Listen to me

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Proper 25, Year A
October 25, 2020

Listen to me.  Listen to me. 
 
We called him the big Mahaph.  I am not sure why, but he was a large man with a large voice and plenty of passion.  He was my best friend, James’s father.  The Big Mahaph was a pediatric research doctor and professor at the Medical College of Georgia.  He rose through the ranks of medical school, residency, and fellowships treating complicated cases.  Trauma was a constant in his work.
 
I spent a lot of time at James’s house, especially on college breaks.  And whenever we would leave to go to the road trip, go out on the town, go play golf, or just go to the store, the Big Mahaph would chase after us saying: “Listen to me.  Listen to me.” And then he would tell us how careful we needed to be, regaling us with a trauma story.  He had stories about how kids got hurt in every way imaginable, and he did not spare us the gory details.  One time, when we were going to get some school supplies, he told us about a kid who fell down at school and stabbed a pencil through his hand.  For Christmas that year, James and I got him 100 pencils with the words “Listen to me! Listen to me!” printed on them.
 
While we knew they were coming, we always stopped and listened to the Big Mahaph’s cautionary tales.  It was best not to try to sneak off or get away.  He would just chase after us.  If we laughed, he would lengthen the story.  And in the end, he would say “Listen to me.  Listen to me, because I love you.”
 
Listen.  Listen.  As a culture, we are not all that good at listening.  Listening is an art that requires intentionality.  There is plenty of talking going on out there.  Technology has brought more talking to our ears than ever.  News noise is particularly loud right now, and rather than listening for deeper understanding, we are delivered the news noise that marketing algorithms determine what we want to hear.  Thus, we are hearing, but not really listening.
 
The gospel we hear today takes us back to Jesus in the Temple where there is a lot pf talking going on.  He is being grilled and tested yet again.  “Which commandment is the greatest.”  This is a popular intellectual parlor game for the Pharisees.  They have extrapolated the law to include 613 particular commands and argue endlessly about each of them.  There are a thousand things Jesus could say.  Where will his plant his flag?
 
Rather play the game and argue for one particular rule or regulation, he says speaks the content of their most sacred prayer.  “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind (and) You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  They know this as the Shema.  It is the prayer they speak to their loved ones as they rise and before they sleep.  Once again, Jesus does not answer their question directly, going, instead, for a deeper and most fulsome response.  But there is a statement buried in this answer too.  The know the Shema by heart, and the Shema is so named for the first word of the prayer, the first word of the command, and the centering utterance of the statement.  Shema means listen and hear.
 
There has been so much noise around Jesus.  Noise from the Romans who see him and his followers as a rebellious threat.  Noise from the religious elites who see him as a threat to their authority, purity, and control.  Even Jesus’ disciples make noise, jockeying for position, seeking a place in the plan, and hoping they will gain special blessings and powers.  But Jesus stops them all dead in their tracks.  Shema.  Yes.  Listen.  Hear.
 
This was a perfect revelation for those around Jesus.  He calls them back to the heart of who he is, who God is, and who we are for ourselves and one another.  This is a perfect revelation for us right now.  With the world spinning at a maddening pace in its polarities and politicization of everything, Jesus helps us get above and beyond our wallowing in details and points us to the heart of faith.
 
There is so much of God in the world for us to hear.  The natural rhythms of winds in the trees, the rustling of leaves, and even the falling acorns.  There is running water and crashing waves. There are the squeals of children and deep belly laughter.  There are cries of pain and joy.  If we listen beyond the noise, the world is so alive with God that we cannot help but see and love God with all of it: heart, mind, soul and strength.  And if God gives us all of this, we must love us too, because we are awash in God.
 
The great theologian and author, Frederick Buechner puts it this way: “Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”
 
After this, they stop asking Jesus questions.  If they want to know who God is, they can see Jesus right in front of them.  Even as they send him to the cross, he will not give up on them.  The time for talking is over.  The command to listen is dropped like a pebble in still water, rippling out for all to see.
 
Above all of the noise, the fear, the anger, the blame, and trauma of what we do to one another, Jesus calls us home.  Listen to me, he says.  Listen to me, because I love you.  Amen.