Speaking to the Silence

I am not going to preach the gospel today. I'm hardly going to preach at all. Shannon wanted me to, he thought I should go right to the sticking place and address the fact that it has Jesus saying the first generation of followers would live to see the end of the world. That isn't what Advent is about though. This isn't the time in our lives set aside to tear apart inadequacies. This is the time of our lives set aside to listen to the silence. It is a time to reflect on our longing for connection with God, in anticipation of our celebration of God's way out of that separation. When the scribes of Matthew wrote into the gospel that they would see the return of Jesus, they were giving us a concrete example of the feeling of longing. Even amongst those who knew Jesus, even the experience of God in human form did not diminish the feeling of being apart from Him. Meditating on this divide is the work we are meant to do during Advent.

The longing to bridge the silence with God did not start after the Ascension of Christ. That longing has been there since God pulled Adam from the dust. In the casting out from Eden, the slavery of Egypt, the exile of the Babylonians, the oppression of the Romans, the Protestant Reformation, even our troubles in the Anglican Communion now, we are beseeching God to answer our pleas. We want to be in accord with God's will, we just don't know what to do.

The old testament reading from Isaiah is a powerful statement of the pain of waiting for God to speak. Just listen.
“O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,
so that the mountains would quake at your presence-
as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil-”
Where is our burning bush?
“When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect,
you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence.”
We have no Moses. We have no intermediary. Come anyway.
“But you were angry, and we sinned; because you hid yourself we transgressed.”
Without your presence, we have no choice but to do the wrong thing.
“Do not be exceedingly angry, O Lord,
and do not remember iniquity forever.”
We are sorry, Lord God, please forgive us.
“After all this, will you restrain yourself, O Lord?
Will you keep silent, and punish us so severely?”
Speak to me. Speak to me God.

For this writer, I cannot think, having read ahead, that God ever answered. But out here, past the end of the book, somewhere in the midst of the story, we know that there was an answer. Although the author of this lament could not know it, God could not keep silent; he did answer. He sent his Son, to say, see me. See how the divine can meet in the flesh. Do these things, do them in my name, and in the doing, you will never be alone again.

I have been meditating on this by reading a little book by Barbara Brown Taylor called, When God is Silent. I haven't spoken to any one idea or illustration I got from this book. But the realization that Advent is the time to embrace the silence is the result of my understanding of the central question of this book; what does it means to speak authentically when God is silent more often than not in our lives? I just wanted to be sure to credit it somewhere along the way.

This is the time, in the cycle of the church year, in the life of our parish, and in our own lives, to stop, to sit, to wait, and to listen to the silence. Silent is not the same as alone. Silence is, in fact, the most essential element of any conversation. If someone is not listening, then all of our speech is for nothing.

Be in the silence this Advent. Even though it is hard, even though there are only 27 more shopping days until Christmas. Even though the rest of the world is making more noise than usual, we must give ourselves this time to be listen to the silence. Because if we don't hear the silence, we never have the chance to hear the answer.