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Great Awakening Movement
Dr. Trace Haythorn

The Sound of God’s Call

Scripture: I Samuel 3:1-18 (NRSV)
Wake Forest Divinity School Convocation Address
September 16, 2008

Dr. Trace Haythorn
President, The Fund for Theological Education

A couple of years ago, I had the privilege of participating in a seminar with Tom Long, preacher and professor par excellence. Dr. Long talked about the acoustical effect of biblical reading, the out-loud, up-front, church-leading kind of reading. Our reading of the text is in and of itself an interpretation, an exercise in hermeneutics. How we read the text says something about what we think it means, and—Dr. Long continued—all too often scripture is read in church as if the Word of God doesn’t mean much at all.

He’s not just challenging those who read the text as if they are being publicly punished: “A reading from the book of Samuel, chapter 3, verses 1-18.” Too little. He also worries about those who perform scripture in a way that shifts the focus from the text to the performer: “A reading from the book of Samuel, chapter 3, verses 1-18.” Too much.

This seems really important to me in light of the text that is before us today. And it also seems important in light of what we know about communication. Most of us have at least cursory familiarity with a study from the 1970s that showed that on average 93% of our communication is nonverbal. 93%! The words get only 7%! In this fine institution that is shaped and formed and refined by words in every moment of every day, and in this chapel where we ground ourselves in the living Word, the word that transcends all words, what does it mean that so much of our meaning is found in everything but the words? Our whole ecology is built on words, and yet 93% of our communication is everything but the words.

This passage before us today adds one more layer of complexity to the issue of acoustical effect and the role of nonverbal communication. “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.” The heavens seemed silent. But things must be changing, for in the last chapter there was an account of an unnamed prophet delivering Eli some very bad news. All too often when people complain that God seems distant they imply (or say straight out) that some how God is to blame, that God has withdrawn from creation, gone to some remote part of the universe. But for the ancient Hebrews, this silence was not a challenge to God; it was a theological argument about the failure of the people. Had they kept faithfulness God would be palpably present. Even when the temple is well-tended and ministry is alive and well, faithfulness can still suffer, and in the process, God seems distant and detached. Hmmmm…sound familiar?

But here in chapter 3, the times are a-changin’. The not-too-subtle historian tells us that Eli is having trouble seeing any more. Hmmm—perhaps a connection to the rarity of visions? We’ve already learned that he couldn’t even see the difference between a woman who had too much to drink and a woman who was lost in prayer. And into this darkness, where the only light present is the lamp of God, which is near the ark of the covenant, which is where Samuel sleeps. Hmmm—Eli may not be able to see, but the reader should be getting a clearer picture.

It is into this dim light that we first hear the voice of God. But unlike many theophanies, all we get is the voice. The text says that when the voice speaks for the fourth time, after Eli had given Samuel instructions as to how he was to attend, had given him the words for the moment, with all of that build up, the text says the Lord came and stood there. That’s all we get! The Lord came and stood there. No dramatic entry, no burning bush, no angelic messenger. Just presence.

And so it is in this moment—this space of only words and no nonverbal cues—it is here that the acoustic effect is so important: for Samuel, for Eli, for everyone who encounters these words. When you hear this passage, how do you hear it? How is the name of Samuel carried by the word of God?

You know how Hollywood would play it: “Samuel! Samuel!” Some kind of cross between James Earl Jones and Charleton Heston. But I don’t know. Perhaps it was little more than a whisper: “Samuel. Samuel.” It would be no wonder for Samuel to confuse it for the aged voice of his mentor Eli. Perhaps it sounded like the voice of a parent, calling one to breakfast on a school day, or home for dinner after a great afternoon of play with friends. I hear that cry in the sweet and strong accent of my mother’s voice: “Samuel! Samuel!” Perhaps it was the cry of an anguished God, a voice filled with pathos and regret, longing for the Hebrews to turn and be faithful once again. “Samuel. Samuel.”

How does it sound to you?

I do not ask this question idly. This is not some errant detail in an old passage that misses the central point of the pericope. It is central to the meaning we make of it, especially as we listen for how God might be speaking to us today. We are so much like Eli, long-practiced and versed in the religion of our day. Many of us were raised in an ecology like that of Eli and Samuel, children of the church. We are so able to participate in or even perform the rituals, to cite the verses, even to spin a little theology now and then. For an essentially biblically illiterate culture, you can find bible quotes all over the place. I live in Atlanta with a church on almost every block. Before that I lived in a town of less than 25,000 in the middle of Nebraska that had over 40 churches. The symbols of faithfulness seem to be everywhere, and yet they seem to be little more than symbols. Our cultural eyes have grown dim, and the word of God seems rare in our time.

