Called by God: Hard to Hear

Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.

At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down. The Lord called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” Then the Lord said to Samuel, “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle. On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them. Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever.”

Samuel lay there until morning; then he opened the doors of the house of the Lord. Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, “Samuel, my son.” He said, “Here I am.” Eli said, “What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.” So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. The Lord continued to appear at Shiloh, for the Lord revealed himself to Samuel at Shiloh by the word of the Lord. --1 Samuel 3:1-21 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God, our Creator, our Redeemer, our Sustainer. Amen.

It’s hard to hear God sometimes, isn’t it? Like Samuel, it’s hard to really hear God, isn’t it? We live in a world that is so full of noise, perhaps even more noise now than before the pandemic began. 

There was a time in the middle of these past many months when things quieted down. During the lockdown in the spring of last year. It felt, at least for some of us that things slowed down just a bit. Were a little less hectic. A time when we were just a little less busy. When we, perhaps, even had time to hear one another. I wonder if that’s why George Floyd’s death became such a turning point for us - because we were all listening. And seeing. And horrified by those 9 minutes of video. 

Yet, doesn’t it feel as though we are slipping so easily back into our old ways. Our old patterns. Perhaps even some of the things we vowed never to return to. The appointments that have us running from one thing to the next. Our work lives, or our retirement lives, that seem to be even busier than ever. When all of that time of listening to one another seems to have, once again, just fallen by the wayside.

I’ve been really stressed out this week, can you tell? There are a lot of reasons. It’s always hard to be away - it seems like the work is doubled up before leaving and doubled up on return. Then, to add to it, I signed up for a doctoral program in the midst of the pandemic. I’m wondering now why y’all of you didn’t step in and stop me from this nonsense.

But, honestly, what did we learn from the pandemic? Or did we learn anything from the pandemic? Did we learn anything about slowing down to listen? To ourselves? To one another? To God?

Listening is at the core of our text today in first Samuel - part of what is called the Deuteronomic history of Israel (say that five times fast). Walter Brueggemann describes this history as the story of Israel’s entry into the Promised Land, beginning in Joshua, through to the story of Israel’s loss of the Promised Land, ending in the book of Kings. We’ve taken a big jump from last week’s reading in the wilderness. Israel’s now entered that Promised Land and organized itself as a tribal nation - divided up into the twelve tribes, each governed by their own leadership. Our story today is in a time of transition from this tribal way of life into that of a monarchy, with only one king as leader. The book of Judges, which precedes First Samuel, ends with these words, “In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” It’s an ominous foreshadowing for the beginning of today’s reading, which opens with these words: “The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.” 

Was God’s Word rare because God wasn’t speaking? Or was, perhaps, God’s word rare because people weren’t listening? Because their lives were so filled by the noise of everyday life and busy-ness and other stuff that they simply couldn’t hear?

Eli - the high priest of God’s sacred tent in our story today - knew what God would ask Samuel to tell him. His sons were evil. Taking the temple sacrifice by force. And, depending on the translation, even raping women at the sanctuary door. Their sins were against God in God’s house. When we read this, it’s hard not to think of all of the stories of clergy abuse that have come to light over these past many years. Eli - like so many others in church leadership in our day - Eli knew his sons were evil. He’d been warned to stop them. But had done nothing. He’d closed his ears to God’s Word. His physical blindness mentioned in our story is nothing compared to his spiritual blindness. Eli isn’t listening. He isn’t seeing. And neither is anyone else. 

So it takes three times. Three calls from God to the young boy Samuel before Eli even recognizes what’s up. Before he is ready to hear and to encourage Samuel to listen. Speak Lord, for your servant is listening, Samuel finally says to God.

Are we listening? Are we prepared to hear what God might be calling us to? Not only in our own lives, but in the church and in our broader world? Are we, perhaps, being called into a new way of being - a new way that, like Samuel’s call, isn’t always easy? A new way that may require some hard conversations? Some hard discernment on our part? Some listening in the midst of the noise of our lives?

We have an opportunity in this moment. An opportunity to not return to that old way of life - that way of life, filled with so much noise that it blocks out the very voice and call of God. God is calling us out of the death of our former lives and into a resurrected and new way of life. A life that gives us the space to hear God’s voice and to live out our calling, as individuals regardless of age or experience, and as a church, in this new place and new way of being. A calling that proclaims to the whole world the amazing good news of life gifted to us by God in grace.

May we be open to this new way of life. And, like young Samuel, declare,” Speak Lord. For your servants are listening.” Amen.

