Don Friesen
Earlier this week the New York Philharmonic's performance of Gustav Mahler's Ninth Symphony came to a dramatic stop just thirteen bars before the end when a telephone went off in the front row. The conductor didn't know if the offender was hard of hearing and couldn't hear his own marimba ring tone, or whether he thought he could ignore it and get away with it. The patrons of the arts attending the concert were outraged! One yelled: "Thousand-dollar fine!" "Kick him out!" yelled another. Others were quick to point to the culprit, and only when he assured the conductor that the phone was off did the music continue. The conductor began the symphony from an earlier point, and brought it to its quiet close. ("Can You Hear Him Now?" New York Times, January 12, 2012)
The outrage, however, continued in post-concert chatter, some saying that concert halls should cut off cell phone signals, while others who are on call while at a concert argued against cutting off the signal. The discussion meandered off into complaints about "first clappers" and sneezers, and eventually degenerated into criticizing each other's grammatical mistakes, but not before taking a detour to complain about the high cost of British rail lines.
Calling Samuel; Earth-to-Samuel! Heaven-to-Samuel!
The failure to hear can be quite embarrassing, as that former patron of the arts discovered. My father, who was very hard of hearing, provided us with great comedy by voicing the things he thought he heard us say. It made for the most absurd conversations. Twenty-five years later my children also find it very funny, I less so.
I find it interesting that the word, "absurd," derives from the Latin word for "deaf," and there is certainly some absurdity and comedy around hearing in our Old Testament reading. It's the story of God calling Samuel, but one wonders how the call ever got through. In those days, says our passage, "the word of the Lord was rare (and) visions were not widespread." (1 Samuel 3:1) Or, as another translation puts it more plainly, "the Lord hardly ever spoke directly to people, and he did not appear to them in dreams very often." (CEV) The "revelation of God was rarely heard or seen." (MSG)
A judge named Eli was the high priest at the time, someone whose senses we might expect to be attuned to God's revelation, but the passage tells us that Eli's "eyes were becoming so weak that he could barely see...." (1 Samuel 3:2, NIV) And when God called, Eli not only saw nothing, he also heard nothing. Incidental details in the passage also add to the absurdity. Eli slept through God's call (3.2, MSG), and there is reference to the fact that "the lamp of God had not yet gone out...." (3:3). It turns out that the reference is to an actual lamp, but it serves as a handy metaphor for the miserable state of spiritual affairs at the time, such that we might expect the lamp of God's revelation to sputter and go out at any minute!
Eli certainly wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but his sons were outright "scoundrels". (1 Samuel 2:12) They "were a bad lot. They didn't know God and could not have cared less about the customs of priests among the people." (MSG) They "were base and worthless," says another translation. (AMP) If Eli was a weak and indecisive leader, his self-indulgent sons compounded his ineffectiveness. They too were priests, but they made a mockery of their calling, for when people brought their sacrifices to the place of worship, they grabbed the best parts of the sacrifices for themselves, even before they were offered in worship. (2:12-17) They used their servants to threaten others into paying them kickbacks from the offerings, and they also sexually exploited the women who served at the entrance to the tent of meeting. And Eli, despite the pleas of the people, did nothing to discipline his sons or correct the injustices they perpetrated. Small wonder that the "word of the Lord was rare in those days".
Samuel's mother, Hannah, was so grateful for his birth that she put him in Eli's care to be trained for the service of God (1 Samuel 1:11), and it is incredible that Samuel somehow remained untainted by the spiritual malaise of his surroundings. In fact, we are told that Samuel grew "both in stature and in favour with the Lord and with the people." (2:26)
The absurdity of the story continues when God's call is heard, not by the high priest, or any of his other priests, but by a boy! And the call has to be issued three times before someone answers! Twice it goes to call-waiting! Finally, Eli, who still has a vague memory of how God gets through to people, instructs Samuel to return to his room, and when he hears the call again, to say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." (1 Samuel 3:9)
Call Waiting ...and Waiting ...and Waiting
It's a wonder that God got through to Samuel. A lot of things mitigated against it. We have a parallel in our New Testament reading. Philip, who had recently become a follower of Jesus, wanted his friend, Nathanael, to meet Jesus, but the meeting almost didn't happen, because of Nathanael's scepticism about Nazarenes. "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" he asked Philip. (John 1:46)
Sometimes we don't even get a hearing because of preconceived notions, or because we don't listen very well. Martin Buber (1878-1965) is best known for his philosophy of dialogue, described in his book, I and Thou (1923). His concept of the I-Thou relationship arose out of a painful experience. Buber was absorbed in deep thought about a book he was writing when he was visited by a young man who was about to enter the army. The young man was worried and needed some words of assurance. Buber heard what the young man had to say but he really didn't listen to what he was saying, and when Buber learned later that the young man had committed suicide, he was shattered. He felt that if he had truly listened to the young man, he might have saved his life. It prompted Buber to rethink his entire philosophy of life, and recognizing our selective perception and the minimal attention we give to others, Buber developed the idea of "being present" to another person.
