, 2006 The Rev. Robert C. Granfeldt |
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What a confusing season this has been – both seasons, actually: the winter season,
out there, and the Epiphany Season in here. What with What with snow, and viruses,
and the unfortunate goings on in the Diocese, it’s been next to impossible to
establish any kind of continuity or consistency – in fact, it’s been three Sundays since
I have mounted this Pulpit!
And now here we are at the last Sunday after the Epiphany, and just three days
before the beginning of Lent!
But we find ourselves met with Lessons that actually help to tie this season together
a bit, while they help us anticipate the next!
You may recall that back at the beginning of the Epiphany Season – on the Second
Sunday after the Epiphany – we had a lesson from the First Book of Samuel, with the
young boy, Samuel, hearing the Lord call his name in the middle of the night,
mistakenly thinking it was his master and mentor – until he learned to listen! A couple
of weeks later I came back to that lesson to speak to you about prayer, and at that
time I recalled another lesson – one from First Kings – that was likewise about
listening!
And now, here it is! Here is the prophet Elijah, running from the king’s pursuit –
running for his life – and coming at last to Mt. Horeb where he is told to go out from
the cave where he’s hiding and the Lord would speak to him. And there he listens in
the wind, and in the earthquake and in the fire, expecting to hear the voice of the
Lord, but hearing nothing… until, finally, in the silence that follows, he hears the
“still, small voice,” speaking to him in his own heart, his own mind!
Both stories are among the best antidotes I know of to the common misconception
that God speaking entails some kind of big, impressive, flashy, even supernatural
“show!” It’s a misconception fostered, in part, by the Scriptures, themselves, with so
many spectacular scenes of God’s communication with his people – burning bushes
and flashes of lightning!
It’s a misconception, in fact, that even the Apostles of our Lord were prone to.
In today’s Gospel, from St. Mark – but a story that’s told in all three of the synoptic
Gospels – Jesus is in the midst of a mission involving much teaching and preaching,
with miracles of healing and miracles of loaves and fishes. Now he goes apart from
the crowds, as he often does, for prayer – but this time he takes his three closest
friends with him, Peter and James and John. And there, on the mountain side, the
three have an amazing experience, as – in their sight – Jesus is suddenly
transfigured before them, and appears to them to be talking with Elijah and Moses!
Peter offers to build three tents, one for each of them! But the most telling comment
comes only in the version described from St. Luke, when he adds, as Peter makes his
offer, “for he did not know what he was saying!” At that they hear a voice from
heaven saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him,” whereupon they fall
down in a faint! And when they come to themselves…, there is nothing!
They’ve come to the mountainside full of expectations! They’ve come, like Elijah on
the mountainside, expecting to see great things, marvelous things! When Jesus
leaves them to themselves and goes aside to pray, their expectations take over and
they see what they expected to see – awesome sights, miraculous sights. And Peter,
overcome with what he’s seeing makes his offer – an offer to “do something” – “not
knowing what he was saying”.
And then they blinked – and it was gone.
All gone!
There was no Moses, no Elijah. There was no voice booming. There was no fiery
glory. There was only the Master; only Jesus, the Christ. And they had missed, again,
as those poor Apostles – and especially Peter – had missed so many times, the real
value of what he was trying to teach them, what he’d brought them up there with him
to learn.
They went for the special effects, and they missed the reality. They went for activity –
and missed the miracle of stillness!
We live in a world that’s starved for real spirituality; in a Church that needs to learn
to pray. But like Elijah, like Peter and James and John, we need to start from the
beginning. We need to learn and to relearn to put aside our expectations. We need to
quiet our world – go away from the storms, the earthquakes and fires of life, and of
expectation. We need to learn to quiet our selves; to stop doing; to stop talking –
even, and especially, the talking that goes on in our own heads!
And we need to listen! To learn to listen. To learn and to relearn that listening is both
the beginning of prayer and the heart of prayer.
