"The Voices We Heed" (June 14, 2026 Sermon)

The Voices We Heed

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing·June 14, 2026·Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

3rd Sunday after Pentecost (Year A)

1 Kings 12:1-17

Rehoboam went to Shechem, for all Israel had come to Shechem to make him king. When Jeroboam son of Nebat heard of it (for he was still in Egypt, where he had fled from King Solomon), then Jeroboam remained in Egypt. And they sent and called him, and Jeroboam and all the assembly of Israel came and said to Rehoboam, “Your father made our yoke heavy. Now, therefore, lighten the hard service of your father and his heavy yoke that he placed on us, and we will serve you.” He said to them, “Go away for three days, then come again to me.” So the people went away.

Then King Rehoboam took counsel with the older men who had attended his father Solomon while he was still alive, saying, “How do you advise me to answer this people?” They answered him, “If you will be a servant to this people today and serve them and speak good words to them when you answer them, then they will be your servants forever.” But he disregarded the advice that the older men gave him and consulted with the young men who had grown up with him and now attended him. He said to them, “What do you advise that we answer this people who have said to me, ‘Lighten the yoke that your father put on us’?” The young men who had grown up with him said to him, “Thus you should say to this people who spoke to you, ‘Your father made our yoke heavy, but you must lighten it for us’; thus you should say to them, ‘My little finger is thicker than my father’s loins. Now, whereas my father laid on you a heavy yoke, I will add to your yoke. My father disciplined you with whips, but I will discipline you with scorpions.’ ”

So Jeroboam and all the people came to Rehoboam the third day, as the king had said, “Come to me again the third day.” The king answered the people harshly. He disregarded the advice that the older men had given him and spoke to them according to the advice of the young men, “My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add to your yoke; my father disciplined you with whips, but I will discipline you with scorpions.” So the king did not listen to the people because it was a turn of affairs brought about by the Lord to fulfill his word that the Lord had spoken by Ahijah the Shilonite to Jeroboam son of Nebat.

When all Israel saw that the king would not listen to them, the people answered the king,

“What share do we have in David?    We have no inheritance in the son of Jesse.
To your tents, O Israel!    Look now to your own house, O David.”

So Israel went away to their tents. But Rehoboam reigned over the Israelites who were living in the towns of Judah.

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Last week, we gathered with Solomon and the Israelites as he stretched his arms out to heaven and dedicated the glorious, newly constructed Temple to God’s glory. It had been years in the making. And in that moment, the Israelites celebrated not only this sacred space, but also the credentials it gave them on the geo-political stage. Just two generations prior, Israel was largely a nation of hill-country farmers. But this Temple put them on the map. It established their reputation. And that moment, when Solomon both basked in the glory of his and their accomplishment, was the apex of his reign. Unfortunately, everything pretty much went downhill after that.

To make a long story short, Solomon tasted glory and, as do almost everyone in his position, decided he wanted more. Once someone tastes that sort of power, they rarely find their appetite satiated. Solomon hungered for gold; lots of it. He began to cover everything in gold and seized every opportunity to establish himself and, almost as an afterthought, the Israelites as the golden kingdom of opulence, wealth, and power that everyone else needs to submit to. Famously, in the chapters between last week’s passage and this week’s passage, the Queen of Sheba paid a royal visit to Solomon to witness firsthand his golden empire and his storied wisdom. It would seem, however, that that “listening heart” (or lev shomeya) that God granted him back in chapter three began to listen to a voice other than the God who granted it to him in the first place. Instead, Solomon began to listen to the god of gold rather than the God of neighborliness.

The irony is this: everything Solomon did to increase Israel’s wealth and prosperity was perhaps done with good intentions. It was all done in the name of law and order, national strength and prosperity, success and power. However, he forgot the Torah’s mandate of neighborliness. Or, to put it another way in modern vernacular: a booming stock market doesn’t necessarily mean that the hungry are being fed, the naked are being clothed, and the homeless are being housed.

Instead, Solomon began to care more about his power than the people’s well-being. We can, of course, look at history and find no shortage of political leaders who have fallen into this trap. More than two dozen years ago, Walter Brueggemann said the following about Solomon’s folly: “It is odd and noteworthy that the steps taken toward security produce more anxiety. The provisions for happiness produce more tension.” In other words, Solomon’s efforts to make Israel “great” only led to a widening economic gap between the “haves” and the “have-nots.” After all, these building projects relied on forced labor and could only be funded by exorbitant taxes that disproportionately burdened the poor in his kingdom. And it’s only a matter of time before those chickens come home to roost.

