Cover Your Ears, Kathy Hykes, Easter V--Year A--April 24, 2005

Gospel of John 14:1-14 and Acts 7:55-60

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer.

In August of last year, armed bandits barged into the Oslo Art Museum and ripped two masterpieces off the wall while guards and visitors watched in horror. They fled with two paintings by Edvard Munch, one called the Madonna and one titled The Scream. The paintings were part of Munch’s Frieze of Life series in which sickness, death, anxiety and love are central themes. They were painted at the very end of the 19th century. The painting, The Scream, which even school children recognize and I imagine most of you can picture in your mind, was one that helped give birth to the Modern Expressionist movement in art, characterized by the use of very bright colors and strong harsh outlines, a movement that tended to reflect the artist’s state of mind, rather than the reality of the external world. The painting for those of you who cannot picture it has a dark sky background that is fiery, and a figure that seems neither male not female, running towards the front of the painting, with hands tightly clasped over his ears and the mouth in the wide O of a mouth in the midst of a scream. The painting gives rise to thoughts of panic, that something awful has happened, or is about to happen, and the screamer seems completely cut off from any hope.

For many years I kept a copy of this painting, The Scream on a shelf over my desk. I could appreciate what the artist was feeling, because for me it was a symbol for when life is out of my control. It is like the play from the 60’s called “Stop the World I Want to Get Off.” The Scream became a symbol for the things I did not want to hear about. Things like my own death. Most often when confronted with realities that were painful but inexorable, like my own limitations, or the passage of time resulting in the indignities and insults of ageing, or the complexity and seeming impossibility of changing a broken world, a world out of control with pain, poverty, and sickness, I would imitate the terrible face of the Screamer as a way to dissipate the anguish, dilute it with silly, anything to push the thoughts out of my head. Of course, finally I would have to listen, but I needed to kick and scream first.

We heard in the First reading this morning about the death of St. Stephen. It is a brief scene that occurs moments after the disciple is called before the Sanhedrin to answer charges of blasphemy. Stephen was one of the first of the disciples sent out after Pentecost. Luke tells us that he was full of grace and power and that he was a miracle worker. He was chosen to take the word out to the country side because he was a good man, an example of the kind of man that could be a light for others. Stephen was successful in enlisting many followers but on this day he is being called to task by the court of the chief priests and elders. These listeners are enraged by what he tells them. The image of them grinding their teeth they are so angry, is such a vivid picture for us. But Stephen’s face is radiant, he is filled with the story, he gazes into their anger and remembers the work he is called to do, and he is reminded once again of the glory of God that was revealed to him in the life of his teacher, Jesus. And he proceeds to tell them this in the midst of their murderous gazes. Stephen does not sway them, nor does he seem to fear the danger. As he continues to tell them about this vision he has, that he sees his Jesus standing at the right hand of God, the verse reads that what happened next is, “they covered their ears and with a loud shout all rushed together against him.” (Acts7:57) Then they stoned him, after laying their coats so they would not get bloody, at the feet of a young man directing the show, named Saul. The man who came to be called Paul, was covering his ears as well.

Paul was a devout, educated Jew and his mission in life was to stamp out the followers of the “Way”, who were a real threat to the splintering of Judaism that was taking place during that era. He was so sure of his direction, this path of his Father’s, the tradition of his faith.

There is no way to know this of course, but I wonder if the stoning of Stephen became The Scream for the young man Saul. It is not easy to ignore someone who forgives you as you are killing him. It had to have been hard to block out the sounds of the stoning of human flesh, especially when they are mixed with words of forgiveness. A man for whom death is not the worst of outcomes is someone to fear if your life is lived trying to kill everyone who tries to say that there may be a different way, a different truth, a different life.

The road to Damascus was a short one from here.

And there is more covering of ears in today’s readings. Thomas and Philip hung out a long time with Jesus, following him throughout his ministry. They must have spent most of it engrossed in the day to day urgencies of crowd control, because something kept their ears from hearing. There is a vague sense of exasperation in the tone of this part of the Great Discourse, the four chapters that John gives over to Jesus’ Farewell to his disciples. Jesus thought his works and his words had gotten through. He thought everyone could understand the two things he was trying to say; that (1) he was going to have to leave and (2) that they were to love one another in the same way as he loved them. He is pointing out how they are to lead their lives after he is gone. Now John does not say this but I wonder--- if Thomas and Philip were too afraid to hear what he was saying? Maybe they were just scared silly.

It is the idea of the writer of the Gospel of John that the nature of God is revealed in Jesus. He says that “I am in the Father and the Father is in me; or else believe me for the sake of the works themselves….” To know the “Way” then is synonymous with knowing Jesus himself. Through Jesus, John tells us, Christians have access to God. Now if you are not used to that kind of power, if you feel that you are powerless, and now you have access to God, that can be pretty intimidating. Thomas and Philip watched Jesus perform healings and exorcisms, wonders and miracles. If he was leaving who was going to do this work? We only unfold the chairs and hire the caterer they might say as it dawns on them that the jobs are soon going to get a whole lot tougher, harder than finding a few fish and loaves of bread, harder than finding a donkey or rustling up a big crowd of followers for a triumphal parade. Now it looks like they are about to be hired to do the work of God.

That might make me scream and cover my ears.

The fifty days of Eastertide are meant to be a time of discernment. What does the death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ mean to me in my life? How do I plan to live this out? For Thomas and Phillip and the others who scattered after the crucifixion, this was a very confronting, anguishing question. For Stephen at this point of our story, it must have been very clear. To discern what the death and resurrection mean, to discover our own limits, our own mortality, and how we are going to live life fully in recognition of that/, is a Christian form of expressionism, if you will, a state of mind for our lives. It is the time in the church year for us to think about what has happened and have the impact of it connect in a personal way, to literally color our life. It may be time to pull up a chair somewhere and listen for the ‘still, small voice’ inside us, the breath of spirit that has already seeped past the protection of our hands.

If we never lower our hands, if we hold tightly to the idea that the kingdom is only in the next world, or for others who are stronger to accomplish, we miss our chance to bring the kingdom of God to this generation. If we keep our ears covered we fail to learn what God, through scripture, and through others, both friends and enemies, might have to tell us. By not listening we could miss the words that might set us free of our tightly held beliefs, beliefs that keep us from becoming the fullness of person that God calls us to be. Worst of all by not listening, by being afraid of the power we have, we might be deaf to the cries of those who need us, to know them, to heal them, to lift them up.

This gospel was a rallying cry for strength in the early church, a touchstone to help the believers re-find the “way”, and if we ‘incline our ears’, it is still a rallying cry for strength in a world desperate for our help, this very day.

Amen.