Learning to Listen--March 4, 2025
"Just as [Moses and Elijah] were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, 'Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah'--not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, 'This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!' When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen." (Luke 9:33-36)
Silence is uncomfortable. I suspect all of us at one time or another feel awkward when things get quiet.
I think at least part of the reason that we aren't comfortable with being silent is that it forces us out of the position of having the answers and knowing what is going on, or at least telling ourselves that we know what is going on. "We chirp theories like chickadees," wrote the late Walter Wangerin, Jr., "because ignorance is terrifying and we need the noise." He was right.
But when life compels us to be silent--or when someone or something interrupts us while we are talking and forces us to be quiet--we are pushed out of our comfort zones at least in part because it reveals we are not in control of everything. Being silent often goes hand in hand with listening to others, and letting others speak can make us skittish because we are brought into their perspective and their understanding, which may not be the same as our own. How much more so when it is God who silences us and compels us to listen to a different perspective, forcing us to admit both to our Creator and ourselves that we didn't know what we were talking about. That's hard, because it's both humbling and disorienting. And yet, it is quite often an avoidable part of discipleship, because we will regularly find Jesus showing us--lovingly, but without pulling punches--that it is time for us to stop speaking so that we can listen to what he would tell us.
That literally happens here in this climactic moment from the story that many of us heard this past Sunday of the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountaintop. As Jesus' appearance changes (revealing who he really is and has been all along) and the great prophetic figures of Moses and Elijah appear, alongside of him, Jesus' inner circle of disciples are dumbfounded. And when the moment appears to be ending and these two biblical celebrities seem to be ready to depart (maybe they are putting their coats on or reaching for their keys?), Simon Peter blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "Hold up a minute, Lord! It's perfect that I'm here, because I can help build a little shelter or hut for each of you three, and we can all stay up here on the mountain forever!"
There's nothing sinful or wicked about Simon Peter's impulsive offer. But, as Luke the narrator points out, ol' Pete didn't know what he was saying. He was doing his darnedest to get a grip on the moment and make sense of what was happening, and some part of his definitely wanted to hold onto Moses and Elijah for as long as possible. But he didn't know what to say, so he just said... anything. And in response, Luke tells us, the literal voice of God from an enveloping cloud interrupts Simon Peter and silences him. God speaks, making it clear to Simon Peter that this is a time for him to listen, not to speak--and that this is a moment for him to give up the illusion of being in control, rather than trying to call the shots. It was, Luke tells us, terrifying--and yet it was necessary. God wasn't trying to scare Simon Peter or James and John, but rather to remind them that this was not a moment they could master or dissect or diagram. This wasn't a time for them to speak up, but rather to step back and allow God to speak. You can't become an expert in Mystery; you can only be still enough to listen when Mystery speaks.
Like I say, though, that's uncomfortable for all of us, whether you are a first-century disciple or a twenty-first century one. We want to believe that we have the 'right' answers, if only everyone else will listen to us (God included!), and instead, God often puts a finger to the divine lips and tells us to hush--so that we can listen without the illusion of thinking we know it all. We do not.
I'm reminded of a prayer written by the Catholic mystic of the last century, Thomas Merton, who said it this way: "My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following Your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing...." That's a hard prayer to pray honestly, because it is very difficult for any of us to face the truth which Merton names: that just because we think we are following God's will doesn't mean that we actually are. Wow. That's hard.
That's how things go for this inner circle of disciples, though, for sure, isn't it? Certainly there up on the mountain, Peter thinks he is completely in line with God's will proposing to set up a little motel for Jesus, Moses, Elijah and himself--only to be silenced. But it will happen again when James and John ask Jesus later on if they can have the spots at his left and right hand in glory, only to have Jesus remind them that he doesn't deal in favoritism, prestige, or nepotism like that. And they'll ask him later on if they should call down fire from heaven when there is a village of Samaritans who haven't welcomed Jesus, and he'll tell them once again to close their mouths and listen to him instead. And ultimately in the garden on the night of Jesus' betrayal, Simon Peter will think he is doing God's will getting out his sword to slash at the lynch-mob and religious police who have come to arrest Jesus, only to have Jesus himself silence Peter and then heal the man who Peter had struck with his sword. Over and over again, even Jesus' closest friends and innermost circle of disciples have to have God bring them to silence and remind them that they do not have all the answers they think they possess. How can we possibly imagine that we will do any better at getting it right?
Maybe the challenge for this day, then, is to learn to listen, which will also mean learning to be quiet enough to let God speak--including listening to the other people through whom God might be trying to get through to us. Maybe before we go off making pronouncements about how God must be at work in the world, or whose side God is on, or which exclusive mountaintops God wants us to build little clubs for the religiously elite on top of, perhaps we should let God stop our mouths from moving long enough for us to listen. Perhaps we need to admit how few solid answers we really have and instead keep turning to the living God, who will surprise us every time.
A lot of folks in the watching world have heard us Respectable Religious Folks spouting off all of our certainties about God, the world, and who gets to stay in the prime spots next to Jesus. And I think they have heard enough to know that we don't have nearly as many right answers as we often think we do. I suspect, too, that an awful lot of the folks around us have decided they don't want to hear what we have to say because we have never been willing to listen to anybody else, either. What difference might it make in our witness to the world around if we were willing to be silent sometimes, and to listen to the voices around us, for the mere possibility that God might be trying to get through to us through them? What might change if we committed to some quiet contemplation and active listening when we find ourselves in a new situation or in the face of Mystery, rather than rushing to explain or issue declarations? What if we were willing to admit we weren't in control and instead let the living Christ teach us in those moments?
As much as that might make us uncomfortable, it might just bring us into the very presence of God.
O God, close our mouths and open our ears. Speak, and make us to listen.
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