Therefore, Solomon died a failed king. Mostly because by the time he had died, he had 700 wives and 300 concubines, and Solomon made the choice to abandon his faithfulness to God’s Torah to follow the pagan religions of his numerous spouses and concubines, most of which were undoubtedly affairs of political alliances and geo-political negotiations. But, most of all, the people had had it. By the time Solomon had died, the people were close to mutiny, fed up with the burden of paying for all of Solomon’s building projects.

Solomon’s Son Inherits

And so it happened that the crown was passed on to Solomon’s son, Rehoboam. However, trouble began to stir before his reign had barely gotten off the ground. The Israelites in the northern part of the kingdom complained to him that Solomon’s reign had been oppressive to their economic security. They essentially asked Rehoboam to turn from his father’s ways and to lighten both the requirements of forced labor for his father’s building projects and their responsibility to fund them with their taxes.

Rehoboam takes their complaint to two groups of advisors before deciding his response. First, he goes to the “old guard,” the advisors who have been around a long time and remember the time before his father became drunk with power and wealth. They advise him to ease the burden and lighten the yoke for his new constituents. “Listen, Rehoboam,” they say, “your father flew a little too close to the sun. He bit off more than he could chew, and you have an opportunity to adopt a more conciliatory posture and return the focus to the well-being of your people over national glory or personal advancement.” Rehoboam mulls it over but remains unconvinced.

Next, he goes to another group of advisers, which the Bible only describes as “younger men.” Brueggemann suggests that these are naive advisors, young enough to have known nothing but the opulence of Solomon’s reign, who tell Rehoboam exactly what he wants to hear. “Don’t listen to those wimps in the northern lands,” they tell him arrogantly. “Now isn’t the time to let up; instead, it’s time to grab the bull by the horns and take this to the next level.” In fact, they urge the young king to respond by telling the northern tribes the following taunt: “My little finger is thicker than my father’s loins.” Now, I will leave you all to extrapolate for yourselves what that particular insult is insinuating. Their entitlement and privilege are music to Rehoboam’s ears.

And so, Rehoboam decides to disregard the people’s discontent. And he does so to his own detriment. In the year 922 BCE, the northern tribes revolt and follow one of his father’s old advisors, Jeroboam, and the kingdom splits. The wonder and the glory of Solomon’s temple are now stained by a kingdom divided. Rehoboam continues his reign in the southern tribes of Judah, and Jeroboam begins his reign as king of the northern tribes of Israel. For the remainder of our time in 1 and 2 Kings, we’ll journey through the divided kingdom until Israel (the northern kingdom) falls to the Assyrians around 722 BCE and Judah (the southern kingdom) falls to the Babylonians around 587 BCE.

Wisdom in Rehoboam’s Folly

Now, I realize this has been a lot of history, and such is unavoidable in the Books of First and Second Kings. But I want to focus on the following because I believe that there’s wisdom to be gleaned from Rehoboam’s folly. I will make the case that Rehoboam did, in fact, inherit his father’s lev shomeya, his “listening heart.” But I believe he learned the hard way what many of us are learning today: that a “listening heart” isn’t a proper moral compass unless we make the intentional choice to listen to voices that help us grow, that challenge us, and give us different perspectives.

I remember back in college reading Doris Kearns Goodwin’s 2005 Pulitzer Prize-winning book Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. In it, she chronicles how Lincoln cleverly filled his cabinet with his former political rivals who differed with him greatly on a variety of political issues. At a time when the country was fractured by civil war and fighting over the issue of slavery, Abraham Lincoln did the very opposite of what Rehoboam did in today’s passage. Rehoboam surrounded himself with nothing but “yes men,” advisors who appeased his desire to continue his father Solomon's vanity projects. Lincoln, by contrast, surrounded himself with people who disagreed with him. And he worked tirelessly to reconcile conflicting factions to bring the war to an end and, along with it, the institution of slavery. Was it messy work? Absolutely. Did it work 100% of the time? Of course not. But Lincoln knew what Rehoboam learned the hard way: that a political leader who listens only to that which he wants to hear is no leader at all.

