Listen to the story, the senior sermon of Pamela Brouker, Class of 2005 from the Southwest Texas Lutheran Synod, delivered in Christ Chapel on December 14, 2005

God of many voices thank you for this opportunity to gather to worship. May we be challenged by your love, to hear voices we fear, voices of change and renewal, distress and commotion, so that we may join again, in your communion.

Amen.

My time here at LSPS/ETSS I've learned something about the experience of a silent majority, particularly in Texas, and more recently at my internship site in Colorado. We do not hear about the experiences of Countries to our south. Huge and fascinating places like, Mexico, Guatemala, and Honduras, South America and the Caribbean are minimally understood in churches, yet they exist as neighbors and producers of fruits, vegetables and consumer goods we get for minimal cost and they make for….nothing…. They have served us for many years and we do not see them, nor hear their voices. But, if we listen…we will hear.

Likewise, I am more aware of the challenges of multicultural worship, as we are faced with the failure of the church to face its own silent truth. It's growing up in a country that seems to continue, as if there were no silent voices, no ignoring going on, and no problems present with the systems. But,
What is the price paid by ignoring silent voices?

I invite you presently to Listen to the story of a silent one and listen to the story of your life.
This is a story from one who has no historical words. She has not been remembered by name and so can represent anyone who has experienced nameless silence.

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at that moment, I believed that physical death would not be so bad. I had lived a long life. My fever was gripping and I was tired and useless.

My husband died several seasons past and this left no man to care for my life. Our son died fighting for our land, as a soldier. The pain is diluted, but the hole is never filled.

My daughter and her husband took me in and I've tried not to disrupt their lives, too much. I have worked for the household and my daughter. It is not usual for a member of the wife's family to enter her husband's home.
But, my daughter's husband is no ordinary man.

Frankly, he is one of the loudest men I have ever met. (Laugh and look)

He is loud, messy and …well… consuming. (laugh, give a moment)

My daughter seems to live through him.
He's nothing if not entertaining.

The most recent evidence has been his change of careers, if you'd call it that.

He went from a good paying job, albeit smelly, to something, which seems too daring for my taste. And get this…

He calls it 'Fishin for men!

However, I have it on good authority that there are not only men!

It was there, in the throes of sickness, that I questioned the reality of my own worth and my place.

My daughter had worked all day and spent her last reserves feeding me warm tea when she finally retired. I was alone, my sickness was strong, and I was tired of fighting.

What happened that night, I will never forget. Peter came in after dark, with a man; his newest friend and boss; the talk of all the folks and quite controversial with the authorities. They'd been gone several days at a mob sit in. I'm telling you,
this is the only man I've ever heard could make Peter turn on his heels.
What I wouldn't give to see that!

It was that night I realized what they'd talked about. Even in the throes of my sickness, I felt his presence. He noticed me immediately and called to me, but I didn't respond. And then it happened. More colors than I've ever seen. And with it was an absolute flood of feelings. He touched me and I felt the warmth, the absolute heat, of his presence.
In his touch, I saw all the bright colors of my life; remembered all the joys I've ever experienced. My mother's embrace when I was sick, my pet goat and our goat cheese with spiced crusty bread, falling in love with John and the first birth of our son and then the birth of my daughter. Holding them as infants and watching them grow. All the most beautiful moments in my life, present in an instant and I wanted to live.

When I rose, I looked at him, and offered…. "Do you want some water?"

He replied, "Woman, you have already given me water."

We drank by candlelight and in silence.
At least until we heard a commotion outside and banging on the door.
People from all over knew about this healer man… and were begging for release. Every oddity I've ever seen was present and each was healed. It was a night I will never forget. Exhaustion took over our bodies and we slept, after the last woman left.

As quickly as they came, they were gone again. Before dawn, as if they had some sort of schedule to keep, or undercover plan they kept.

We were scared for them, particularly because that very morning a wild storm came up out of no where and left as soon as it'd come.

We continued to hear stories that were all the more dramatic with personal experience.

The biggest scuttlebutt was the absolute scam that was uncovered in the region to our east. The whole town was indicted when the two ostracized ones were released. Freed, they could now speak about the trouble that had been occurring for years in their area. Generations of land fights, immoral behavior, and great losses, corruption and cheating that went all the way up. We were awe struck that we actually knew who these people were that caused this turmoil. They were quickly silenced.

Now, even in the fear and uncertainty of the times, I have newfound joy. I'm telling the children stories of my mother that I can remember and helping my daughter all that I am able, with a deep sense of Shalom.

Peter is still away with his friends. They are now down in Jerusalem. Peter has even been washing feet of the women and he's asked for his wife to join him on a few of their outings!!!

However now, there are words of retaliation and people are afraid to speak. We've many inquisitors, but we know when to keep quiet.
I smell death again and much fear, but I will always remember what he gave me, my own life.
*********************

Jesus meets us in our silences of dis ease and forgotten places and it is through these silent places that the world is turned up side down. We are called to recognize the ones we often don't hear and don't name, the silences that may even threaten our lives. We must open each other up, as we are able, in order to heal what is broken for wholeness.

Recently, my mother had a fairly serious back injury, of which I did not know about till I went home for my grandfather's funeral. I saw her bent over and rubbing her back. It was then that she described to me some of what happened.

****
"Oh, I was so embarrassed," She bemoaned. "I was carrying the host at church, as I was my week on altar guild and you know how slippery my shoes are. As we were setting up, before church,
Well, I completely lost my balance. I felt soooo baaad. I was so afraid I'd drop all I carried. I landed straight on my back.
Nothing broke though."

I sensed hurt deep in my heart. I hurt because I sensed my mother's own disregard of her body and her externalized value.

The saving the host became a metaphor, as well as my mother's falling on her back.

It was a sheer accident.

And I thought, 'What good does saving the host mean when being broken is its significance?'

'Why did she want to 'save the host' when the Eucharist represents being broken?'

Why could she not relax into her fall, instead of tensing up so in fear that the communion ware would break?

It is in the breaking of the bread that we remember that we cannot take away the broken pieces of our own condition. We are not making ourselves more holy by saving the host. We are made whole in Christ's joining us in our human condition of limitations and shortsighted perspectives. It is only through the broken experience and the breaking of the bread that we join Christ, in his joining us, and transforming us together, to see each other more clearly, in our common humanity.

We don't have to break ourselves for healing. AND
We don't have the right to break others, for our release.

As Christ is divided up between us, on this one playing field,
we are responded to and called to respond to each other. Being voiceless is not a requirement. The requirement is to be full of speech and to listen.

Healing comes through change and change comes through silent places that are already deep in transformation and renewal through the Spirit who meets all the faithful, in their broken places.

Our listening to the silent voice is essential for community of faith. When we ignore the truth and believe our nation is 'fine', that our church is
'fine', then we are vulnerable to a false holiness that has nothing to do with reality. The voices are telling us many things, but it is only through our listening that we participate in the transformation and healing Christ offers. We cannot pretend we are not broken, but must seek healing, together for the transformation of community. Not ostracizing other's who are different, but recognizing their critical voices, our own dis eases and need for healing, through Christ and with the power of the Holy Spirit and by The creator and covenant making God.

Amen