NOISE

Sermon for October 18, 2009

Scripture: Psalm 46; Matthew 13:10-17

I'm still on the theme of “release to the captives”, following up on the words of Jesus, which were originally the words of Isaiah, words that declared what Jesus intended his ministry to be all about: to proclaim good news to the poor, release to the captive, recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed.” I'm still on the theme that those are formative words for us too, those of us who see ourselves as in any way following in the footsteps of Jesus or finding inspiration in him. I'm still on the theme that to take those words as formative for our own faith means not only to see ourselves as bringers of good news and agents of release and liberation but also to see ourselves as being among those who are in need of hearing good news, of receiving greater vision, of being liberated and gaining release. I am still on the theme that we are all captives in one way or another, actually not in one way or another but in lots of ways, and that for me part of being a person of faith is to ask myself in what ways I am a captive. In what ways am I in need of release?

Last week I gave one answer to that question by speaking of the way I feel burdened by the history brought to mind by Columbus Day, the history of European interactions with the indigenous peoples of the Americas, and then I added to that the weight of the parallel history brought to mind by the fiftieth anniversary of the integration of Charlottesville public schools, not just the local history but the whole national history, and how all those histories together, interconnected and interwoven as they are, are a heavy weight on my soul from which I am in need of release. That answer was pretty close to the surface for me because of the Columbus Day holiday and the local anniversary, but then that answer is always pretty close to the surface for me. Anyway, having expressed myself on that last week, I then asked myself: OK, what else? What else do I feel like I am captive to or am being burdened by? What else do I need release from?

Of course we all have personal issues to deal with: patterns of behavior, fears, deep-seated angers and lingering resentments, all sorts of things that might get in the way of our living and loving and that therefore we need to be released from. Many or most of those things as they affect us personally are more appropriate concerns for private conversation with close friends, or for a therapist's office, or for our private prayer life, not so much for public discourse, so I will keep some of my answers as to what I may need release from to myself. Setting those things aside though, I can tell you something that came almost immediately to mind when I asked myself this week, “What else?” What else am I being burdened by these days and in need of release from? Without any great effort or deep thought, an answer came quickly into my head—in the form of a single word: noise. And thus the title of this sermon.

That word came to me, as I say, rather suddenly and without much prior thought of any kind, deep or otherwise, but once that answer occurred to me, it did require some thought afterwards since it had come as a bit of a surprise and I wasn't quite sure what I might mean by that. Charlottesville's a pretty quiet place to live, compared to Chicago for instance, and Ava and I live in a pretty quiet place in Charlottesville and my work environment is pretty quiet and temperamentally I enjoy the quiet and don't go looking for large crowds to be a part of. In obvious and literal ways, I am not particularly oppressed by noise. Why would that word come so quickly to mind?

After a bit of thought, what I decided was that the noise that something inside me said I needed to be released from had to do with the cultural noise I am surrounded with, that we are all surrounded with, whether or not at any given moment it is actually physically assaulting us or not: the clash of competing agendas, the attempt of people with varying opinions to gain the most attention by each speaking more loudly than all the others, the Babel of daily takes and spins on the ups and downs of economic trends and political fortunes, incessant charges, counter charges, and downright insults of political combatants and culture warriors, the widespread tendency to find something else to be outraged about and someone to blame for it, and so on. It's all there, all around us, more obviously omnipresent than God herself, whether or not we happen at the moment to be tuned in to the radio, tv, or internet or not.

And of course we do quite often one way or another make ourselves available to the noise. At least I do. Maybe a few people—or since Sojourners are exceptionally wise people on the whole—maybe more than a few of you are wise enough to turn off the radio and tv and internet and be exceptionally choosy about the things you let you're your head. It was the spiritual advice, good spiritual advice, I believe, in the days and months after 9/11 to turn off the media and spend more time doing something, anything, that would be soul nourishing, exposing oneself less to things that are disheartening or fear inducing.

It's probably just as good advice now as it was eight years ago, but I confess I don't do it, not as consistently as I would like. Not that I'm addicted to having life filtered through mass media, but I don't turn it off literally or figuratively nearly enough. I'm not even smart enough to completely avoid those voices that I find most objectionable and that make my blood pressure go up, the voices that say things I disagree with in the most disagreeable sort of way. Sometimes I get caught up in a kind of a weird fascination with those voices and I linger longer than is really healthy for me on some station or some internet comment or another before I press the button that gives me relief. So I need to confess that, though I know I am not the only one in this room who engages in this self-destructive kind of behavior. I am aware that there is this relatively simple solution available to achieve release from the kind of noise I have been talking about. Press the button. Click the mouse. Turn it off. Turn off all the voices. Those you agree with as well. They're not as dangerous to your health but they still participate in the noise. Turn them all off. One solution.

