Sound of Silence
In the current state of the world where it’s been demonstrated that overt segregation and hatred of different people groups is not only accepted, but practiced by those in political power, this song by Simon and Garfunkel has come to mind. I’m probably too young to fully appreciate it, but you can, ironically, listen to here. https://youtu.be/4zLfCnGVeL4
While the message of the song isn’t totally in line with my current train of thought for this blog, one of the lines that’s stuck in my mind says, “Hear my words that I might teach you, Take my arms that I might reach you.” At the same time this song has been running around my head, I’ve been noodling over the story of Elijah and his pity party in the cave when he goes out to witness God’s passing by found in 1 Kings 19:9b-13.
In doing some research about this passage, I came across an interpretation that talks about this gentle whisper in a slightly different way than I’ve heard before. The NRSV translation of verse 12 says, “And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.” (emphasis mine) Perhaps the sound of silence was not a whisper after all, but a space of nothing, a true pause in the natural disasters of this world. Maybe it was the silence itself that was God speaking to Elijah. And if so, when do we pause long enough for God to speak to us through the silence?
Or maybe it is only in the silence of everything else around us that the word of God can find space to speak to us. “And the vision, that was planted in my brain…still remains within the sound of silence…Hear my words that I might teach you.” Silence, then, gives a place for the Word to be spoken, welcomed, and given sanctuary in our hearts. While I am not Catholic, this interpretation I found also pulls from Verbum Domini, a document that Pope Benedict XVI wrote in which he expressed, “Silence can carve out an inner space in our very depths to enable God to dwell there, so that his word will remain within us and love for him take root in our minds and hearts and inspire our life.”
This silence, whether how God is speaking or creating the room for God to speak, leads to John Wesley’s commentary on the passage. He interprets the pause after the grandiose as God reminding us that God will work in God’s own time, not in our time. And that work will be through God’s way of spirit moving, not our way of political will or wars to bring peace. “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit.” Zechariah 4:6
Lately, I’ve needed a reminder of the still whisper of God in our adoption story. I’m reminding God of my zealousness and pointing out the ways in which others have not measured up and feeling like I’m the only one left over here, rather than remembering who is the center of the narrative. And I’m so busy looking for God to move in the fire or earthquake that I miss God speaking to me through the spirit in the silence. When it seems I am running on a treadmill towards parenthood, it’s easy to ignore the ways in which my heart is being prepared, my stubbornness is being worn down, my selfishness is being reflected. I’m so anxious that I didn’t meet the time table that I set of having a child before I turned 30 that I forgot this isn’t my story; I am part of the larger story of the redemption of humanity back to Godself.
So while it may be tomorrow that I get to be a mom, or it may be 2 years from now, or it may be never, God continues to work on my pride and sinful tendencies in the inner spaces created by the sound of silence. I invite you to take a moment to pause and allow the silence to speak to you so your hearts and minds will be fertile ground for God's word and way of living to take root.
While the message of the song isn’t totally in line with my current train of thought for this blog, one of the lines that’s stuck in my mind says, “Hear my words that I might teach you, Take my arms that I might reach you.” At the same time this song has been running around my head, I’ve been noodling over the story of Elijah and his pity party in the cave when he goes out to witness God’s passing by found in 1 Kings 19:9b-13.
9b And the word of the Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” 10 He replied, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.” 11 The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. NIV
In doing some research about this passage, I came across an interpretation that talks about this gentle whisper in a slightly different way than I’ve heard before. The NRSV translation of verse 12 says, “And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.” (emphasis mine) Perhaps the sound of silence was not a whisper after all, but a space of nothing, a true pause in the natural disasters of this world. Maybe it was the silence itself that was God speaking to Elijah. And if so, when do we pause long enough for God to speak to us through the silence?
Or maybe it is only in the silence of everything else around us that the word of God can find space to speak to us. “And the vision, that was planted in my brain…still remains within the sound of silence…Hear my words that I might teach you.” Silence, then, gives a place for the Word to be spoken, welcomed, and given sanctuary in our hearts. While I am not Catholic, this interpretation I found also pulls from Verbum Domini, a document that Pope Benedict XVI wrote in which he expressed, “Silence can carve out an inner space in our very depths to enable God to dwell there, so that his word will remain within us and love for him take root in our minds and hearts and inspire our life.”
This silence, whether how God is speaking or creating the room for God to speak, leads to John Wesley’s commentary on the passage. He interprets the pause after the grandiose as God reminding us that God will work in God’s own time, not in our time. And that work will be through God’s way of spirit moving, not our way of political will or wars to bring peace. “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit.” Zechariah 4:6
Lately, I’ve needed a reminder of the still whisper of God in our adoption story. I’m reminding God of my zealousness and pointing out the ways in which others have not measured up and feeling like I’m the only one left over here, rather than remembering who is the center of the narrative. And I’m so busy looking for God to move in the fire or earthquake that I miss God speaking to me through the spirit in the silence. When it seems I am running on a treadmill towards parenthood, it’s easy to ignore the ways in which my heart is being prepared, my stubbornness is being worn down, my selfishness is being reflected. I’m so anxious that I didn’t meet the time table that I set of having a child before I turned 30 that I forgot this isn’t my story; I am part of the larger story of the redemption of humanity back to Godself.
So while it may be tomorrow that I get to be a mom, or it may be 2 years from now, or it may be never, God continues to work on my pride and sinful tendencies in the inner spaces created by the sound of silence. I invite you to take a moment to pause and allow the silence to speak to you so your hearts and minds will be fertile ground for God's word and way of living to take root.
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