At Quaker Meeting for worship this morning I had a startling thought- this is, somehow, like a sermon or homily. In our form of worship, based in stillness and silence, at its best, we become one, we are as one being. And each Sunday it is different, though similar enough. If we individually and collectively listen with what I call the third ear, or the ear of Spirit, each voice, even each sound, becomes a part of the spontaneous sermon. Even if no one speaks a word, a homily can be heard, if we listen, if we have ears to hear.
In some ways using the word spontaneous is not quite right, for like all good sermons, much goes into its preparation. In the British little red book of Advices and Queries, we are asked if we come to worship with hearts and minds prepared, and it is worth noting what we do to accomplish this individually.The quality of the sermon deepends equally on this preparation and on genuine openess to the Holy Spirit during the appointed hour. It is my experience that much of the preparation we do is unconscious, such as a walk in a park or a talk with a particular friend, or listening to music that speaks especially to us. There are other more conscious practices, regular times of prayer or meditation, mid-week worship, and week-day morning worship also. There are as many ways to prepare as there are members and attenders!
This morning the sermon that we heard and became a part of included the humming of the mystery machine, baby Alma's raspberries, the sirens and the creak of the floorboards as well as the vocal ministry and the deep silence. For me, this morning and increasingly, every Sunday, it included the joys and sorrows and introductions, too.
Not long ago, I listened to a CD of the book The Great Awakening, read by the author, Rev. Jim Wallace. In the beginning, it may have even been in the introduction, he tells of an early preaching experience. He had been invited to preach at ML King, Jr.'s church and felt not quite up tot he task. He started out weakly, and his voice faltered, and he grew faint-hearted. Suddenly a voice from the front row called out, "Help him Jesus!" And another joined in, "Yes, Lord, help this young man preach!" Jim describes a sense of love and encouragement reaching him and giving him strength, and when he took a breath a few sentences later, heard a loud, "Amen!" At that, a sense of power flowed into him, and the congregation continued to respond appropriately and effusively throughout the rest of the sermon. It was a unique experience for a young white preacher and one that has stayed with him, even when subsequent congregations were not so vocal.
What is our Quaker version of this? How can we encourage, support and help those who receive the call to speak on a Sunday? There may well be as many answers as there are members and atttenders to this querie. Here are a few that occur to me. When someone rises to speak, say a prayer in your heart that the speaker will faithfully relay the message. Beam love in his or her direction. Say a prayer that you will hear the message with Divine ears. Deepen your stillness, your listening, your connection to that which we call God at one and the same time as you focus on the words being said. And last but not least, leave a goodly amount of space before rising to speak, after someone else has, should you receive the call yourself.
As I write an awareness is dawning that the above attitudes can also be used when listening to each contribution, the sighs and cries of our little ones, the rustling of leaves in the wind, yes even the sirens and perhaps the humming of machines as well. Listen for what is being spoken, in words or otherwise. Listen to what Spirit is saying to us in Meeting for Worship. Try to hear the sermon that is being born. Each one of us in attendance has a vital role to play. We are both congrgation and priest, we are both mother and midwife to the sermon-song that God longs for us to hear, and together, we can hear with more depth and clarity if only we have ears to hear.
