“Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD;the LORD will pass by.
There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains
and crushing rocks before the LORD—but the LORD was not in the wind;
after the wind, an earthquake—but the LORD was not in the earthquake;
after the earthquake, fire—but the LORD was not in the fire;
after the fire, a tiny whispering sound.”
Violent wind, earthquake, fire. Unequivocal, powerful, majestic. This passage from The First Book of Kings in the Old Testament is one of the great instructions in the spiritual life. It is surprising, at the time it was written and today. The powerful natural phenomena of wind, earthquake, and fire would be the expected domain of God. The surprise is that God, the LORD, was not in any of those, but in the “tiny whispering sound,” or as some translations say, “a still small voice.”
God is solitarily transcendent, alone beyond our reach. Omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent, the all knowing, all powerful, and ever present God is simply unaffected by our schemes or plights. A great chasm exists between God and us by God’s very nature, and by ours. He is a great mystery, shrouded in an impenetrable veil, beyond our ability to grasp or comprehend fully. Nothing we do can add to God, take away, or harm. He is the actor, not the one acted upon. God is great.
Wind, earthquake, fire, and we might add mountains, oceans, the sun, moon, and stars, rivers, Lebanon Cedars (or any large trees), deserts, lightning, tornadoes, etc., seem to be the best options in our experience to peer into the mystery of our God. We have for centuries tried to capture the majesty and beauty of God in soaring cathedrals, at greater and greater heights with walls of colored glass. It is not hard to imagine our transcendent God when walking into the church at St. Boniface, for example. Lifting our eyes, it is easy to think, “God is here.”
Yet, the passage above reveals something more. For Elijah, God was not in any of those things. Think of the moment of creation. God spoke and so it was. If I were making a movie of that moment, I would probably cast James Earl Jones with a powerful booming voice. With today's reading in mind, however, it might have happened in a whisper, uttered so small and imperceptible that the only way to hear would be intimately close, the voice of love.
When God spoke his final Word, Jesus, isn't that how it happened? A single fertilized cell in Mary’s womb that would grow into a baby born in a manger to die on the cross in a marginal and obscure edge of the Roman Empire. A whisper. Emmanuel. God with us. Our transcendent and great God is also immanent, present, with us. Out of love and for love, God crosses the great chasm to be with his people.
The coo of a baby, the purr of a kitten, the flight of a hummingbird, the gentle fall of a leaf, a single drop of rain. God chose to come close to you and me, closer than our own heartbeat. It is why the piece of furniture we use to celebrate the Eucharist is both altar and table, for sacrifice and meal, transcendent and immanent. God is with us and, perhaps, the only way we can hear is the still small voice of love.