Listening in a Noisy World (19.A)

We live in a noisy world. In fact, many people have noticed that life got quieter when the pandemic shut down the planes and reduced the traffic. But it didn’t last long.  

And the noise isn’t only the kind that hits your eardrums. This is a time of noisy ideas.

Lately in the U.S. it seems like a contest to see who can shout the loudest. And Canada has the same problem on a smaller scale.

Sometimes, we wish God would just straighten everything out. A few booming words from Heaven would help us know what’s right and what’s wrong, where we need to go in these confusing times.

Maybe it would help if we could see Jesus walking on the water. But if we read today’s Gospel carefully, it wasn’t exactly an easy experience for poor St. Peter. Even the sight of Jesus and his calming words “it is I, do not be afraid” wasn’t enough for him.

So how do we get away from the noise and find the peace that we need in our frantic world? The story of Elijah in our first reading has an answer: it shows how the Lord works with most of us, most of the time. We’re looking for fireworks, but what we get is “a sound of sheer silence.”

The sound of silence is one translation, but there are others. Another version of the Bible says Elijah heard “a still, small, voice”, another “a tiny whispering sound”, and still another “the sound of a gentle breeze”.

Have you ever heard those sounds? Only if you were listening carefully. And in our noisy world, we’re more likely to expect God to speak at the top of his voice.

To appreciate what a great this story is, and how much it can teach us, we need to understand that Elijah is not in the cave making a spiritual retreat. He’s not taking a day off to rest up from his work as a prophet. An evil king is pursuing him, to kill him. He’s running for his life.

And he was afraid.

The story makes it clear he was really afraid. He wished he were dead – he had lost hope.

But strengthened by an Angel, he kept moving and ended up in the cave. And then…  the Lord came to him.

I would love to meet the prophet Elijah and ask him how he felt standing at the mouth of that cave. He’d just had a frustrating and probably terrifying experience. He expected the Lord to pass by—to be present to him in his distress. But he wasn’t there.

A powerful hurricane was a logical place to look for the all-powerful God. Christians know that on Pentecost the apostles heard the sound of a mighty wind. But Elijah didn’t find God in the storm.

And then an earthquake. Another reasonable place to encounter God, who threatens to shake the earth in a prophecy of Isaiah and another of Ezekiel. But the Lord was not in the earthquake.

Neither did he appear in the form of fire, though we know that’s just what he did when he appeared to Moses in the burning bush.

Instead, the sound of silence. Or a still smile voice, or a gentle murmuring sound—take your pick.

To hear the voice of God, to receive God’s direction in his desperate situation, Elijah had to listen. And not just listen—he had to listen carefully.

And so do we.

God’s guidance and compassion may sometimes come when we attend a big conference or hear a famous preacher on YouTube. Spiritual earthquakes or spiritual fireworks aren’t unheard-of. But most of the time we will hear God speaking when we’re quiet enough to listen in the silence of our hearts.

How do we do that? I can think of three things right away.

First, turn off your phone. Trying to pray with my iPhone in my pocket is one the dumbest things I do—and I do it pretty often.

Second, find a cave. Not literally a cave, in case you disturb a hibernating bear. But a place to hide out—which can be this church, which is open seven days a week, or a room in your house with a door that locks. Or your own living room, if you make sure you’re the first one up in the morning.

Finally, listen with the ear of your heart.  We find those words at the very beginning of the Rule of St. Benedict. We need to tune in on God’s frequency, which we don’t only do in times of prayer.

God speaks through what happens in our daily lives. At the start of each day the Church prays Psalm 95 in the Liturgy of the Hours, the Divine Office. That psalm says “Today, listen to the voice of the Lord.”

We can miss his message if we’re no listening for it. A simple example: I was writing this homily after a very demanding week and looking ahead to another just as tough. A parishioner dropped a handmade card with one of my favourite scriptures through the mail slot. And inside was a second card, as gorgeous of the first, celebrating Dr. Bonnie Henry.

I could take that as a random act of kindness. Or, if I’m listening, I might be like Elijah and recognize the Lord speaking a word of encouragement and blessing.

I chose the second option. It answered the prayer in today’s Psalm: “Let me hear what God the Lord will speak, for he will speak peace to his people.”