We Are Leaders Nevertheless

Now, few among us will ever be the president of a country or the king of a nation. But we are leaders nevertheless. We are leaders in our church, in our families and circles of friends, and in our workplaces, non-profits, and boards. We lead simply by being representatives of Christ on earth whenever we step beyond the walls of this sanctuary. And I believe we are stronger when we listen to a multitude of voices and, together, discern which of those voices is leading us in a faithful direction. Because, let us be clear, not all voices are of God. There are voices telling us to turn against one another, to treat our neighbors with suspicion and contempt, and to give in to selfish individualism. But just because we listen to all voices does not mean we heed them all.

So this week, I invite your “listening heart,” your lev shomeya, to be intentional about naming the voices that you listen to and ask yourself the following questions. Who am I listening to? Who am I not listening to? What voices have been pushed to the side?

I’ll close with this observation. In a few short weeks, we will observe the 250th anniversary of the United States. For many of us, this will be a time of celebration. And I want y’all to hear me when I tell you that we don’t have to choose between being Christian and being patriotic. However, part of being patriotic Christians is having honest conversations about our nation’s lev shomeya, its listening heart. Who has this nation’s heart listened to? And who has this nation’s heart dismissed, disparaged, and dehumanized over its 250-year history? As we study this book of the Bible that chronicles the rise and fall of Israel's political regimes, we face the reality that all kingdoms rise and fall eventually, but only God’s faithfulness remains. And you and I can be thankful for the parts of our country that are good and just and moral, while also attuning our lev shomeyas to the voices of those for whom that promise of “liberty and justice for all” has not come to fruition.

Tuning Our Listening Hearts

And so, we close this sermon together by tuning our listening hearts, and our singing voices, to our next hymn, “O God of Every Nation.” I particularly want to draw our attention to the prayer of the second stanza that we will sing together:

From search of wealth and power and scorn of truth and right,
from trust in bombs that shower destruction through the night,
from pride of race and station and blindness to your way,
deliver every nation, eternal God, we pray.

Let us sing…

[sing “O God of Every Nation”]

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s children, say: Amen.

"Can God Really Dwell on Earth" (June 7, 2026 Sermon)

Can God Really Dwell on Earth?

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing·June 7, 2026·Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

2nd Sunday after Pentecost (Year A)

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1 Kings 8:22–30

Then Solomon stood before the altar of the Lord in the presence of the whole assembly of Israel and spread out his hands to heaven. He said, “O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath, keeping covenant and steadfast love with your servants who walk before you with all their heart, the covenant that you kept for your servant my father David as you declared to him; you promised with your mouth and have this day fulfilled with your hand. Therefore, O Lord, God of Israel, keep for your servant my father David that which you promised him, saying, ‘There shall never fail you a successor before me to sit on the throne of Israel, if only your children look to their way, to walk before me as you have walked before me.’ Therefore, O God of Israel, let your word be confirmed that you promised to your servant my father David.

“But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I have built! Regard your servant’s prayer and his plea, O Lord my God, heeding the cry and the prayer that your servant prays to you today, that your eyes may be open night and day toward this house, the place of which you said, ‘My name shall be there,’ that you may heed the prayer that your servant prays toward this place. Hear the plea of your servant and of your people Israel when they pray toward this place; O hear in heaven your dwelling place; hear and forgive.

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You all get a little bit of an unscripted sermon this morning, because it’s been one of those weeks. So I’ll keep my comments brief.

I am grateful this morning for the anthem that Jordan and Abigail just lifted up for us, because it is an incredible segue into the text before us — specifically the line they just sang: the heavens are your tabernacle. The heavens are your tabernacle. “God of glory beyond our galaxy” is a wonderful way into this story, in which Solomon dedicates the temple that had been years and years in the making since the beginning of his reign.

So, friends, let us pray. O Lord, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

Yes, indeed, the heavens are God’s tabernacle. But most of us don’t have the ability to go up into the heavens, so we make places like this one, where we can come and encounter God. And I want to begin by saying that this is not a bad thing.

