This past week I went with my family to visit Ohio Caverns. If you
have never been, it’s a really impressive place outside of Columbus
where you can tour caves. On our tour we walked through a dark and
drippy cave to see beautiful stalagmites and stalactites, or the pointy
things that hang from cave ceilings and come up from cave floors. We saw
underground rivers and nooks and crannies with various shades of
orange. One stalactite was particularly impressive and our tour guide
informed us that it was older than the pyramids in Egypt at over 200,000
years old. He then casually added “this will be here long after we are
all gone and forgotten about.” This is of course true and the passage of
time and cycle of human life and death is not a new concept for me as I
have contemplated the reality of death plenty of times during my life
and pastoral ministry, but nevertheless it’s still a big concept to wrap
your mind around. Especially as I was holding my two year old son and
feeling a brand new life kick inside my belly.
We know that we are mortal, that time keeps moving and that many of the trees and rocks we see will still be here long after we have returned to dust. Most of the time I think we just accept this as our reality, the cycles of nature, the vast expanse of God’s time. But sometimes it may make us stop to ponder the meaning of life. If we are but a brief moment in the existence of the earth, what is it all for? The things we value, the events we stress about- are they not all fleeting moments soon forgotten? It can be kind of depressing really and perhaps leave one feeling hopeless, depressed and unmotivated. One day all of us will be dust … so what’s the point? Let’s just go home now, eat, drink and be merry because it’s all over soon. If we are lucky we may do something significant and someone somewhere will remember our name and a little bit of our story, but what does that matter really?
Today in the Old Testament reading we encounter someone whose name did manage to stand out across the pages of time. And actually a good bit of his story is still told today. Elijah is someone that most of us have some familiarity with and his story is still taught to future generations in Sunday School classes across the world.
But even Elijah had a time of hopelessness, despair and in the text we read today, he is even asking God to take his life. It is a surprisingly honest snapshot of the great prophet. He has just come from a great victory at Mt. Carmel where he proved that the God of Israel is in fact most powerful. Plus he has raised the dead, called down fire, confronted a king and outrun Ahab’s chariots. He is quite the prophet and it is no wonder he is remembered so many years later. But even after all of those mighty acts, here we find him- on the run from Jezebel, alone, depressed and desperate. He says “it is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life …” Such honesty, such despair, and certainly not what one might expect from a great prophet who has just come off of an impressive public victory. But then, an angel of the Lord takes care of Elijah and then God comes around.
Given Elijah’s amazing story thus far, we might expect what happens next to be a thrilling scene, something bold, dramatic and awe-inspiring. Perhaps a great wind that splits mountains? Or maybe a big earthquake or fire? Well, those things happen while Elijah is standing there waiting for God to come, but God is not in them. They are not the story, this time things are different. This time Elijah experiences God in the sound of sheer silence. To say that Elijah hears “the sound of sheer silence” of course does not make any sense. How does one hear silence and how does silence have a sound? But maybe what Elijah experienced in that moment was so dramatically different from the chaos, from the dramatic events he had experienced so far, that it was almost deafening to him. As we know from our modern day constant need for stimulation- sometimes in a world of noise the sound of silence is the most shocking sound of all.
And so Elijah takes notice. He responds by going to the cave and there he has a conversation with God. He explains his situation, all the good work he has done, his desperation and need for help. And then God gives him instructions. The instructions are not to go and raise someone from the dead or call down fire or outrun chariots. The instructions are not to go and do something that will increase his fame, demonstrate his power or get his adrenaline going. Rather, the instructions God gives Elijah are not about him at all, instead they are about what happens next. Elijah is told to go and anoint two kings and then anoint Elisha as his successor and then they will take care of the rest. And this is what happens … the story goes on, time moves on without Elijah and even the great prophet Elijah becomes a memory, a story kept alive only by our retelling it.
In the end, Elijah’s glory or fame or what he showed us about God would be completely dependent on other people telling it. His impact on the world dependent completely on other people’s responses- on his successor Elisha, on God’s continuing work through the prophets, on the printing of the Bible and on us … dependent on us to believe, retell and incorporate into our lives.
