August 15, 2017
Editor’s Note: Paulist Fr. Mark-David Janus preached this homily at the 5:15 p.m. Sunday Mass on August 13, 2017, at the Church of St. Paul the Apostle in New York City. It is presented here in the format in which Fr. Mark-David shared it on his Facebook page that day.
I was flying into Savannah
To spend some time with my sister on Hilton Head Island.
July being what it is in the deep South,
Thunderstorms delayed my flight just long enough
To get everyone cranky.
I realized everyone’s plane was delayed when a mob
Surrounded the car rental desk-it’s hour’s drive to Hilton Head.
The rental line was as long as the flight
which improved no one’s mood.
Standing in line, trying to be polite and avoid mortal sin
I caught sight of one couple in the line next to me.
The man was tall, thin white legs poking out of Bermuda shorts
That did not match the wrinkled Hawaiian shirt
and bedraggled straw hat.
He was looking down at his wife,
a woman who maybe reached halfway up his chest.
She was wearing deep green shorts and a pink shirt
With pudgy legs swelling out of her sandals.
She reminded me of a watermelon.
She was facing him and complaining in a ringing voice:
“They were stuck on the runway, the flight was bumpy
They only served peanuts; and now the lines were long,
Her feet hurt,
they were going to be late checking into their time share.”
If she were two years old she would have thrown back her head
Screaming and wailing her misery.
He just stood there, looking down so he could see into her eyes
He was intently listening, so if to not miss a word she said,
Although everyone in the airport could hear every word just fine.
He mumbled a few words urging her to be patient
Telling her it would be alright-but this only agitated her,
So he stopped talking.
Never taking his eyes off her, his white bony hand reached
Up and started stroking and rearranging her hair.
She had the sort of hair you have when
you are just starting or just recovering from chemotherapy.
It was stringy and multicolored, just strands really
– over her bald head.
Her hairs were sweaty and they stuck together
and pasted themselves on her scalp.
His fingers were stroking and rearranging her hairs
So they went from front to back
“You are beautiful” he softly drawled,
“You are beautiful darling, so beautiful, beautiful.”
Never taking his eyes from hers he spoke so softly
No one could hear him for her complaining.
But she heard him.
Throwing her gesticulating arms around his waist,
Pressing her face into his chest in sweaty hug,
All her fears, tiredness and insecurity pressed into him.
He threw his scrawny arm around her shoulders,
Kissed the top of her balding head,
his bony hand still arranging her hair
as he repeated his drawl,
“You are beautiful, You are beautiful darling, so beautiful, beautiful.”
We are told in today’s scripture
that when Elijah heard the voice of God
Whisper to him in the still small voice – he wept.
Tears came to my eyes.
“How much he loves her” I thought to myself.
Tears came because it was so tender.
Tears came because I was jealous;
I wanted someone to love me like that
To stroke away my burdens and frustration.
Tears came because I wondered if I ever loved anyone
As much as this man loved this woman.
But most of all tears came, because like Elijah
I had just heard the still small voice of the God of love
Whispering in the lobby of National Car Rental.
We expect the voice of God to be pyrotechnics;
The thunder, fire bolt, earthquake and whirlwind –
That demands our attention and cannot be avoided.
We expect that God will produce special effects that
Exceed the noises and miracles we produce on our own.
While God can do all that, he seldom does.
In today’s gospel Jesus just finished
the miracle of loaves and fishes,
An impressive special effect if ever there was,
So you would think
Jesus would be feeling pretty good about himself,
He’d be going to bed confident in his power and achievement
Confident that he was God’s beloved Son after all.
But he doesn’t, the gospel says he shoo-ed everyone else away
And at night, crept off to pray, to listen
for the still quiet voice of God whispering to His soul.
Elijah and Jesus, wonder workers in their own right,
Took time to listen for the still quiet voice of God speak to them.
They did not expect God to overwhelm them.
We need to hear God whisper into our soul with a voice
that listens to our wailing, answering:
“I am sorry things are so hard for you.
I am sorry you are frightened.
I am sorry you are disappointed.
I am sorry you can’t walk on water.
I am here with you, and I am going to hold you.
You are not alone, we’ll get through this together.”
Maybe you will hear God’s still small voice speaking to you
In the moments after you receive communion today,
Or as you watch a sunset on Fire Island,
Or lay in the Sheeps Meadow in Central Park,
Or drift to sleep tonight.
Like Elijah and Jesus we have to be ready to hear His voice
We have to expect to hear Him –
Not in spectacle but in quiet moments, God whispers to us.
If God’s still small voice can happen in an airport lobby
It can happen anywhere, on the subway, on the street,
If today’s gospel story of Peter is to be believed
God’s voice can be heard even when we are drowning,
Whispering to us:
“You are beautiful.
I am here with you, and I am going to hold you.
You are not alone, we’ll get through this together.” Amen.
Paulist Fr. Mark-David Janus is president and publisher of Paulist Press.