The seminary I attended tried to teach listening skills, but it was very amusing when someone socially awkward tried to use these skills. They were so intent upon their active listening ploys, and their precisely timed therapeutic grunts and nods, that they were anything but attentive to those to whom they were listening. It's as T.S. Eliot quipped, "We had the experience but missed the meaning." ("The Dry Salvages," Four Quartets, 1941)
You can listen, but you may not hear. It's like the mother who let her mind wander while her five-year-old daughter was speaking to her, whereupon the youngster jumped on her mother's lap and said: "Mommy, listen to me! You're not inside your eyes." When my own children were young and found it difficult to focus his or her attention I would peer closely at him or her, and ask: "Is there anybody in there?"
In his "Ode to a Nightingale" (1819), John Keats (1795-1821) describes his frustrated "darkling" inability to attune himself to the nightingale's inspiring melody. He writes:
(Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900, 1919)
The Nature of Samuel's Call
God, however, got through, and God told Samuel, "I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle." (1 Samuel 3:11) And then God goes on to tell Samuel that He can no longer tolerate Eli's iniquity, more specifically the iniquity of Eli's sons, but for which God holds Eli responsible.
There are several dimensions to God's call of Samuel that may be instructive for us as we listen for God's voice. Firstly, it's a personal call. Each time God calls, God calls Samuel by name. "Samuel! Samuel!" (1 Samuel 3:4, 6 and 10) As Isaiah wrote, "I have called you by name, you are mine." (Isaiah 43:1) And in fact, the name, Samuel, in yet another play on hearing, means "Heard of God," or "God has heard". When God called Samuel, it was a personal call, not a conference call. Priestly protocol dictated that Eli should have taken the call; even if it was Samuel God wanted, it should have gone through Eli. God, however, prefers a direct call.
Secondly, God's call of Samuel is an important call, for Samuel turned out to be a towering figure in Israel's history. For one thing, he was the last of the judges, someone to whom people from far and wide came for good counsel. Samuel was also the first of the major prophets, and he was a king-maker, albeit a reluctant one. Samuel was opposed to Israel having a king, but upon their insistence he asked God for a king, and anointed the first two kings of Israel – Saul and David – no insignificant appointments.
Samuel is remembered for his deep devotion to God, and classical rabbinical literature says that he was more than an equal to Moses. He is favourably remembered by Judaism, by all major streams of the Christian Church, and also in the Islamic faith. Our text ends with the words, "As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord." (1 Samuel 3:19-20)
Samuel's call was a personal call, an important call, and thirdly, a serious and potentially dangerous call. When it finally dawned upon Eli that it was God calling Samuel, he may have also realized that he and his household would be called to account, so in the morning he pressed Samuel to tell him what God had said. The text says that "Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli." (1 Samuel 3:15) "What was it that he told you?" asked Eli. "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." (3:17) So Samuel told him. After that Eli seems resigned to whatever God has in store for him.
God told Samuel that the wickedness of Eli's family would result in their dynasty's destruction. No wonder he was scared to tell Eli. Samuel was the first in a long line of prophets, followed quickly by Elijah and Elisha, Isaiah and Jeremiah, Hosea and Amos, all of whom – like Samuel – had the courage to speak honestly and forthrightly to everyone, including those in power.