Today is called the Last Sunday After the Epiphany, and Wednesday is the beginning
of Lent – Ash Wednesday. And so we end this season of the Church year as we
began: confronted by our lessons with that basic element of faith and of prayer: the
call to listen; the need to hear. The need, as God tells the Psalmist in Psalm 46, to “be
still, and know that I am God;” and in Isaiah, “in quietness and in trust shall be your
strength.”
In last month’s Chimes I asked for suggestions as to what sort of Lenten program you
would like to have this year. I’ve received no suggestions, to date – and only one
person has even asked if there would be a program, though with no idea as to what
that might be.
After five years of Lenten programs, we seemed to have run out of steam, so last
year I offered none. I had hoped that after a year with no Lenten offering, this year we
would have a clamor for something. But to date, no! And I fear that we have come to a
period in our parish life when programs of the former type just will not work, any
more.
So I’m going to propose something a little new and different – a kind of personalized
Lenten program.
Beginning next week, and continuing through Palm Sunday, I will meet, immediately
after each service, in the Undercroft, for just ten minutes, or so, to consult, to
discuss, to share, and to suggest, with anyone who wants to participate in a season
of learning, and of practicing, prayer – beginning with stillness and listening; each
week proposing to you an exercise or discipline in the practice of prayer. It will be an
easy program, a simple program – for what could become a profound experience!
So…, the offer is simple: if you’d like to do this as your Lenten program – starting
next Sunday, just hang around for a few minutes after the service; I’ll be right with
you!
But whether you choose to participate or not, do resolve to set aside this Lent to
begin, again, to learn to be quiet – to quiet your world, to quiet your life, to quiet your
own voice, your own mind – so that you can begin to enter more deeply into prayer.
Set aside this lent to begin, again, to learn to listen – to listen to the voice of God,
which is speaking to you right now, to the voice of God, which never ceases to speak
to you.
Set aside this lent to begin to learn to be aware – to be aware of the presence of God
in your world, in your life, right now, and in every moment of your life.
Set aside this lent to begin, anew, to learn to pray.
In Jesus’ Christ’s Name. Amen
out there, and the Epiphany Season in here. What with What with snow, and viruses,
and the unfortunate goings on in the Diocese, it’s been next to impossible to
establish any kind of continuity or consistency – in fact, it’s been three Sundays since
I have mounted this Pulpit!
And now here we are at the last Sunday after the Epiphany, and just three days
before the beginning of Lent!
But we find ourselves met with Lessons that actually help to tie this season together
a bit, while they help us anticipate the next!
You may recall that back at the beginning of the Epiphany Season – on the Second
Sunday after the Epiphany – we had a lesson from the First Book of Samuel, with the
young boy, Samuel, hearing the Lord call his name in the middle of the night,
mistakenly thinking it was his master and mentor – until he learned to listen! A couple
of weeks later I came back to that lesson to speak to you about prayer, and at that
time I recalled another lesson – one from First Kings – that was likewise about
listening!
And now, here it is! Here is the prophet Elijah, running from the king’s pursuit –
running for his life – and coming at last to Mt. Horeb where he is told to go out from
the cave where he’s hiding and the Lord would speak to him. And there he listens in
the wind, and in the earthquake and in the fire, expecting to hear the voice of the
Lord, but hearing nothing… until, finally, in the silence that follows, he hears the
“still, small voice,” speaking to him in his own heart, his own mind!
Both stories are among the best antidotes I know of to the common misconception
that God speaking entails some kind of big, impressive, flashy, even supernatural
“show!” It’s a misconception fostered, in part, by the Scriptures, themselves, with so
many spectacular scenes of God’s communication with his people – burning bushes
and flashes of lightning!
It’s a misconception, in fact, that even the Apostles of our Lord were prone to.
In today’s Gospel, from St. Mark – but a story that’s told in all three of the synoptic
Gospels – Jesus is in the midst of a mission involving much teaching and preaching,
with miracles of healing and miracles of loaves and fishes. Now he goes apart from
the crowds, as he often does, for prayer – but this time he takes his three closest
friends with him, Peter and James and John. And there, on the mountain side, the
three have an amazing experience, as – in their sight – Jesus is suddenly
transfigured before them, and appears to them to be talking with Elijah and Moses!
