When God is Not in The Fire

This morning I reread I Kings 19:11-13, which describes the prophet Elijah hiding out in a cave to escape persecution, and being visited by God. In other passages in the Hebrew scriptures, God appears in dramatic forms, such as the burning bush. But here, He appears in the absence of drama, in the stillness and silence.

I am intrigued by the beauty of the language and the ambiguity of the words in this passage. The New Revised Standard Version of the Bible offers one translation:

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.

The “sound of sheer silence” is only one of several possible translations of the original phrase. According to the HarperCollins Study Bible, other translations include “a gentle little breeze,” “the sound of a light whisper,” and “still small voice.” These four possibilities vary, but each indicates that God is manifested subtly, without great force or show.

I have been playing with several questions about this passage.

My first question is, what can we learn from this about how God may be speaking in our own lives? It seems to me that this passage can serve as a caution. There are many dramatic, loud voices in our lives. The voices of friends and family, the voices of the media, the voices of authority figures, the voices of our own fears, the voices of our past, can all be thundering. Sometimes some of these voices contain wisdom. But other times these voices can serve to drown out the “still, small voice” of God, which can be as quiet as a “light whisper.” Only when we can escape the cacophony of the large voices can we hear the small voice calling to us.

My second question is, what does this passage tell us about how we should speak to one another? Recently I was reflecting on how less can be more. It’s not always necessary in a conversation to pour out everything I am thinking, or to respond with lots of words to a friend’s comment. Talking enthusiastically in conversation is not the only route to intimacy, and sometimes it can get in the way of true connection and creativity. The best offering or response can be a few well thought-out words, followed by a listening silence.

This reminds me of the following Buddhist story:

The Master Nan-in had a visitor who came to inquire about Zen, but instead of listening the visitor kept talking about his own ideas. After a while, Nan-in served tea. He poured tea into his visitor’s cup until it was full. Then he kept on pouring.

Finally, the visitor could not restrain himself. “Don’t you see it’s full,” he said. “You cannot get anymore in.” “Just so,” replied Nan-in, stopping at last. ” And like the cup you are filled with your own idea. How can you expect me to give you Zen unless you offer an empty cup?”

It seems to me that the representation of the sacred as a “still small voice” or “sound of sheer silence” could be interpreted in many different ways, by people of many faiths. Dear readers, what do you make of this idea of the sacred? What relevance, if any, does it have to your own spiritual life?