We find God in community

We find God in community.

Write that down, put it on a t-shirt, it’s my catchphrase, we find God in community.

We find God in the stories of others, we hear, we commiserate, we understand.

When our family weeps, we weep.

When we gather for baptisms, we stand in support of the one being baptized and promise to help raise them in the faith.

When we are lonely, we are reminded we are part of a community, part of a place of belonging, part of you and me adding up to us.

We find God in community.

We find God in the handshake when passing the peace.

We find God in the passing of the peace when we forgive each other for things left unforgiven so that we can become whole before receiving the Eucharist.

We find God in those embraces of glad tidings when we are reunited with friends in the Narthex or sending them off on some grand adventure, a trip to France or the beginning of the school year.

We find God in the spoken word of salvation promised to us through the reading of scripture in the liturgy of the word.

We find God in the mystery of the Eucharist as we stand together as one body, shoulder to shoulder we anticipate the presence of the risen Lord in our lives, in our holy supper.

We find God in coffee hour, sipping SoG, we listen to our stories told of days long ago or happenings that happened but recently.

We find God in the clearing of weeds, we speak to one another with fistfuls of trimmings, wiping our brows with the back of hands we stand back a ways, admiring a cleared garden made beautiful by creation and the hard work of hands committed to caring for God’s gifts.

We find God in the shared words of liturgy, the peace, the confession, the creeds, the Lord’s Prayer, words that when said together prove we are one people, one family brought together by God to love God and each other.

We find God in laughter, a congregation alive and joyful.

We find God as we gather to bury the dead, the solemn hand on one’s shoulder brings comfort and knowledge that they are loved by those there to support them, hold them up when grief threatens to bring us down, break us, set us out sea upon a tide of tears heartache.

We find God in the candlelight lighting our faces on Christmas Eve, God in the ringing bells of Easter morning, God in the sunrise of an early Easter day.

We find God together.

We find God in community; print it; it’s a wrap.

So what then, how then, do we find God in silence?

There are times when I am alone in the woods, hiking some trail.

Usually, I will listen to music or the bible app on my phone.

I find comfort in the forest, a place of contemplation and rest.

And sometimes, sometimes I will turn off my tunes or put away my headphones and just leave myself open to what God is calling me to do.

Or I just listen to the sounds of nature, a bird call or the steady drum of a light rain on a Saturday in May.

And other times, well, there is just silence.

Either I am too far from the rippling stream or the birds have gone elsewhere, there is no rain to be heard and just silence echoes in the gaps between sound.

Silence.

Just prayer.

Silence.

And no answer.

I struggle to find God in the utter and complete silence of noiselessness that is perceived by only me.

I feel.

Alone.

Sometimes, the birds are quiet, the leaves are silent, and, in that silence, I look for God.

Because prayer can be a plea.

Prayer can be asking God for release from the demons that ail us, prayer can be a cry for help, for support, for kindness, for knowledge, for…

Anything.

Lord, lift this burden from me.

Lord, I am tired.

Lord, I am lonely.

Lord.

Help.

Lord, this is my prayer and my prayer is met with silence.

Lord, this is my plea and my plea is met with silence.

Lord, are you listening?

Do I know God is listening?

I have faith, but do I know?

And here we have Jesus.

He is getting close to his human end.

He is preparing his disciples and he is praying from them.

Father, the hour has come.

Glorify your son.

Father, let my disciples know you so they might know eternal life.

And to this long prayer that we heard Jesus say in this morning’s gospel, how does God respond?

Did the clouds part in the garden?

Did the curtain tear in the Temple?

Did God respond by saying, “This is my son with whom I am well pleased?”

Seemingly, God did not respond or if God did reply, he responded only in silence.

Seemingly,  in just this passage, Jesus is praying alone.

I do sometimes have trouble finding God in silence.

And yet.

And yet!

(You had to know there was an “and yet” coming!)

God inhabits the silence.

Just as God flew over the unformed earth at the time of Creation, God is found flying in the silence.

While I was in formation to become a priest, a season in my life that seems so long ago now and will always seem recent as well, I prayed.

A lot.

Formation is not easy.

It’s a lot of work, I was taking classes while working full time and trying to be the best Dad and husband I could be.

It was stressful.

I also felt that I was constantly in the spotlight; I would go to church but I was an intern at a church so I knew my performance would be graded.

I worked with the people directly having a hand in my formation, my work life sometimes seemed as if it was my formation life.

On bad days, I would find myself bent by stress and self-doubt.

And on those days, I would pray.

And pray.

And pray.

And usually, those prayers were met with silence, with no answer from God, no comforting words saying everything would be okay.

And I would wonder why I was doing this.

I knew the answer why, but on those bad days, the answers were less clear.

Sometimes, bad days are bad and there is no comfort in the silence.

And yet.

Yes, one more and yet!

Even in the silence is God.

Those prayers for comfort, seemingly unanswered at the time, kept me on a path that eventually led me to here.

Now, you might want to call that happenstance, but I believe that God is too in happenstance so, there you have it: God brought me to here.

Jesus’ prayer too, it may seem to have gone unanswered or even ignored.

Look at the fate of so many apostles and you will see they were persecuted and martyred, did God not protect them as Jesus asked?

Well, with the promise of eternal life, they realized that promise.

Love conquered death when Jesus breathed his last on the cross.

And from those humble beginnings, from the eleven huddling in a room was birthed a movement that changed the world.

Part of that movement was love.

Part of that movement led us to this place in this building in South Glastonbury.

For we are a community built on love.

Our prayers are not always answered immediately.

God does not separate the clouds, look down upon us, and say: “No worries, I got this.”

But through prayer and faithfulness, we do see our lives arc towards a faith that brings us together as one people loving one love.

We are not free from heartache, our faith does not remove sadness from our lives yet even when God seems farthest away, God is present.

Silence is temporary.

Noise creeps in.

And within the noisiness of our lives are the voices and words of family.

Of friends.

Of community.

And as I walk in those woods, I can hear those holy words interrupt the silence.

They are spoken together.

They are spoken by you.

I find God in community.

Amen.