The sound of sheer silence (2)

He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”  Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. (1 Kings: 11 – 13)

Second bit of art (this was the first) in not very many weeks based on this text about Elijah on the mountainside waiting for God, who has promised to pass by. 

First came earthquake, wind and fire. Signs of power. The very same signs of power in which generations earlier, as Moses had stood in this same place, he had experienced and understood the presence of God. Fast forward to a different time, a different context, and here we have Elijah, another man of God, who did not experience God in these forces of nature. 

I guess Elijah would have known the Moses story. Maybe he went out on to the mountain with a tick box list of how God was going to appear based on the cultural assumptions passed down to him through story and scripture. Maybe there was disappointment as the earthquake, wind and fire seemed devoid of God's voice. Maybe there was temptation to define the experience differently from how it was, writing a script for God to follow because of how it was supposed to be. Maybe there was a wondering about the judgement others would make about whether he had experienced God 'properly' if it wasn't how it had been for one who went before.

I love this text for its promise that God speaks in a whispered voice of subtle gestures. But it is also beautiful for its reminder that our own experience of God doesn't have to be defined by how others have found Him / Her / It.

As he stood on the mountainside waiting, Elijah didn't attempt to twist his own experiences to fit a prior understanding of how God was supposed to be. He was able to recognise that, whatever may have been true for Moses, for him God was not in the earthquake, wind or fire. There is no suggestion that he denied the validity of Moses' experience of God in those signs of power, or questioned how another who had stood in this place had seen the face of God. But this was not to be his experience. 

He recognised God's absence from what was perhaps the expected experience ... But he also did not give up on the promise that God would be present to him too. He waited with an expectant openness, and the reward was an experience of the mystery of holiness. If there is a parallel in Moses' and Elijah's experiences, it is precisely this: that the presence of God is experienced in a willingness to wait for the unexpected. Perhaps, if there is a universal experience of God, it is that it will be unique and personal, but it will never be forced, so is dependent on being open to receive. God comes, in unexpected ways, to those who wait. 

It seems to me that Elijah's experience is a reminder that there is no need for us to try and measure our experience of God against somebody else's, or to try and replicate what they may have seen, felt or heard, however beautiful or powerful it may appear to have been. It also communicates that there is no conflict between acknowledging and respecting the authenticity of someone else's experience of God, whilst recognising that it is not one's own. 

Whether it is in approaching intercultural or interfaith relationships, or exploring new expressions of faith which do not sit comfortably with the culture of biblical times (or even the church of the 1950s), an expectant openness that each individual's experience of the divine will be unique and personal, and that different experiences are not necessarily contradictory feels like a healthy starting point for dialogue. Elijah's is a wisdom which it seems to me the world, and the church, would do well to heed.