The seats are empty as a voice echoesagainst the walls. There is nothing to stop the vibrations, no ear, no body, no mind. At one time there was excitement to hear the words. But now those words cannot compete with “a word from our sponsor”, “have it your way” or “in the face of tragedy go out and purchase a bauble and bead, the economy the strength of your country depends on it.” And too many go, without thinking, without hesitation without knowing why and support the view that all is well. And the voice in the sanctuary speaks to fewer of new possibility but there are fewer and fewer ears to hear the words. And even to those present the words are unabsorbed. Minds are busy considering “what is for lunch”, “I could be out fishing”, or I should be drinking coffee reading the paper or watching an old movie.” Thoughts of how to entertain themselves, where they would like to go on vacation or what can I do next weekend abound in this holy space.
The words get lost, as the empire wants them to be lost. Lost in a mire of things and ideals that have been taught since youth when the first school teacher said, this is how its done, the colors of the picture are set, the perception of authority is unquestionable. The nods and desire to please affirmed the beginning of slavery, the start of capitulation.
And the voice from the robed one speaks but there are now even less to absorb the sound. They are sleeping and tired from working for the empire, making more and more bricks, working overtime, pushing the papers, working the double shift to make sure that Pharaoh is pleased and that the empire stays strong in its ability to conceal. Conceal its treachery and the darkness that steals from the masses the freedom it pretends to give and the rights it parcels out as shackles.
And the voice with outstretched hands calls for courageous hearers but the words bounce back with little interference from the open spaces where souls once sat. The robed speak of an alternative to the empire, another way to live in the land of Pharaoh. Offered are options to the shackles of the market place, shared are keys to open the caged soul, hope is pass to the remnant of people who once toppled the very forms that now enslave.
Yet from some of those still seated, are shouted the words “blasphemy”, “traitor”, and “anarchist”. And by this the words of the robed and yoked are shouted down, or unfinanced to keep the dangerous ideas from spilling into the minds of the young or the spiritually hungry. Even some those who are robed as well are fearful of those words and so sooth the edges. It may mean peril to them if they continue, it may mean poverty or disgrace from those who are too busy, too tired or too unaware to support the now compromised speaker.
Yet there are those who speak the words of freedom, that offer an alternative to the status quo, that offer the soul a path upon which to travel. It is from the words spoken that bounce against the wall, against the table of sacrifice and across the rail of penance that lands on the ear of one who is awake. That word stirs within them and the pulse quickens, the eyes open, and feet begin to march to a beat others can’t hear. They march to a cadence set by those before who have heard the words and spoken them too, “I have a dream”, “I saw a new Jerusalem”, “Blessed are those who are persecuted”, “In the year that King Uzziah died”, “In the beginning…”
And from those echoing words, from the conscious souls of those who dare to hear and arise from their seats is formed an alternative community that embraces freedom not given by the empire, who feel the explosive spirit of the Creator and who are on their way to become whole.
Only those who dare to listen to the echoing words understand what it means to be filled with soul and move from that place into the presence of the creating power free, free from the shackles and mind numbing ways of the empire