Scripture: “Rare in
Those Days”
1 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.
Which is not to say that the Lord was not revealing himself in those days, but only to say that few were paying any attention. It’s not to say that the Lord was not speaking, but only that few were listening.
That few were listening becomes evident in the story itself. Three times God calls to the boy Samuel in the night. Three times Samuel mistakenly presents himself to the priest Eli, saying, “You called?” All of which demonstrates that God can be speaking, and his word can go unheard. No one is listening.
This is what we heard Moses warn the Israelites about last week, when he told them not to forget God upon entering the promised land, not to think to themselves, “My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth” (Deut 8:17). Just before today’s scripture, we learn that Eli’s sons “look with greedy eye” on the sacrifices that people bring to God (1 Sam 2:29). They eat the meat that is meant for God. They also take advantage of some of the women who visit the temple. They take into their hand whatever is in their power and might to take. The storyteller explains the root of their behavior this way: “They had no regard for the Lord” (1 Sam 2:12). They are not listening or looking for God. Their only god is their appetite, whether that’s meat or women or money. These men may be professional priests, but they are practical atheists, living only for themselves.
We live in a very different world—but with a very similar problem. We live in an age of distraction and insatiable appetite, constantly turning from one screen to another, from one bank account to another, from one outrage to another, from one purchase to another. If things themselves do not distract us, then our thoughts do. There is very little space for listening. Just turn on the television and listen as leaders and commentators speak right past one another, pushing their interest above all else. If we cannot hear even a person who is right in front of us, then how much more so will we have trouble hearing the God who speaks silently in our heart.
Scripture: “You
Called Me”
2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; 3 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.
It’s worth pausing here to remark upon the setting. We are in the center of the temple. We are just feet away from where the ark of God rests, the very symbol of God’s presence with the people. If a glimpse of God were to be caught somewhere, or if God were to be heard speaking, it would be precisely in this setting.
4 Then the LORD called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” 5 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. 6 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.”
Twice, here in the middle of the temple where God’s presence is symbolically located, a priest of God does not even consider the possibility that Samuel has heard the voice of God. We’ve been told that Eli’s eyesight has grown dim, but it’s also become clear that his spiritual antenna is no longer picking up on God’s signal. He’s not tuned into God’s frequency. No wonder “the word of the Lord was rare in those days.”
7 Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, and the word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him. We might surmise that Samuel is also not dialed in to God’s frequency, but it’s through no fault of his own. All his role models—Eli and Eli’s two sons—have shown that their regard is not for God but for their own appetite and self-preservation.
8 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. (Today’s story has the feel of a folk tale. Third time’s charm, as they say. Finally, Eli wakes up to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, here in the middle of the temple, where people come to pray and seek God—maybe God is speaking.)
9 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.
10 Now the LORD came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” 11 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. 12 On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. 13 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. 14 Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever.”
I don’t want to go down a rabbit hole, but I do want to point out that this depiction of divine punishment does not quite align with what we see in Christ. Which is not to say that it’s completely wrong or mistaken, only to say that as followers of Christ we might interpret it a bit differently. Jesus regularly tells parable where there are regrettable consequences, but never does he directly identify these consequences with divine punishment. Jesus seems to have a different picture of God, and we see this picture in the way Jesus himself lives. Repeatedly he forgives others and invites us to do the same. For Jesus, judgment seems to be less about God’s personal punishment and more about the natural consequences of sin. “If only you had known the things that make for peace,” he utters in lament over Jerusalem, and “those who take the sword will die by the sword,” he insists, after he has called Peter to drop his weapon. Likewise, we might read the demise of Eli and his sons as a natural result of their self-centered ways. Seeking only their gain and paying no attention to God, they are on a road that will not end well.
15 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. 16 But Eli called Samuel and said, “Samuel, my son.” He said, “Here I am.” 17 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.” 18 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.”
19 As Samuel grew up, the LORD was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. From our interpretation thus far, we might draw the conclusion that “the LORD was with” Samuel not simply because Samuel was special or God has chosen only him, but rather because Samuel was with the LORD. The LORD was with Samuel, because Samuel was with the LORD. That night in the temple, Samuel had learned something that few others in Israel had learned. He had learned how to listen. “The word of the Lord was [not] rare” for him, because he had learned how to listen.