Preached October 17, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

Pentecost 21

Readings: 1 Samuel 3:1-21; John 20:21-23

Invitation to Abundant Life: In Jesus (Part 1)

Grace and peace to you from our Savior Jesus, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.

A couple of weeks ago, when we heard the story of Nicodemus, I mentioned a commentary by Lindsey Trozzo, a professor of biblical ethics and rhetoric at Baylor University. In it, she suggested thinking of the Gospel of John as a multi-act play or a TV mini-series. As each chapter unfolds, we hear and see a new interaction. Sometimes it’s between Jesus and his disciples. Sometimes it's between Jesus and the Jewish leadership. Sometimes, as in last week’s lesson, it’s between Jesus and someone we might consider an outcast. With each interaction, with each encounter, it's as though a new act or a new episode begins. Each building one upon the other. Each part of a plot line that will, I suspect, eventually reach a turning point--a climax in theatre language--a point of great tension.

Today’s lesson offers us one more act from the Gospel of John. Another episode in the mini-series. An episode in seven scenes. 

Scene 1 (Read John 9:1-7). Our first scene opens upon Jesus, a blind man, and the disciples. Jesus sees the man. Blind from birth. A man who has never had sight. Not once seen a sunrise. Not once seen a wildflower. Not once seen the face of someone he loved.

Jesus sees him, though. The disciples do, too. But their focus isn’t on him, but on his sin. “Who sinned, Jesus? Was it him? Or his parents? Who sinned that he was born blind?” It’s an assumption made by them. That anyone with or stricken by a physical ailment or disability must be suffering because of sin--whether their own or that of a previous generation. It’s an assumption we still make today, don’t we? Of others. Sometimes, of ourselves. “What did I do wrong, God, to deserve this cancer?” we might ask ourselves.

But as we learned last week, sin, in John, isn’t a moral category. In John, sin is a category of relationship. And for this man--this blind man--his disability is an opportunity for God’s work to be revealed in him. An opportunity for relationship--for relationship with God present in the Word made flesh. Right there in front of him.

So, Jesus takes the dust of the earth. And with the dust and with his saliva, Jesus makes mud and rubs it onto his eyes. He sends him to wash. He does. And then he returns. With full eyesight.

Do you notice how the man listens to Jesus’ voice and follows his direction? Do you notice how the same dust that God used to create new life in Genesis gives this man new life, too? 

Scene 2 (Read John 9:8-12). As our second scene opens, Jesus and the disciples are no longer present. The man is, though. The man who is no longer blind. And with him a variety of people, moving in and out of the scene. Notice that all of the verbs in this scene are in the present tense. They describe what had been his daily reality.  Sitting. Begging. Every day and all day, fully dependent on others for his own survival. 

His neighbors cross-examine him. They ask how he regained his sight. “The man called Jesus,” he says. Do you notice here how he knows Jesus’ name?

What’s the first thing you do when you meet someone for the very first time? You ask their name. Knowing someone’s name is the first step of entering into relationship, isn’t it? “The man called Jesus,” he says. He now knows Jesus. The man.

But the man who now sees does not yet know Jesus, the divine. Not yet, at least.

Scene 3 (Read John 9:13-17). “He is a prophet.” This man, now called “formerly blind,” is truly beginning to see. As our scene develops, we watch the relationship grow and new understanding dawning.  The blind man is now beginning to know Jesus, the divine. And to witness to him. 
It’s not clear in our text whether he has even yet actually seen Jesus. He heard his voice and followed his request. Yet, even though Jesus is not physically present in this scene, the man’s “sight”--his spiritual eyesight is growing. Especially as he begins to witness to Jesus’ presence in his life.

In contrast, the Pharisees continue in their own spiritual blindness. “On a Sabbath!” They proclaim, stuck in their religious rules. Speaking of Jesus, they ask, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” How ironic it is that they, and not the formerly blind man, are the ones who lack true sight! 

How is your eyesight lately?

Scene 4 (Read John 9:18-23). In our fourth scene, the Jewish leaders don’t believe him at first--that he was ever blind. It is his parents who confirm this. “He was born blind.” When they are asked how his sight has been restored, they point back to their son. They do this, because they are afraid--afraid that if they say that Jesus has done this--that the Messiah has done this--they will be banished from the synagogue and, with it, from their entire social, religious and communal life.  
Do you recall, when we first began reading this gospel, who John’s audience was? The gospel was written for a group of believers who, because they chose to follow Jesus, had been cast out of the synagogue. Who chose to leave their families for good. Who in faith chose to separate themselves from every aspect of their lives. To follow Jesus.

