Deuteronomy 18:15-20, Psalm 111, and Mark 1:21-28
Upon Further Reflection
One of our church members left the sanctuary laughing on Sunday. After my sermon on silence, she said, "You sure can tell you don't live alone!" It's true. This sermon is very much a product of someone who does not live alone. But I have to say in thinking about it, I have never lived alone, even when no one else was with me. I have always had enough inner chatter and reflection to take up the space of a couple roommates or family members. The sermon says less about the people who populate my house and work than it does about what goes on in my inner life. They are related to be sure. My inner life is a place of constant conversation: talking and listening and meeting needs. (In fact, I recently started playing a musical instrument so I could take a break from my thoughts. I was surprised to discover it works!)
This woman's observation speaks a wide truth: all of us experience the quiet differently. For some, we fight the quiet even as we crave it (that's the sermon). For others, we have made friends with the quiet, many times after a loss. It comforts us now. Still others experience too much quiet and not enough connection. Remember what I said about isolation as a spiritual crisis?
Each of us knows something about silence the rest of us need. My gift to this church is an active inner life that supports my teaching and preaching and accompaniment. I wrestle my world for the quiet I get. I am not the only one with a restlessness inner life in this church. And you too are a gift to us. If you have too much quiet, you know something the rest of us need to remember about loneliness. You are a gift to us as well. If you are at peace with the quiet, than you have an essential way of being that will nurture the rest of us when we feel chaotic inside. Your gift is the stillness God has cultivated in you. You ground this faith community.
Our relationship to silence is not straight forward. It changes over time. This week was an invitation to pause and wonder: where am I right now? What Word of God works on me in the silence? What do I know that others may not because of the way I am quiet?