And the lad Samuel was ministering to the LORD in Eli’s presence, and the word of the LORD was rare in those days, vision was not spread about. And it happened on that day that Eli was lying in his place, his eyes had begun to grow bleary, he could not see. The lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying in the temple of the LORD, in which was the Ark of God [1 Samuel 3:1-3, The Hebrew Bible, tr. by Robert Alter].
Over the past year or so, I have had multiple separate—although parallel—conversations with two close friends who have never met, and yet who express a similar lament that somehow, during the last two or three decades, the church has lost its footing, that instead of encountering the Gospel, our congregations are devoting much of their time positioning themselves within the world of the “red” and the “blue.” The United Methodists are no longer united. Within the Presbyterian church, it seems that there are now more sects than insects. Many Baptists are removing “Baptist” from their signage. Episcopalians can no longer argue about anything; there aren’t enough folks in the pews to articulate two sides to any issue.
Separately, each of my friends articulates a concern that something vital and beautiful has been lost. Each also fears that the church has lost the imagination necessary to reclaim that beauty and vitality. In his own way, each friend wonders if we are witnessing the church’s inevitable demise.
I thought of my two friends yesterday when I encountered the OT reading assigned for this upcoming Sunday [1 Samuel 3:1-10 [11-20], the Second Sunday after the Epiphany, RCL, Year B]. In not a few ways, the so-called modern church appears to have much in common with the prophet Eli. In all too many congregations, the word of the LORD is rare in this day. Many congregants’ eyes have grown bleary. Our heavenly vision is clouded by earthly cataracts.
You know this familiar OT story. Following 40 years of wandering, Israel settled in the Promised Land. For a while, when difficulties arose, God caused a “judge” to arise to shepherd Israel through the difficulty. Over time, however, the proper judges were fewer and further between.
The third chapter of First Samuel opens with the familiar issue of barrenness. Elkanah has two wives, but Hannah, his favorite, has not been able to conceive. Earlier images of Sarah and Rachel come to mind. Hannah begs the LORD for a son, yet during her fervent prayer, she encounters the priest, Eli, who thinks she is inebriated. She tells Eli that she isn’t drunk, just sorrowful. She aches for her prayers to be answered. Eli, not having heard the subject of her prayers, blesses her with the implication that the prayers will indeed be answered.
In her prayer, Hannah had pledged to the LORD that if she was given that son, she, in turn, would give him back to the LORD. Hannah conceives and, after the appropriate period of bringing Samuel up, she gives him to Eli.
Not to get too far down into the weeds here, but in the chapters before this week’s reading, we understand that Eli, though once favored and given an important theological post by the LORD, has lost the LORD’s favor. Eli has allowed his sons to take advantage of their position to take advantage of the people [1 Samuel 2:11-17]. The LORD is angry with Eli. And yet,
[t]he lamp of God had not yet gone out [1 Samuel 3:3]
The young lad, Samuel, is sleeping in the place where the Arc of the Covenant is kept. The voice of the LORD calls out to him. Thinking that he has been summoned by his master, Eli, he runs to the old prophet, who tells the lad that he has not called for him. When the call was repeated the third time, Eli, who is virtually blind—both literally and spiritually—and who has not heard from the LORD himself in some time, puts two and two together. He tells Samuel that if it happens again, that he is to say,
Speak, for Your servant is listening [1 Samuel 3:9].
The LORD, of course, is persistent. As I have written several times recently, the LORD also delights in making interesting or unusual choices. Though Samuel is an outsider, one who is not part of the favored priestly class, the LORD has chosen him—has spoken to him. Alas, however, the news isn’t good for Eli and his family.
Later that night (or earlier that morning), Eli makes Samuel tell him what the LORD has said. Samuel hesitates, but eventually Samuel relents, and tells Eli that the LORD has decided to curse Eli and his entire family. Eli’s sons have scorned God and Eli has refused to restrain them. The LORD has had enough.
Wow! That’s a nice bedtime story. How can such a story speak to the current church—the church about which my two friends so heavily lament? Does it speak to the modern church?
Well, for one thing, the story can remind us that as strong and favored as we might think ourselves to be, the LORD can cast us aside and use others. I’m reminded of John Wesley’s Covenant Prayer—the prayer that is often used in Wesleyan Watch Night Services. In a word, the prayer asks God to use us for big things or, alternatively, to cast us aside and use others. Moreover, the prayer isn’t just uttered by clergy. Indeed, the congregation may feel uncomfortable when they realize that the prayer is for them as well. The LORD’s word to Samuel was that He was going to cast Eli (and his sons) aside. The newly favored outsider would be in charge. Our denominations may once have been favored. It need not always be that way.
The story tells us something else. While Eli’s day is past, he nevertheless plays an important part in the passing of the baton to Samuel. Eli still has an important role to play in the LORD’s grand scheme. He must instruct Samuel. Eli, who hasn’t heard the Voice the LORD in a long time, must convey to Samuel that it is indeed the LORD who is reaching out to the young lad. One wonders, if one has a strange sort of comedic mind like mine, if Samuel would have kept running back and forth between his pallet and Eli’s bed had it not been for Eli’s recognition that the LORD was speaking to someone else. Without Eli’s instructions, God’s Word might never have been heard.
And so, for many congregations/denominations in today’s world, our day may indeed have passed. Yet the LORD still works through His people. The LORD’s message to Samuel signals that Yahweh has not forgotten His people. The LORD can (and will) raise up faithfulness in unusual places.
Three years ago, the last time this scripture passage was the OT reading for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany, I happened to be reading a provocative book written by a different Samuel—the Rev. Dr. Samuel Wells—a former Durham resident. Sam followed Will Willimon as Dean of Duke Chapel. Sam left Duke in 2012 (or thereabouts), returning to his native England to take a position as vicar of St Martin-in-the-Fields, in central London. While not as prolific as Will—no one is—Sam has written, say, 30 books. As I mentioned, in wordy fashion, three years ago, I was reading Sam’s monograph, A Future That’s Bigger Than the Past [Canterbury Press Norwich (September 30, 2019)].
In his book, Sam argues that the church needs to avoid an “unjustifiably rose-tinted view of the living memory past.” It also needs to avoid undue pessimism about the future. The LORD “will not let fall to the ground any of His words” [1 Samuel 3:19]. For Israel, during the time of Eli and Samuel, the best years were not behind; they lay ahead. The same is true for the Christian church, even those tired, worn-down outposts that we see dying before us. As Sam tells us in his fine book, “the best is yet to come,” for in Christ, the future is always bigger than the past. I think those of us in our 70s should find a Samuel—or a Hannah—and nurture them for the exciting days ahead.
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