In Garrison Keillor's book, Lake Wobegon Days, Muriel Krebsbach, a sickly young woman, spends much of her time looking for signs and omens. One day she fantasizes that Our Lady of Perpetual Responsibility will give her a message of great importance, so great that the pope will send an emissary to receive the message. As this scenario played out in Muriel's mind, she resolves not to reveal the message until the ordained time, which she does, and the message is this: "Be nice." (Lake Wobegon Days, 1985,pages 164-167) It's not a bad message – not too complex and hardly subject to argument. On the other hand, it doesn't carry much of a punch.
Most religious or prophetic messages are of greater significance, and in the case of most of the Old Testament prophets, dangerous to their welfare. Samuel's message to Eli was not a pleasant or nice message. The message contained judgment upon Eli's house. The word that prophets bring is typically not pleasant because it is the truth of God spoken to that which is untrue. It often feels like salt in a wound. It stung when Isaiah and Jeremiah and Hosea spoke judgment to Israel, or when John the Baptist spoke truth to Herod. The story of Samuel is not a children's story, even though it involves a child. It's a story for any of us who are in danger of losing our capacity to hear God.
Today marks the birthday of Martin Luther King (1929-68), and in the United States tomorrow is a holiday in his honour. While Martin Luther King troubled a lot of people, his last speech sounded conciliatory and reasonable. He told those who had come to hear him: "We don't have to argue with anybody. We don't have to curse and go around acting bad with our words. We don't need any bricks and bottles. We don't need any Molotov cocktails. We just need to go around to these stores, and ...industries in our country, and say, ‘God sent us by here, to say to you that you're not treating his children right. And we've come by here to ask you to make the first item on your agenda fair treatment, where God's children are concerned.'" (April 3, 1968) He was killed the next day.
King often spoke in biblical cadences and content. Articulating his dream for a glorious and more just future, he began with the words of Isaiah:
("I have a Dream" speech, August 28, 1963, citing Isaiah 40:4-5)
A Call to Tune up our Ears
James, in his New Testament letter, tells us, "Let everyone be quick to listen...." (James 1:19), the assumption being that it doesn't come easily to most of us. Selective listening – tuning things in or out according to our theological whimsies – is done at our own peril. Jesus alluded to hearing difficulties when he told people the story of a sower (Luke 8:4-18), and then, should anyone in the crowd be dim-witted enough to miss the point, he added: "Let anyone with ears to hear listen!" (8:8) Apparently there were some dim-witted people in the crowd – among them some of his own disciples – and after muttering something about "looking they (don't) perceive, and listening they (don't) understand" (8:10), Jesus dutifully went on to explain the parable, concluding once again with an admonition, saying, "Pay attention to how you listen" (8:18).
It doesn't take a skilled biblical scholar to understand that God is the sower of innumerable seeds, hints, and revelatory signs. It also doesn't take a highly skilled agriculturist to deduce that the potential of a harvest depends to a great extent upon the quality of the soil – or ears – into which those seeds, hints, and signs fall. Just as soil prepared for planting yields a better harvest than soil which has been neglected, so a heart prepared for the gospel will yield a greater harvest for the kingdom of God than a heart which has been allowed to lie fallow. An iconography of the senses was developed in the later Middle Ages in which deafness was used as a figure for "obtuseness of spirit".
The biblical writers paid a lot of attention to the human ear, not because that organ is prized above others, but because in Semitic parlance it represents all of the ear's functions, understood in their widest sense. The ear, thus, becomes a synonym for one's heart and mind. (Proverbs 2:2; 18:15)
Composer Aaron Copland (1900-1990) wrote: "Music can only be really alive when there are listeners who are really alive". It encourages us to listen for God's voice with the same level of intelligence and appreciation that we devote to music, so that our faith remains a vital one.
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain –
Keats was writing about the nightingale's song surviving his death, but the line, "To thy high requiem become a sod," well describes the spiritually barren situation in Israel at the time that God's call could only get through to a young boy!
To thy high requiem become a sod.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
The biblical call for economic fairness is often troubling to us, even those of us who are well versed in our biblical heritage. The danger is that we may end up in the same situation as Israel in the time of Eli – a time when the "revelation of God was rarely heard or seen." (1 Samuel 3:1, MSG) And whose fault was that? we might ask.
1 Adapted from "Litanie," by John Donne: "That our eares sicknesse wee may cure".
Quotations of Scripture are from the New Revised Standard Version, unless otherwise noted.