Peter offers to build three tents, one for each of them! But the most telling comment
comes only in the version described from St. Luke, when he adds, as Peter makes his
offer, “for he did not know what he was saying!” At that they hear a voice from
heaven saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him,” whereupon they fall
down in a faint! And when they come to themselves…, there is nothing!
They’ve come to the mountainside full of expectations! They’ve come, like Elijah on
the mountainside, expecting to see great things, marvelous things! When Jesus
leaves them to themselves and goes aside to pray, their expectations take over and
they see what they expected to see – awesome sights, miraculous sights. And Peter,
overcome with what he’s seeing makes his offer – an offer to “do something” – “not
knowing what he was saying”.
And then they blinked – and it was gone.
All gone!
There was no Moses, no Elijah. There was no voice booming. There was no fiery
glory. There was only the Master; only Jesus, the Christ. And they had missed, again,
as those poor Apostles – and especially Peter – had missed so many times, the real
value of what he was trying to teach them, what he’d brought them up there with him
to learn.
They went for the special effects, and they missed the reality. They went for activity –
and missed the miracle of stillness!
We live in a world that’s starved for real spirituality; in a Church that needs to learn
to pray. But like Elijah, like Peter and James and John, we need to start from the
beginning. We need to learn and to relearn to put aside our expectations. We need to
quiet our world – go away from the storms, the earthquakes and fires of life, and of
expectation. We need to learn to quiet our selves; to stop doing; to stop talking –
even, and especially, the talking that goes on in our own heads!
And we need to listen! To learn to listen. To learn and to relearn that listening is both
the beginning of prayer and the heart of prayer.
Today is called the Last Sunday After the Epiphany, and Wednesday is the beginning
of Lent – Ash Wednesday. And so we end this season of the Church year as we
began: confronted by our lessons with that basic element of faith and of prayer: the
call to listen; the need to hear. The need, as God tells the Psalmist in Psalm 46, to “be
still, and know that I am God;” and in Isaiah, “in quietness and in trust shall be your
strength.”
In last month’s Chimes I asked for suggestions as to what sort of Lenten program you
would like to have this year. I’ve received no suggestions, to date – and only one
person has even asked if there would be a program, though with no idea as to what
that might be.
After five years of Lenten programs, we seemed to have run out of steam, so last
year I offered none. I had hoped that after a year with no Lenten offering, this year we
would have a clamor for something. But to date, no! And I fear that we have come to a
period in our parish life when programs of the former type just will not work, any
more.
So I’m going to propose something a little new and different – a kind of personalized
Lenten program.
Beginning next week, and continuing through Palm Sunday, I will meet, immediately
after each service, in the Undercroft, for just ten minutes, or so, to consult, to
discuss, to share, and to suggest, with anyone who wants to participate in a season
of learning, and of practicing, prayer – beginning with stillness and listening; each
week proposing to you an exercise or discipline in the practice of prayer. It will be an
easy program, a simple program – for what could become a profound experience!
So…, the offer is simple: if you’d like to do this as your Lenten program – starting
next Sunday, just hang around for a few minutes after the service; I’ll be right with
you!
But whether you choose to participate or not, do resolve to set aside this Lent to
begin, again, to learn to be quiet – to quiet your world, to quiet your life, to quiet your
own voice, your own mind – so that you can begin to enter more deeply into prayer.
Set aside this lent to begin, again, to learn to listen – to listen to the voice of God,
which is speaking to you right now, to the voice of God, which never ceases to speak
to you.
Set aside this lent to begin to learn to be aware – to be aware of the presence of God
in your world, in your life, right now, and in every moment of your life.
Set aside this lent to begin, anew, to learn to pray.
In Jesus’ Christ’s Name. Amen
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| Calvary Episcopal Church, Rockdale |
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