I wonder if we would make the same choice.

Scene 5 (Read John 9:24-34). This second dialogue between the blind man and the Pharisees is longer. It will be the last. They ask him the same questions, as though he will give different answers. They lack eyesight. They don’t hear him witness to them.  

In his testimony, the blind man names it. It takes hearing. And sight. He calls out their deafness and their blindness to the reality that God--that their God, the God of Moses--is the one who has done this. The one who is revealing Godself in a whole new way. If only they would look and listen.

They don’t. They cast him out of the synagogue.

Scene 5 (Read John 9:35-38). As our next scene opens, Jesus, who has been absent since the healing, hears that the man has been cast out of the synagogue. He searches for him as the Good Shepherd searches for his sheep. He finds him. And when he does, Jesus asks him, “Do you believe? Do you believe in the Son of Man?” 

“Who is this Son of Man?” the blind man asks. We’ve heard this question from the beginning of the Gospel. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathaniel asked. “How can this be?” Nicodemus asked. “Can he be the one?” the Samaritan woman wonders.  Who is Jesus? 

“I AM.” In these words, Jesus fully reveals himself to the man, just as God revealed himself to Moses. What else is there to say, but “I believe!” 

This is what true relationship with Jesus looks like. What full recognition of Jesus is. It is an individual and gradual process that happens in dialogue with God. And, yes, sometimes even in confrontation. 

When we say, “Lord, I believe,” we are not only confessing our faith. Like the blind man, we are claiming our relationship with Jesus. We are stepping right into the arms of Jesus, our Good Shepherd. Who hears us. And sees us. And loves us. Just as we are.

I bet you thought it was over, didn’t you. That this episode had reached its climax with the blind man’s confession of faith and claim of relationship. But there is a twist in this plot.

Scene 6 (Read John 9:39-40). “I came into this world for judgment.” Jesus says. What? What happened to his words in John 3:17, “God did not send the Son in the world to condemn the world…”?

Judgment in John is not an outward condemnation. It is self-condemnation. Not believing in Jesus brings judgment upon oneself. It isn’t judgment from Jesus or from God. But self-imposed judgment. It is about how we respond to Jesus as the Word made flesh. It is that moment of judgment--that moment of crisis--for everyone who has an encounter with Jesus. A moment that demands a response.

This week, with Ash Wednesday, we begin the season of Lent. Lent is a time for us to step back a bit. To check our hearing and our seeing. To check our response to Jesus. To see how we are living as his disciples. To see how we are witnessing to him. 

“I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” 

“Surely we are not blind, are we?” the Pharisees asked. We ask.

How does Jesus respond to them? To us? The answer will come in our seventh and final scene. To be continued on Ash Wednesday. Be sure and tune in. Amen.

Preached February 11, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church.
Transfiguration Sunday
Readings: Psalm 27:1-4, John 9:1-40.

Seeing

Over these past few weeks of Lent, almost all of our Gospels lessons have come from the Gospel of John. John is one of four gospels in the New Testament: Matthew, Mark, Luke and, of course, John. We call Matthew, Mark and Luke the synoptic gospels. Mark was the first of the synoptic gospels, written around the year 70. Then, followed Matthew and then Luke. Most scholars believe the last of the synoptics, Luke, was written around 85 CE. These three, the synoptic gospels, are narratives. They tell stories from a first person viewpoint. Stories about the life of Jesus and his ministry on earth from those who were there. 

The Gospel of John was written much later, around the turn of the first century or even into the second. By this time, all of the apostles have died martyr’s deaths. John is the only one still alive. The early church had begun to lose hope, believing that Jesus would come again within their lifetimes. Many, in addition to the apostles, had been martyred. Others were nearing old age. Yet, no Jesus. Despair grows. And many begin to question who Jesus was. To ask whether Jesus really was God. 

It is in this context that John writes his Gospel. He writes it to offer hope to the church. To reassure them that Jesus is God. To point them to the divinity of Christ. To do this, he writes of seven miracles performed by Jesus. 

Now, in theory, there is nothing really earth-shattering about this. After all, we can find miracles in the other three gospels. 

Yet, there are two interesting things about John’s account. First, none of these seven miracles are found in the other gospels. None of them.

