For the day of the LORD is near against all the nations.
Obadiah is an interesting little book. Just one chapter, it tells the story of the continued fight between Esau and Jacob. True, Jacob stole Esau’s birthright. But then, when Jacob, now Israel, was ransacked and taken into captivity and Esau, now Edom, didn’t help. Not only did Edom not help, Edom gloated over Israel’s misfortune. Given the familial history between their ancestors, Esau and Jacob, it’s understandable.
In recounting all of Edom’s bad actions, the language used is to describe bad days: the day of non-involvement, the day of calamity, the day of pillage. This is contrasted with the day of the Lord, a day not like the bad non-involvement, calamity, and pillage.
The accompanying reflection is from Mother Theresa, who speaks of listening to God in the silence. She notes that the beauty of nature – the growth of trees and flowers, the movement of the sun and moon, all of these things happen in silence. God cannot break through to us in noise and activity, and we need God’s love which we receive in silence, to share with others. We put ourselves in busy, noisy places, but we desperately need to connect in silence, to recharge our batteries, so we have God’s love to share in the noise. She continues with a quote that startles me every time. “To show great love for God and our neighbor we need not do great things. It is how much love we put in the doing that makes our offering something beautiful for God.” It’s not the greatness of our acts, but the love that’s infused in our actions.
So combining these two concepts – the day of the Lord, and the need for silence to hear the Lord, this morning, I’m thinking about how I might build in moments of silence in all of my days, so that all of my days can be the day of the Lord, or at least, I have a chance getting my battery recharged. I’m reminded of a conversation I had with a spiritual guide at one point. I came to see him about what spiritual discipline I should take on during the 40 days before Easter, as a way to prepare and get closer with the risen Christ. Should I assume morning prayer? Praying with a labyrinth, or join a prayer circle? He advised that I should be silent and still for 20 minutes every day. I genuinely told him it would be easier for me to give up breathing. And that’s probably still true. Of all the practices I’ve picked up, dropped, restarted, and tried out, a period of silence and stillness is the only one that doesn’t last very long at all, ever.
Perhaps I’ll tackle them one at a time. Maybe I’ll start with silence while walking, or knitting. Or maybe stillness, while listening to some contemplative music. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. That’s what I want to do.
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