Last
week we thought a little about God’s communicative nature. God who spoke the
world into being, who speaks to us in the Bible and who, ultimately speaks to
us in Jesus, the word made flesh.
This
week we are going to develop that a bit further, because communication isn't just about speaking; it’s also about listening. In fact, perhaps I have done
these sessions a bit backwards, because for speaking to be effective, listening
really has to come first. In the Bible, there is just as much emphasis on God
being a God who listens as there is on his speech.
Take
that first reading we heard, from the book of Exodus. It is a crucial moment in
the story of Moses. In fact it is THE crucial moment. If it hadn't been for
this moment, when Moses turned aside to see what was happening when he came
across a bush on fire, yet not being burnt up, then he would have been unknown,
and the Hebrew people would have remained slaves in Egypt, never returning to
their Promised Land. It all turns on this moment.
Moses
is on the run, out in the desert. He had had high hopes of making a real
difference to his people, the Israelites, but it had all gone wrong and in a
surge of rage he had killed an Egyptian and hidden his body. He had to scarper
fast, and when he got out into the wilderness beyond Egypt he soon figured it
was safer to stay there and make his home there.
In
any case, what was the point of going back? His attempt to help had backfired.
There was no hope of liberation for the Israelites, and it seemed their God
- his God – had forgotten them or just didn't care.
That’s
why it matters so much not only that he encountered God in this burning bush,
but what God said to him from it. The first thing, the main thing, God wants
him to know is that he, God, has heard the cries of the Israelites. He hasn't been deaf to them, as Moses thought, or forgotten them. And having heard, he is
going to answer their cries , through Moses as it happens. God has heard. God
is listening.
In
the Gospel reading, Zechariah makes the same, startling discovery. He was a
priest, one of many who served in the Temple, taking their turn to do the most
sacred jobs. Burning incense in the sanctuary was one of those, a real
privilege. As a priest, Zechariah took the prayers of the people into the
presence of God for them. But there was a prayer of his own which he had long
since given up on, a prayer that he and his wife, Elizabeth, might have a
child. They had waited and waited, but now it was too late. There’s something
very poignant about Zechariah’s faithfulness in offering the prayers of others
while apparently having put to one side the thing he most wanted in the world,
evidently thinking that it would never be granted.
But
when the angel appears to him, the first thing he tells him is “Zechariah, your
prayer has been heard”. Impossible though it seems, Elizabeth is pregnant. What
is more, not only will there be a child, but that child will be the forerunner
of the Messiah. When he is born, Zechariah sings that in him “by the
tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to give
light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death and to guide our
feet in to the way of peace.” (Luke 1.78)
Listening
is often the most precious gift we can give to another, hearing them truly,
giving our full attention. If you've ever experienced being listened to like
that you’ll know how precious it is. Listening is a big part of my work, and
one of its greatest privileges, but it saddens me how often I find that people
are unused to being listened to and don’t expect to be heard. Why should their
stories matter? Why should anyone be interested in them? It can be utterly
revolutionary for someone to be listened to, something that changes their life
completely.
For
Christians that listening is rooted in the listening of God. “We love, because
God first loved us”, says the first letter of John. The same is true for
listening, “we listen” – or at least we should do – “because God first listened
to us.” It is only when we take in the awesome truth that God hears us, that
God cares, that God believes that what we have to say – the deepest and most
secret cries of our heart – are important and worth his attention, that we can
learn to pay attention to others. Real attention doesn't just want to fix them,
or humour them, or impress them with our own goodness or cleverness. Real
attention – simply hearing – opens the gateway of grace for them, enabling them
to know that God hears and loves them too.
Tonight
we meet the God who listens. In our silence, we might like to ponder whether we
believe that, and ask what God might be hearing in our lives at the moment, the
cries that we hide from others, and maybe even from ourselves, the fears and
hopes that we have buried because we think no one is listening to them.
Amen
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