And yet you are here—which tells me that whether you are student, staff, faculty, or friend of this Divinity School, you heard something along the way that led you here. What did you hear? How did you hear it? Did you know it when you heard it? Many of us are like Samuel. We can hear it over and over again, but until someone teaches us how to listen, points us toward the source, opens our eyes and ears to just what possibilities might lay ahead – yes, until someone teaches us. Thank God for the Eli’s of our lives.

In many ways my heart breaks for Eli at this point in the story. The word of the Lord has come back, and it has come to a new generation. I know just what that feels like every day in my work. I have tried for two decades to hear that voice, and with each passing year, I have to hold the pages a little farther away, I have to listen a little harder. I’m guessing my aging brothers and sisters know what I mean. But to you younger folks, take heed: had Eli not recognized the word for what it was, there is no telling how long it would have taken Samuel to respond. And had Eli not spent years and years within the ecosystem of the temple, he would not have been ready with the words to pass on to Samuel when the voice of Lord was made known once again. And had Eli not taught Samuel how to respond, there’s no telling what might have come from that first of the Lord’s messages to Samuel. And had Eli not encouraged Samuel to share the word he had received, fully aware that it was likely to be a hard word, Samuel may have kept silent. And had not Eli received that word with such grace, such dignity, such faithfulness even in his flawed old self, we would not know how we, too, are called to respond to when we receive a hard word from the Lord.

The acoustic “effect” of this text is not merely “affect.” As hard as the words are that Samuel must share and as painful as it must have been to face his mentor, it must have also been awesome to hear God’s voice that night in the temple. Awesome. Simply and inexplicably awesome. But it wasn’t just an emotional moment, an affective moment. This isn’t like those moments where you sing “Sanctuary” at the end of church camp right before that final altar call. This was an effective moment; it was kairos time. It was a moment when change was happening, where a mantle was passed, where hope was born anew. Nothing in the temple would ever feel the same again. The voice of God was back. The renewal of faithfulness was present among them. Samuel was no longer just the intern at the big temple up the hill. Samuel was now a mouthpiece for God. The old priest still had a role in the young boy’s life, but the focus shifted entirely to the new thing God was doing among the people.

I think the church is in just such a moment. At The Fund for Theological Education, I have the privilege of meeting some of the most amazing young people I’ve ever known, and some of them are seated so close to you that you might overhear God whispering to them even as they are learning to listen for how God is speaking to you. Most of them have a story of a mentor, a friend, a pastor, or sometimes even a family member, who helped them recognize God’s voice, God’s call. (I get to meet a lot of these folks, too, and some of them are seated not too far from you at this moment as well—maybe a professor, an advisor, a dean, someone from the admissions office, or that all too important financial aid officer.) It is an amazing and gracious moment when one so desperately wants to hear that voice for him or herself and can recognize and name it in another. We come from these rich ecologies of call, and like Eli we are called to nurture those towards new possibilities, especially when the word seems rare. Eli was a man challenged by the disabilities that come with aging. He couldn’t see the lamp of God. He didn’t hear God’s voice. But he knew the presence of the Lord, and he knew it as it was embodied in his young apprentice.

The people of God are tired of talking about the same two or three issues. They are tired of worrying about how to keep their old buildings patched up for another week. They are tired of wondering if anyone will ever lead them like that pastor they remember from what seems like so long ago. They are tired of trying to find their place in a church of organs and pews when they live in a world of iPods and PowerPoint; or maybe it’s just the reverse. Whatever the reason, when you’re that tired, it is awfully hard to hear the word of God.

At FTE, we believe God is speaking fresh and powerful things to the church, and some of the message sounds a lot like the message Samuel shared with Eli. We believe God is calling gifted and diverse leaders to serve the church, the academy, and society at large. We believe the Spirit is moving in the church, and that it is also moving in the world, at times from the church to the world, and at times from the world to the church. We believe we need good listeners, those who can sense this presence and help name it even when they can’t hear the full message themselves. And we believe we need those who will dare to listen, speak and serve, even when the word is hard, even when they don’t feel ready, even when it seems to take the church in directions that will take a lifetime to navigate.

What does the voice of God sound like to you? Whether you are called to the pulpit or pew, the office or the operating room, the soup kitchen or the board room, trust the words of the old spiritual: somebody’s calling your name. And your name. And your name. And your name. Hush. Hush. Somebody’s calling our names. May we be surrounded by the wisdom of Eli and filled with the courage of Samuel to answer that call, wherever it might lead us. Speak Lord, for your servants are listening. Amen.