Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey
Sunday, January 23, 2022, at 8:00 & 10 a.m.
By the Rev. Stephen C. Galleher
Stop, Look and Listen!
“Give us grace to answer the call and proclaim to everyone the Good News.”
(Collect for Third Epiphany)
“Then all the people listened—they were all ears—to the book of the law.”
(Nehemiah 8:3)
“The heavens declare the glory of God, *
and the firmament shows his handiwork.
2 One day tells its tale to another, *
and one night imparts knowledge to another.
3 Although they have no words or language, *
and their voices are not heard.” (Psalm 19:1-3)
“And [Jesus] rolled up the scroll, handed it back to the assistant, and sat down. Every eye in the place was on him.” (Luke 4:21)
It’s truly remarkable how the themes of Epiphany weave themselves together so wonderfully. We have spoken about the light, the light of Epiphany that shines on us, from us, outwardly through us for all the world to see. The light that shone over the cradle in Bethlehem is the same light that lightens Jews and Gentiles and every single soul on the planet Earth. That’s what light is, what light does. It does not discriminate. It’s always about the light. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
And this light is something that is revealed. Like the answer to a riddle, the solution to a puzzle. It is what has been there in plain sight, but perhaps unnoticed, un-turned on, for as long as we can remember. Except we seldom noticed.
Let’s look a few moments at noticing. What are the requirements for noticing something, for really noticing, not just out of one corner of our eye, not just for the briefest, most superficial attention?
I suggest that the requirement for an epiphany, for enlightenment is to STOP, LOOK, and LISTEN.
These are the themes of the scriptural passages I cite this morning, and they seem to be the ingredients of insights that move our lives from indifference to excitement, from sluggishness to exhilaration.
Our collect this morning asks God to “give us grace to answer the call and proclaim to everyone the Good News.” Sounds attractive enough, but how can we answer the call or proclaim anything until we stop and pay attention to what that call is, until we have a clue as to what to proclaim!
What do you think God calls us to do? Have we thought about this? My guess is that many of us haven’t even a clue—which, when we think about it, is kind of pathetic. Am I being too callous? I wonder, because I do not exempt myself from this challenge. What are we called to proclaim? Can we put it in a simple sentence that will call other people’s attention?
Remember as kids when our teacher would tap us on the shoulder as she or he would walk up and down the aisles of the classroom> “Sit up straight! Pay attention! What’s the answer to this question!” We may have been too busy doodling with our blunt pencils, passing notes to our buddy next to us, or counting the minutes to the end of class. So we may not have been paying attention. So unless we were paying attention, we cannot have answered any call or proclaimed much of anything. Sad. Someone must have missed this good news which we could have passed on.
We may not be children today, but, if you’re like me, you are easily distracted. Either by multitasking, trying to do too many things at one time, or by getting diverted to do too many things, either serially or at one time. Our heads can whirl and we can miss out on a lot that’s going on around us.
This reminds me of the suicide bomb instructor when he was giving a lecture to new recruits. “All right, lads, pay attention, because I’m only gonna show you this once!”
The Old Testament lesson talks about a group of people who indeed did listen to what was read to them. One translation puts it in the vernacular: “They were all ears.” That’s a heap of listening—all ears! Love it.
The psalm speaks of stopping to look and listen as well. It talks about a marvelous thing. It reads:
“The heavens declare the glory of God, *
and the firmament shows his handiwork.
One day tells its tale to another, *
and one night imparts knowledge to another.
Although they have no words or language, *
and their voices are not heard.”
What is said in this passage is that what is seen and what is heard is too beautiful, too marvelous for words; this light, this enlightenment goes beyond words. It can only be experienced. These voices are not heard by our ears, as they were by the Jews in the Old Testament reading. These things were experienced, felt: the heavens declare this glory as one day tells its tale to another. So beautiful, so fragile, so glorious that we are in the realm of the sublime.
How can this be experienced unless we Stop, Look, and Listen. Do you know the beautiful Christmas song, “Do you hear what I hear?”
Sometimes it takes the sound of silence, as it did for the psalmist this morning. Sometimes it takes a seismic event in our personal lives, like a slap in the face, to wake us to certain realities we have been avoiding. Other times, it may be a quiet piece of chamber music, an off-the-cuff statement made by a friend, or a poem heard as if for the first time.
Perhaps nature sometimes hears what we do not hear. After all, nature seems stopped all right: and it seems to be looking and listening.
This poem is entitled “I See You More Clearly Now:
One hundred and sixteen souls,
counted with care.
My inspiration
on a quiet afternoon
to get to know those who live
around me.
Mostly oaks, some spindly
and just beginning,
others like grandfathers
with wide open arms.
A towering pine that was a
miniature Christmas tree
twenty-five years ago.
The sycamore planted
before our daughter was born.
An elm, that shades
where we sit on the patio.
Mulberries lining the driveway,
their leaves dessert for the deer.
And a small eucalyptus grove,
where trees are tall enough
for the hawks to nest.
To each I say, I see you.
I honor your presence,
and gritty patience
with battering winds,
sunbaked earth,
birds that squawk and titter
from your branches.
Being the guardians
that you are, I can believe
you love all of this.
Beautiful, sacred trees,
I see you more clearly now.
Isn’t that marvelous? Hearing this writer stop and notice all those trees inspires us to stop, look and listen.
Then a similar poem by Robert Frost. You probably know it. It is called “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening.”
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Having those who stop and look to serve as examples helps us enter that deep awareness wherein, perhaps, we touch on everything, it is like looking into the source of light itself. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
Amen.