A Silent Sermon
By J. Michael
Shannon
Communion services
usually are very quiet gatherings.
The music is
usually soft, and people do not talk and laugh among themselves. This is almost
universally true regardless of the church tradition of those partaking. While
there is an appropriate sense of joy in the celebration of what Jesus has done
for us, there is also a silent awe that comes over us because of the magnitude
of the sacrifice.
And so it was for
a monk, as the old story goes, who was assigned to do the homily for the
brothers in his monastery. He had never preached before, and he announced he
would be preaching on the love of Christ. The brothers wondered what he could
say on that topic that would be original.
When it came time
for the message, the lights went out. Silently the monk came to the front of
the chapel and proceeded to light a candle. He held the lit candle up to the
crucifix on the wall, and let the light linger on the wounded feet of Jesus. He
then moved the candle slightly so the congregation could see the wounded hands
of Jesus. He paused for them to see the wounded side of Jesus. Finally, the
candle highlighted the wounded brow of Jesus.
Saying nothing, he
blew out the candle and dismissed the crowd.
Was it really a
sermon? The brothers thought so, and so do I. He had led the worshippers to
meditate on the wounds of Christ.
Something similar
happens when we look at and eat the bread, which represents Christ’s body, and
when we look at and drink the cup that represents his blood. Silently, we look
at the bread, and it speaks to us. Silently, we look at the cup, and it speaks
to us. We could talk long and wax eloquent about the sacrifice of Christ, but
it needs no rhetorical flourishes from us.
The suffering of
Christ speaks to us in the quietness of the moment. That is a sermon worth
listening to.
(J. Michael Shannon
serves as a professor at Johnson University, Knoxville, Tennessee.)
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