However, as I thought about it, it is just one solution, and a partial one at that, and it doesn't just put the issue to rest or avoid the need for any further reflection. As I think about it the issue is not just noise in some simple sense and the answer, the means of release, is not so simple as turning it down or turning it off. Part of what oppresses me or burdens me about the cultural noise around us is the hint—and sometimes it is more than a hint—the hint of violence in it, where what takes places is not reasoned discussion or sincere debate, but a war of words, where words are used to inflame, to attack, to beat down or destroy. And let me be specific about one way in which I am burdened by this.

During the political campaign that ended not even a year ago, I was deeply worried about the violence that is part of our culture and whether it might be turned against a black man who seemed poised to become president, whether there might be an attempt made on Barack Obama's life. That fear has not gone away; if anything it has increased. I don't know how justified the fear is. I don't know whether there is in fact a greater likelihood of an assassination attempt because words are so often being used as weapons these days and because of the frenzied atmosphere we sometimes seem to live in. I do know that I am not the only one troubled in this way, and that it is not simply a matter of complaining about the noise as though it were a mere irritation, and that it is not a matter either of complaining about the uncivil nature of public debate and wishing people would just be a little more polite, though that would undeniably be a good thing. If there is violence in the atmosphere, if the threat of violence is to be taken seriously, then just turning down the volume or paying no attention is not a solution, at least the whole of a solution. Surely prayer is called for, but that is not a whole solution either. It is a serious kind of situation we find ourselves caught in and oppressed by and “flip” answers like “just turn off the media”, while providing a measure of relief, are not sufficient to bring release.

I had originally chosen as a scripture for this morning Psalm 46. It contains several verses that I thought were relevant. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea…” That part of the Psalm spoke to the fearful part of me, the part of me that finds the noise not just unpleasant but much more deeply troubling than that. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear…” Well, I probably will continue to fear, but the words of the Psalm were of some comfort and guidance to me. And that Psalm ends with these words: “Be still and know that I am God.” The words repeat the theme, and I was hearing them say: Fear not. Let not your hearts be troubled. God is. Focus on that, not on the noise. Seek out the silence where God is, the silence within where God is to be found. Don't get all caught up in the noise; be grounded in that holy silence. I know the Psalm doesn't exactly say all that. That's what I heard it saying. So I had chosen it to be read this morning.

Then I found out that the choir was going to sing “Sicut Cervus” based on the text of Psalm 42: “As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.” I decided to go with that for a reading instead, not only because the choir was singing a piece based on it, but also because the words to that Psalm also seemed relevant. For one thing, the writer is looking for healing. “My tears have been my food day and night…why are you cast down, O my soul…” and so forth. Healing seemed to me a good thought to pick up on here. Swimming as we are in a sea of combativeness, surrounded by a culture of noise that not only assaults the senses but wounds the spirit, we are, I believe, in need of release from being confined in that culture. And for me it is not only a matter of retreat, of seeking some place of quiet or of silence that will provide an escape from the din of the day, of trying to be still and know that God is, though that is all good. It is also a matter of actively seeking out words to speak that have a chance to heal, a matter at least of trying to find ways to speak that grow from that place in our spirits that knows we are in need of healing. Words like: “As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”

To speak from a place in the spirit that knows our need for healing, to somehow let our words become healing words…this is not such an easy thing in the climate we live in. Especially it's not such an easy thing since I know that I will continue to succumb to an interest in the warfare over the issues of the day, which I do care about after all. I am not a disinterested observer on many of those issues and I will root for one side to win and I may even sometimes be a combatant myself. There will continue to be ways in the future, as there have been in the past, in which I know myself to be part of the problem, not part of the solution. Nevertheless, I do also know my need for release from captivity to the noise of our culture. I do pray for that release. I do pray for our ability to somehow move beyond that noise into places of quiet and of healing. I pray that sometimes at least my own words will be more than noise, that they may even contribute to the healing I believe we all need. Amen.

Jim Bundy

October 18, 2009

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