From
Rare to Regular
I remember one Saturday, about half a year ago, when I was stretched out on the couch in an empty moment. For once, I had absolutely no plans. Sometimes that can be a terrifying place. But in this particular moment, the lights in the house were out, the sun had just set, the sky was a muted orange and violet, and the tree limbs out the window were elegant shadows against the colored background; and I felt myself almost dissolving into the evening, as the shadows gathered and everything slowly receded into darkness. My plans, my worries, even my thoughts seemed to evaporate. I felt a profound peace. It was not that God had suddenly appeared, but rather that all those things that usually get in the way of God had disappeared.
I imagine you have experienced similar moments of transcendence at various points in your life. I will often hear from someone who is grieving a loved one, how in the midst of their sorrow they see a sign—a butterfly, a bird, a cloud, perhaps some creature or item of great significance to their loved one—and they feel in the depths of their heart a great assurance that their loved one is safe in God’s embrace. And for that moment, it feels like they too are wrapped in God’s embrace. Or I’ve heard from folks who struggle with addiction talk about hitting bottom as a moment of profound grace and freedom. In moments of great loss or great love, our world is often stripped bare to its essentials. It is not so much that God suddenly appears, as that the things that obscure God disappear.
For most of us, these moments are rare. Why is that?
In the 4th century, Christianity became the official religion of the Roman empire. You might think this was a good thing. Finally, an end to persecution. Finally, sympathetic leaders who might make life a little easier for Christians. But in fact, for many followers of Christ, it became harder and harder to hear God as the wider culture welcomed them into its open arms and invited them into its quests for power, prestige, and possessions. This is the time when church leaders started cozying up to the emperor, church councils were convened to establish authoritative creeds, basilicas replaced living rooms as the gathering places for worship. And yet this is also the time when a number of Christ-followers fled the cities for the wilderness. They left behind the new possibilities for political might, societal advancement, and accumulation of wealth, because they recognized these things to be spiritual blockages, barriers that got in the way of being with God and with one another.
When these desert-dwelling Christ-followers talked about the spiritual life, they focused especially on what they called “purifying the heart.” They took Jesus at his word when he said that the kingdom of God was at hand (Mark 1:15), here in their midst (Luke 17:21), and that the “pure in heart” would see God (Matt 5:8). They would point to the sacred moments that we have all experienced and say these are evidence God is really with us. But they would also say that as long as these experiences remain spontaneous and rare, they are not the full measure of life with God. Rather, they are glimpses of what could be. With practice, we can open ourselves up to receive God’s grace more regularly. We can work on removing the blockages that get in the way, that make “the word of the Lord…rare” and “visions…not widespread” (1 Sam 3:1).
Practices
of Subtraction
The spiritual practices through which these desert-dwellers purified their heart and opened themselves up to regular encounter with God are deceivingly simple. Silence was a key practice. Solitude was a key practice. Simplicity, or having few possessions, was a key practice. The medieval mystic Meister Eckhart says that the spiritual life has more to do with subtraction than addition, and I see that in the practices of silence, solitude, and simplicity. Each one is a practice of subtraction. Each one has more to do with letting go than grabbing hold.
I said these practices are “deceivingly” simple because, if you’ve ever tried to practice one of them, you’ve probably found yourself quickly distracted by impulses to get up, get out, grab hold, do, do, do. And so the desert fathers and mothers developed unique ways to practice purity of heart. One abba kept a stone in his mouth for three years just to keep himself from incessantly speaking. Another abba taught his students, saying, “Sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” (An object lesson illuminated this point. Pouring water into a bowl, an abba instructed his students to look into the bowl. The water was turbulent and they could see nothing. A few minutes later, he asked them to look again. In the still water, they could see their own face as in a mirror. So it is with a person who moves from crowds to solitude, the abba pointed out.) Another abba made it a practice to never talk back or defend himself when someone else spoke ill of him.
I don’t share these examples to recommend them specifically. (Keeping a stone in your mouth might raise more than a few eyebrows!) But I do find it helpful to pause and ask, “What practices help to purify (or unblock) my heart? What practices put me in a place where I am more open and better prepared to encounter God?” Prayer certainly qualifies (although I think it’s worth distinguishing between “my will” prayers and “thy will” prayers). For a lot of people, reading scripture at the beginning of the day can help center or anchor their spirit in God’s will. Some people practice silent contemplation, paying attention to nothing other than their breath, which they recognize to be the very breath of God. What all these practices have in common is that element of subtraction. Subtraction of the noise that distracts us from God. We let go of things instead of grabbing hold of them. We stop talking and start paying attention. In our own way, we say with Samuel, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening” (1 Sam 3:9).
Prayer
Eternal Word of life,
We long to hear you
…
In a world of noise,
Teach us ways
To listen,
To be with you
As you are already with us.
In Christ, the living Word: Amen.
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