A story that I love comes from the Hebrew scriptures, the book of First Kings. This is one where it is tempting to ignore the context, but here the context reminds us that those remembered as great had ego and could be short sighted among other flaws. It is a story about Elijah, a prophet who has stuck with the God of Abraham even though many in the kingdom have taken to following Baal. Elijah puts on a dramatic show that proves the God of Abraham is real and powerful, but this gets him in trouble with the king who threatens to kill him.
Elijah flees and sounds quite childish as he does. Out in the wilderness, he lies down under a tree and decides he might as well give up and die. An angel provides him with food, which he eats, and immediately goes back to sleep. Again he is wakened and provided food and water. This time he is ordered to leave that place.
He travels to Mount Horeb and finds a cave where he spends the night. In the morning, God speaks to him and asks, “What are you doing here?” I imagine him crossing his arms and pouting as he explains that the king is trying to kill him, and he is the only one left who follows the God of his ancestors.
In a few moments, God will repeat the question and Elijah will give exactly the same answer. In response, God will give him a list of tasks. And God tells him that he is not the only one who has stuck by God. Elijah has been moping, self-righteous and blind, when there is work to be done.
The part I love in this story comes between the two conversations. Elijah is ordered to go and stand in the mouth of the cave for God is about to come by. He does not move. Then, we are told this: “Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.” (NRSV, I Kings 19: 11-13)
There is power in wind. Roaring winds take down trees, whip the water into powerful waves that tear into the shore, build drifts of snow. But God did not come to Elijah as wind.
There is power in an earthquake. Sitting in a cave, feeling the earth shake underneath and above him, Elijah must have feared for his life. Just recently, earthquakes in Afghanistan and Iran destroyed homes, broke infrastructure, shattered communities. But God did not come to Elijah in the earthquake.
There is power in fire. Fire is useful to keep us warm in winter, to cook our food. But fire can also race across a landscape faster than people can move, turning everything to ash. On Mount Horeb, God was not in the fire.
After the fire, there was the sound of sheer silence. And this silence was the presence of God. Hearing silence, Elijah rose and went to the cave mouth to encounter God.
Watching wind whip through the trees, carry snow, dash rain against the windows can move us, help us to feel like the world can change.
Earthquakes are frightening, and their destructive power is deeply disturbing. Sometimes, however, when we look at the condition of the world, we think we need something like an earthquake to shake things up.
Fire cleanses, and sometimes we think that is what the situation calls for.
But silence is something else. Mornings these days, I turn off the air filter and the fan that cools my computer. The silence that follows is sublime. Silence helps me find stillness. Silence centers me.
In silence, I can hear my steps as I walk, catch the sound of a chipmunk in the leaves, listen to the songs of birds. In silence, I can hear a car coming down the road, move the dog onto the burm.
Silence can be too much. It can feel empty and oppressive. Sometimes we crave sound. But silence is also a gift, a moment that calls us to inner stillness.
Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway Nation
