In the name of the One who goes forth,
the One who reveals and
the One who remains.
Amen.

Today's texts give us some ideas about how we might all do that even when it is difficult. The child Samuel, himself an answer to his mother Hannah's prayer, was apprenticed to the temple at Shiloh, serving with the priest Eli. We are aware that Eli's own sons have not been good priests; they have abused their power and will soon fall to God's judgment. The boy Samuel is sleeping in the temple before the Ark of the Covenant, the container of God's presence. Wakeful in response to a voice calling, Samuel and Eli are unclear about who is calling. God persists and Eli recognizes that this child is to respond so he teaches Samuel how to answer, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening."

The text had told us that in those days the word of the Lord was seldom heard, that no vision had been granted. And we wonder why; was humanity at fault, not expecting God to speak or perhaps not being faithful enough to hear. Who would teach Samuel that God sometimes speaks in dreams and visions at night?

One of the important points today might be that God will speak to a child, that the child will become a messenger, can be called into a vocation, a ministry and mission. We could remember that the Church considers baptism as full initiation into the body of Christ, that ministry and mission will flow from the Spirit's claim, even in a child, even throughout a life-long journey. For after God spoke to Samuel about the judgment of Eli's sons, Eli was prepared to listen. Tell me the truth, he said. I can hear what God is saying.

Bernard of Clarirveaux said , "If you want to see, listen; Hearing is the first step toward vision." Attentiveness to God begins with listening, with discerning God's voice. In Boston right now a group of young people are living for a year in Christian community. The Micah project, sponsored by the Boston University chaplaincy, gives these students time to listen for God's claim on their lives. They are given a spiritual director, times of worship and feeding in community, time to serve others and time to earn a little money for themselves. But mostly, they are given time to figure out their vocations.

Discernment takes time and quiet. I took some classes with a teacher who is a Quaker; silence and communal discernment are her denomination's gifts to the wider community of faith. "Talk to me about prayer," said another Boston friend during the holidays. "My prayers are filled with chatter - I talk to God all day long. I am not getting what I need." I suggested that she still herself and give thanks for what God was showing her, revealing in the world. I thought if she could see, she might listen.

We had dinner last night with friends in Nepean; the mother of that household is dying of Parkinson's disease which is increasingly robbing her of an ability to speak. But she does have the gift of listening and I was very touched because she had deeply listened to me on an earlier visit. She saved her energy to ask me, "How are you, Linda?" and she listened.

I found a political brochure that must have been placed under our apartment door. It listed all the reasons why I should vote for this particular candidate - the qualities are: proactive, dedicated, visionary, results oriented, in touch, passionate, committed, informed, respected, and experienced. No where did it say he had an ability to listen. I can't vote here anyway but I am not sure I would have voted for him.

Listening perhaps begins with the psalmist's sure knowledge of God's touch in humanity, in the mysterious and wonderful ways in which God is present in each one of us. We are so wondrously made, and so different. We invited to wonder about that and to live in right relation to God through and in our bodies. I wish that the lectionary people had included verse 11 in the portion of I Corinthians to be read today for it speaks of the waters of baptism - You have been through purifying waters, dedicated to God, justified. An ordering of our bodies in response to faith follows - how to rightly use our bodily freedom in ways that are mutual, non-coercive and not oppressive. How to listen, to locate and to practice our faith in our bodies is part of our heritage of an embodied and incarnational faith. Jesus the Incarnate One was so full of God that we learn from him how to deal with our bodies. Whenever he met with leprous, bleeding or dead bodies which would make him ritually unclean, Jesus chose to touch, to call all to wholeness. This continues today in a sacramental awareness of the One who dwells within us for the healing of the world.

In today's gospel Jesus calls Nathanael to become a disciple, telling him that there is more to see. He uses the image of Jacob's ladder where angels ascending and descending were seen. Jacob said, "truly God is in this place, it is the gate of heaven, and I did not know it." Jesus is indeed our gateway, an opening into the realm of God. The challenge is for us to cultivate that awareness, listening and looking for God's voice. Whether it is the sweet hour of prayer, here on Sunday morning or elsewhere, at another time - on Sunday evening, or on Tuesday nights or Friday morning with Karen or Thursdays, the seeking of God's realm involves some stillness.

Soren Kierkegaard said this:

"As my prayer became more attentive and inward I had less and less to say. I finally became completely silent. I started to listen - which is even further removed from speaking. I first thought that prayer entailed speaking. I learnt then that praying is hearing, not merely being silent. This is how it is. To pray does not mean to listen to oneself speaking. Prayer involves becoming silent, and being silent, and waiting until God is heard."

I remember my own anxiety over my first silent retreat - I would be all alone with God and I might be frightened by that. I was aware of all the noise and busyness of my life, full of good works, instant messages and now, overloaded emails. I have grown into needing times of silence, contemplative space for my mind, my body and my soul to rest. I am able to both lead and hold the space now and I look for times of refection and stillness.

I am thinking now of Jesus and his times of prayer; we don't have much recorded in scripture - the Lord's Prayer and the prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. We know that he often sought time to pray, to go off on his own away from the needs for teaching and healing. I think there are no other prayers in the text because he was silent, listening. I am wondering if he wanted the silence of going under the water in the Jordan, the silence of his mother who knew how to ponder things in her heart, the silence of Joseph who listened to dreams, to words spoken in darkness. I am wondering what happened for Jesus in silence and what happens for us.

"Belonging to God is not a matter of going limp in God's arms, after all, "says Barbara Brown Taylor. "We are called to love, to serve, to heal, to forgive. We are called to imitate Christ and to make choices that resemble his."

I am thinking that silence may be an unusual Epiphany manifestation for us, a kind of strange showing. Again, we listen to St. Bernard. "You wish to see, listen. Hearing is a step toward vision."

     Amen.
The Rev. Linda Fisher Privitera+