The Amazing Old Testament: Speak, Lord
I’ve been trying to name out loud (out louder?) that children figure so prominently in Scripture – and when it happens, to dare to suggest God might be calling one of our children in our church, right now, today, into something amazing for God. When we give Bibles to 3rd graders in worship, and at Confirmation, look at them long and hard and ask this question. Some were being silly, some squirmed, but a handful looked me in the eye, deeply, as if wondering.
The lovely vignette in 1 Samuel 3:1-20 must delight the naturally spiritual, while baffling cynics. If someone says I heard God speak to me, even I tend to think he’s hearing his own hunches or preferred stirrings. How does anyone hear God in 2024? We should recall that Samuel was in the temple – all the time. Prayers, sacrifices, the retelling of Israel’s old stories: these were constants for him. For us, the more deeply we are absorbed in liturgy, daily prayers, weighing Scripture, and conversation with wise people (Samuel did have Eli to test what he’d heard), the more we hear God, however indirectly.
Israel was in a mess. Eli was getting too old to lead (his loss of vision is what happens to the elderly, but it’s also symbolic of the people’s inability to see the things of God), and his sons were wicked. How weirdly encouraging is it that the Bible so often narrates parents with children who have utterly lost their way?
“The word was rare in those days” – because the Lord was quiet? Or because no one was listening? Does this sound like our days? But “the lamp had not gone out” – so clever, as it’s a lamp, but it’s also theological! God hasn’t gone dark. God speaks: “I am about to do a thing at which the 2 ears of everyone that hears it will tingle.” Any ear-tingling thing God might be about to do?
What if our prayers were less “Lord, hear our prayers,” and more an echo of the boy Samuel: “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening”? We might, if we wait and are quiet, begin to hear. Our ears might even tingle – as God is unlikely to mutter conventional wisdom, and God won’t pander to our preferences. Prayer is breaking down our defenses against God – trusting God will bring only grace.
What does grace feel like? Marianne Williamson suggested that “When you ask God into your life, you think God is going to come into your psychic house, look around, and see you just need a new floor or better furniture, that everything needs just a little cleaning – and so you go along thinking how nice life is that God is there. Then you look out the window one day and you see that there’s a wrecking ball outside. It turns out your foundation is shot, and that you’re going to have to start building it over from scratch.” For Israel, the building of the whole nation is collapsing and needs radical reconstruction – which may sound like our nation and world…
I’m fascinated not just with Samuel but also poor old Eli. I think of my favorite post-apocalyptic film, The Book of Eli (he’s blind, a child figures prominently); the world was a catastrophe; the “word was rare in those days.” And there’s this: my good friend Rev. George Ragsdale reminded me a while back how even we clergy might fail to understand (and thus support!) that some young person is being called by God.
Eli’s ability to figure out what was going on was compromised – first by his own physical frailty. He’s old, tired, visually impaired. How often do our aches and pains, or our own physical weariness, keep us from hearing God, or from realizing what God might be doing? How often, simply being tired, do we go back to bed and assume it can’t really be God speaking or doing a new thing?
Eli’s mounting blindness isn’t just physical; it’s symbolic of his leadership. He’s blinded by love and attachment to his own sons (as was Samuel, and David) who were scoundrels, who “had no regard for the Lord,” and abused their priestly prerogatives. How often do you show up at work, but whatever you left behind at home is still rattling around in your head – a struggle, a spat, a harsh word, a chill instead of an embrace – and it impacts what you do. Can we name and offer up to God and maybe a trusted confidant such Eli moments? Can we be patient and merciful with others who are having an Eli moment but can’t tell?