The second is that John never uses the Greek world for miracle when he writes about them. This is also different from the other three gospels. Instead, John uses the Greek word schmeia, which means signs. These seven signs are not simply something miraculous. Instead, they reveal the divine nature of Jesus and the divine nature of his mission. The signs point to Jesus’ identity. They point to Jesus’ mission. They point us to the presence of God in Jesus. To those who are open to seeing it.
  
So, why does this matter? Why is this important? Well, our lesson today--the story of the healing of the man blind from birth--is one of John’s seven signs. 

Our Holy Gospel today is according to John, the tenth chapter.
Glory to you, O Lord.

The Gospel of our Lord.
Praise to you, O Christ.

I guess if I were to make one point about this text, about this sign, this schmeia, it is all about the seeing, isn’t it? We have a man, who can’t see from birth. Who, eventually, is given his sight, his ability to see. 
The perfect interpretation of this text, it would seem, would be about the importance of seeing, or about having “spiritual sight” in order to recognize Jesus.

But, there’s something more than that here. Do you notice that the first thing that the blind man does is to listen. To hear Jesus’ voice. To hear Jesus’ command to go and wash the mud out of his eyes and then to respond.

The man hears Jesus before he sees Jesus. And, even though he immediately has sight of Jesus, it is a much more gradual process that he truly sees Jesus. Notice how he moves from seeing Jesus as “the man called Jesus” in verse 11, to addressing him as “Lord” and worshiping him in verse 38. In fact, in verse 37, Jesus himself refers to the importance of both sight and hearing when it comes to faith. “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is that one.”

Hearing and seeing. This dual aspect of faith is even further illustrated for us in the next chapter of John. John 10:1-21.

You see, Jesus doesn’t stop talking with the last verse of our today’s text today. Instead, he keeps speaking in the next chapter. It is here, in Jesus’ discourse, that Jesus interprets the meaning of the sign. This is a common pattern in John. Jesus performs a sign, a schmeia, which is followed by a dialogue and, then, a commentary from Jesus that gives us a framework through which to interpret the meaning of the sign.

If we stop with the last verse of our reading today, the last verse of chapter 10, we miss the explanation in the first 21 verses of chapter 10.  If we stop with only chapter 10, we miss the full impact of Jesus’ sign, of Jesus’ healing the man born blind.

It is in chapter 10, in Jesus’ discourse that he interprets the meaning of seeing and hearing and believing. That Jesus finds this man. At the beginning of the story in his blindness and, a second time, at the end, when he has been cast out of his community. That Jesus finds him and calls him. That the man first hears him. And, then, showered with grace, sees him. 

But, Jesus doesn’t just find him and call him and heal him. Jesus gives him a new identity as a disciple. Jesus calls him. This story about the blind man isn’t a healing story. It’s a call story. That the interpretation in chapter 10--those who know Jesus--his sheep--hear him and follow him. In John, knowing Jesus means having relationship with Jesus. It’s the same thing we’ve been talking about all through Lent. About being in relationship with God. About being in relationship with each other. About being in these relationships that begins with our baptisms.

Just as the blind man is called, so, too, in our baptisms, we are called. As Jesus calls the blind man, who hears and then sees, so, to, Jesus calls us so that we, too, hear and are given sight. But, this sight isn’t simply for our benefit. the blind man is called, hears and is given sight, so, too, we are called, hear, and are given sight. Grace upon grace upon grace. New identities. Called into discipleship with Jesus.

But, discipleship doesn’t stop here. It doesn’t mean that we are found and that’s the end of the story. No. We are to go out and, just as Jesus found us, we are to find others. To go into the world and invite the world to come and see. To find and invite especially those who have been forgotten and forsaken like the blind man, cast of our their communities, overlooked and abandoned, those who have been left to fend for themselves. 

To share grace. Grace upon grace upon grace. The same grace that we have received. With others.

That’s what is meant in our baptisms we are given a lighted candle and sent with these words, “Let your light so shine before others, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”

So, this is for you today. A candle. To remind you of your baptism. But, mostly, to remind you of the light you are. The light you have been called to be. The light of Christ. Shining in the world. 

Heard, seen, and called. Called into the presence of Christ. Called to bring that presence of Christ to others, by also hearing and seeing. And by witnessing to the grace upon grace upon grace that is our promise in Christ’s resurrection. A promise that we get to live out here and now. Together.

Amen.

Preached March 26, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Readings: 1 Samual 16:1-13, Psalm 23, Ephesians 5:8-14, John 9:1-41