Today as we celebrate All Saints we remember the great saints of our scriptures, the brave martyrs of Church history and those who accomplished great things for the sake of Christ and whose names became widely known and stories retold. But we also remember and celebrate the saints who sat in these church pews and stood in this pulpit before us. The saints who loved us, gave to us and cared for us when we were able to give nothing in return. We remember those who lived seemingly ordinary lives, some too brief and all but a flicker in the great span of time. We remember their greatness and also their humanity. The times when they, like Elijah may have felt lost and without hope. Or even the times they made mistakes and proved our human need for grace true. We celebrate them by gathering at the table together and experiencing their presence at Communion, at a meal that extends beyond space and time. We remember them by naming them- out loud, in our hearts, or to each other. And then we move on, knowing that one day it will be our names that are read, one day all of our names will eventually make their way off the list, and time will keep moving on as the trees watch and the rocks stand strong.
Perhaps this sounds hopeless, depressing and sad. Or perhaps we can find wisdom and direction in the words God speaks to Elijah. Rather than looking to mighty acts, drama and excitement to somehow leave a legacy for us, our best bet of being remembered and making an impact in the world may be from naming, equipping and blessing our successors. From passing on wisdom, love and guidance to future generations.
And the best way to remember those saints who have touched our hearts and impacted our lives is by honoring them with our lives. Remembering the gifts and tools they have given us. Telling their stories, building on their work and learning from their trials and joys. We name them aloud with our lips but we also tell of their memory by the way we live. This is how we tell the story of the great Saints of the Bible, the saints in our own lives and the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
God is speaking to us today, here, in the bread and wine. And God is also speaking to us through the generations, through the great salvation history, through the pages of time and the unfolding of God’s relationship with humanity. When we celebrate the Saints and read the pages of our Bibles, we also celebrate that we too can be a part of that great story. We too are invited to be in relationship with God, part of God’s work on earth and the life, death and resurrection with Christ. We do not need to worry about fading with the pages of time or trying to make sure people remember our name because we are part of God’s story, we are linked together across generations, across a story that began with creation and will continue on to Christ coming in glory.
So much in our world is about the individual. What do you like? What do you want? What do you do? Why do you matter? But when we become baptized we become part of a greater story, we become one in the body of Christ and we carry with us the stories of those who have gone before us and leave those stories and our own story to future generations. We know that Christ is the Alpha and Omega, beginning and end, and so we live and die in that story, that is our legacy- our place with Christ. And that story will last even longer than the trees, rocks and even the stalactites. Amen.
We know that we are mortal, that time keeps moving and that many of the trees and rocks we see will still be here long after we have returned to dust. Most of the time I think we just accept this as our reality, the cycles of nature, the vast expanse of God’s time. But sometimes it may make us stop to ponder the meaning of life. If we are but a brief moment in the existence of the earth, what is it all for? The things we value, the events we stress about- are they not all fleeting moments soon forgotten? It can be kind of depressing really and perhaps leave one feeling hopeless, depressed and unmotivated. One day all of us will be dust … so what’s the point? Let’s just go home now, eat, drink and be merry because it’s all over soon. If we are lucky we may do something significant and someone somewhere will remember our name and a little bit of our story, but what does that matter really?
Today in the Old Testament reading we encounter someone whose name did manage to stand out across the pages of time. And actually a good bit of his story is still told today. Elijah is someone that most of us have some familiarity with and his story is still taught to future generations in Sunday School classes across the world.
But even Elijah had a time of hopelessness, despair and in the text we read today, he is even asking God to take his life. It is a surprisingly honest snapshot of the great prophet. He has just come from a great victory at Mt. Carmel where he proved that the God of Israel is in fact most powerful. Plus he has raised the dead, called down fire, confronted a king and outrun Ahab’s chariots. He is quite the prophet and it is no wonder he is remembered so many years later. But even after all of those mighty acts, here we find him- on the run from Jezebel, alone, depressed and desperate. He says “it is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life …” Such honesty, such despair, and certainly not what one might expect from a great prophet who has just come off of an impressive public victory. But then, an angel of the Lord takes care of Elijah and then God comes around.
