“…not knowing what he said.”
Luke 9:33
Forty years ago, I took a group of senior high youth on a week-long trip to New York City. The teenagers were from a small town in Virginia, so that journey held the promise of all kinds of new experiences. It turned out to be that sort of adventure, too, as we had a great time doing all sorts of touristy things and on our last night ate dinner in Greenwich Village. We then boarded the subway for a short trip back to the place where I had parked our van.
I began to relax, thinking we had made it through the week without any major problems, but one stop before we got off, the complexion of the trip changed dramatically. I was standing in one corner of the subway car facing the platform and as we slowed to a stop saw that there was someone standing outside with a handgun waiting to enter. Glancing at the other end, I saw a gun outside that entrance as well. When the train stopped two NYPD officers jumped in, got in firing position and began waving their guns from one end of the car to the other.
I was so stunned I couldn’t get out any words to my group and instead slumped to the floor. In doing so, I proved I wasn’t from the City, for there was another man who casually glanced over his newspaper at the unfolding drama and then went back to his reading! I, on the other hand, probably held my breath. After what seemed hours, but was more likely only a few seconds, one officer said to the other “Must be the next train,” and they stepped off!
When we arrived at our stop, I herded those teenagers off and made them run to the van. All of my fears about what could happen on that trip came to the surface and my adrenalin found its release in the gas pedal. Fifteen miles out of the city, I was still burning up the highway when this voice from the back of the van said “John, do you think we are far enough away now that you can slow down?” That comment broke the silence and everyone started talking at once.
While I hope you’ve never had a similar experience in New York or anywhere else, most of us have had occasions when our words fail us. Moments when the event or news we encounter is so surprising, so unsettling, so unexpected that we, too, don’t know what to say. In such occasions there are two responses that come most naturally. Either we stand there tongue-tied as I did on that subway car or we begin talking, hoping something worthwhile will emerge.
Both responses are displayed in the scene from which the above verse comes. Jesus has taken Peter, John, and James to the top of a mountain and while praying, he is transfigured, that is, takes on a heavenly glow. Jesus’ clothes turn brilliantly white and Moses and Elijah–two leaders from Israel’s past–appear with him. They are talking with Jesus about his impending departure from Jerusalem while the disciples look on in amazement. That conversation is interrupted, though, when Peter speaks up. “Master,” he says, “it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”
Luke notes that Peter didn’t know what he was saying, but that disciple was certainly trying to find appropriate words. Yet a cloud comes over the group and they are silenced as another voice speaks. “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” Immediately, the cloud dissipates and Jesus is alone once again with his followers. Thus ended all conversation about those events, both as they walk down the mountain and for the rest of the time Jesus is with them.
For you and me there are occasions when the best thing we can do is remain silent, too.
Not because there is nothing to be said, but because the moment isn’t right. Not a silence of absence, either, but a silent presence that allows a person to know she or he is not alone and allows us time to think through what has occurred. Such an initial response doesn’t mean the time will never come for words. Just because conditions are not right in a particular moment does not mean the occasion will never come; only that silence is the best first response in the moment.
We will never reach the place in which we always know when to speak and when to keep silent, when to offer our reaction and when to keep our words to ourselves. Yet one of the gifts from that Biblical scene is the permission to accept moments when it isn’t time to speak. Knowing that simply in standing with one another in the hard and confusing moments of life we can still offer comfort and strength even when truly, there are no words.
Eternal One, silence can be golden, but often is missing from this noisy and confusing world. Help me to resist speaking words in those moments when the better gift is quiet. Amen.
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