Given Elijah’s amazing story thus far, we might expect what happens next to be a thrilling scene, something bold, dramatic and awe-inspiring. Perhaps a great wind that splits mountains? Or maybe a big earthquake or fire? Well, those things happen while Elijah is standing there waiting for God to come, but God is not in them. They are not the story, this time things are different. This time Elijah experiences God in the sound of sheer silence. To say that Elijah hears “the sound of sheer silence” of course does not make any sense. How does one hear silence and how does silence have a sound? But maybe what Elijah experienced in that moment was so dramatically different from the chaos, from the dramatic events he had experienced so far, that it was almost deafening to him. As we know from our modern day constant need for stimulation- sometimes in a world of noise the sound of silence is the most shocking sound of all.
And so Elijah takes notice. He responds by going to the cave and there he has a conversation with God. He explains his situation, all the good work he has done, his desperation and need for help. And then God gives him instructions. The instructions are not to go and raise someone from the dead or call down fire or outrun chariots. The instructions are not to go and do something that will increase his fame, demonstrate his power or get his adrenaline going. Rather, the instructions God gives Elijah are not about him at all, instead they are about what happens next. Elijah is told to go and anoint two kings and then anoint Elisha as his successor and then they will take care of the rest. And this is what happens … the story goes on, time moves on without Elijah and even the great prophet Elijah becomes a memory, a story kept alive only by our retelling it.
In the end, Elijah’s glory or fame or what he showed us about God would be completely dependent on other people telling it. His impact on the world dependent completely on other people’s responses- on his successor Elisha, on God’s continuing work through the prophets, on the printing of the Bible and on us … dependent on us to believe, retell and incorporate into our lives.
Today as we celebrate All Saints we remember the great saints of our scriptures, the brave martyrs of Church history and those who accomplished great things for the sake of Christ and whose names became widely known and stories retold. But we also remember and celebrate the saints who sat in these church pews and stood in this pulpit before us. The saints who loved us, gave to us and cared for us when we were able to give nothing in return. We remember those who lived seemingly ordinary lives, some too brief and all but a flicker in the great span of time. We remember their greatness and also their humanity. The times when they, like Elijah may have felt lost and without hope. Or even the times they made mistakes and proved our human need for grace true. We celebrate them by gathering at the table together and experiencing their presence at Communion, at a meal that extends beyond space and time. We remember them by naming them- out loud, in our hearts, or to each other. And then we move on, knowing that one day it will be our names that are read, one day all of our names will eventually make their way off the list, and time will keep moving on as the trees watch and the rocks stand strong.
Perhaps this sounds hopeless, depressing and sad. Or perhaps we can find wisdom and direction in the words God speaks to Elijah. Rather than looking to mighty acts, drama and excitement to somehow leave a legacy for us, our best bet of being remembered and making an impact in the world may be from naming, equipping and blessing our successors. From passing on wisdom, love and guidance to future generations.
And the best way to remember those saints who have touched our hearts and impacted our lives is by honoring them with our lives. Remembering the gifts and tools they have given us. Telling their stories, building on their work and learning from their trials and joys. We name them aloud with our lips but we also tell of their memory by the way we live. This is how we tell the story of the great Saints of the Bible, the saints in our own lives and the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
God is speaking to us today, here, in the bread and wine. And God is also speaking to us through the generations, through the great salvation history, through the pages of time and the unfolding of God’s relationship with humanity. When we celebrate the Saints and read the pages of our Bibles, we also celebrate that we too can be a part of that great story. We too are invited to be in relationship with God, part of God’s work on earth and the life, death and resurrection with Christ. We do not need to worry about fading with the pages of time or trying to make sure people remember our name because we are part of God’s story, we are linked together across generations, across a story that began with creation and will continue on to Christ coming in glory.
So much in our world is about the individual. What do you like? What do you want? What do you do? Why do you matter? But when we become baptized we become part of a greater story, we become one in the body of Christ and we carry with us the stories of those who have gone before us and leave those stories and our own story to future generations. We know that Christ is the Alpha and Omega, beginning and end, and so we live and die in that story, that is our legacy- our place with Christ. And that story will last even longer than the trees, rocks and even the stalactites. Amen.
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