The Holiness of Beautiful Spaces

I have had the privilege of worshiping in some of the world’s most fantastic and beautiful worship spaces. On Tricia’s and my honeymoon, we went to Rome, and I stood in St. Peter’s Basilica. How many of you have been to St. Peter’s? It is hard to imagine — hard even to explain — just how big and beautiful that space is, with St. Peter’s Square reaching out its arms to embrace the world, as Jesus would have us do. Back in college, I traveled to Istanbul, Turkey, and stood in the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque. The Hagia Sophia is so grand that you can look up and literally watch birds soaring near the top. I’ve worshiped at Washington National Cathedral. I’ve been blessed to officiate two weddings this year at Duke Chapel — even though I hate Duke, it is a beautiful space. And Jasmine and Joshua, as many of you know, were married at Riverside Church in Manhattan. These are beautiful spaces.

And of course, I want to include our own beautiful space here. It may be humble in size, but it is no less beautiful, and it means so much to all of us, for good reason. This sanctuary was one of the reasons I chose to be your pastor. It was very low on the list — because I came here for the people — but the people of this church have gathered in this space since the late 1950s. For decades, this has been a beautiful place where we have gathered: to celebrate weddings and baptisms, to worship and sing, and to weep as we have said goodbye to those we love.

I love that this worship space truly is ours. If you are new to our congregation, when you leave today, take a look at the wood carvings at the end of each pew — carved by members of this congregation nearly seventy-five years ago. This table, at which we are about to break bread, was built by Rick Cromer, whom we sang to heaven about a year ago. And these beautiful stained-glass windows were purchased in the 1950s for a whopping $600. But aren’t they beautiful? This is a wonderful space where we gather, and I want to honor it and give thanks for it.

Solomon’s Remarkable Curveball

I want to set the stage with all of that, because at this point in 1 Kings, it has been several years since Solomon prayed the prayer we journeyed with last week — the prayer in which he asked God for a lev shomea, a listening heart. Since then, Solomon has spent years building this temple. It was a staggering achievement. (If you ever have trouble falling asleep at night and want a few chapters of the Bible to drift off to, the chapters that precede today’s story do nothing but list, in excruciating detail, the temple’s dimensions and adornments.)

And then we arrive at this moment, after all those years of building, when it is finally time to dedicate it. It is important to recognize that this temple was not only a theological accomplishment but also a political decision, meant to place Israel firmly on the geopolitical map alongside other major players. There were many reasons this temple was built. But in this moment, Solomon gathers all the people together in this beautiful worship space and gives thanks to God for meeting them there, going on at length about how the holy will be encountered there.

So we hold that in one hand. Then Solomon throws a remarkable curveball. After rightly giving thanks that God is met in this place — whether that place is the temple, Guilford Park, St. Peter’s, or a small church in the middle of rural North Carolina — it doesn’t matter, because this is where God finds us — after all of that, Solomon has the wisdom to say this in verse 27:

But will God indeed dwell on earth? Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I have built.

I love that line because I think Solomon knew what many of us know: that we sometimes treat our worship spaces in ways we don’t even realize. Without intending to, we can try to domesticate God. As Walter Brueggemann observed many times throughout his scholarship, whether we realize it or not, the very places we build to gather can become places where we attempt to manage and possess the holy. But Solomon says this cannot be done.

God Cannot Be Contained

I want us to remember this day. Yes, indeed, this place is holy. It is where we gather to sing, to pray, to wonder, and to be challenged by the words of Scripture. And yet, Solomon was right: we cannot contain God in this space. My guess is that a sermon like this has been preached from this pulpit before. But all of us — pastors included, myself included — need that reminder from time to time.

Because yes, God is here. And God dwells everywhere.

God dwelt in the hospital room a few weeks ago, beside the bed of Skip Bailey, as I gathered with his family to sing, “There is a Balm in Gilead.” God dwells in the veterinary office when we gather to say goodbye to our furry loved ones. God dwells at the kitchen table during uncomfortable conversations about how we will afford groceries or rent. God dwells in the auditorium where our graduates celebrate their achievements and wonder what comes next. And God will dwell wherever this bread is carried after today’s worship, to our sick and our homebound.

I think this is what makes communion so special. We share it mostly in this room — but not always — because we are gathered in this beautiful space to dwell with God, and then we leave with God, and God goes with us.

Come to the Table

So here is your simple homework assignment for today. Come to the table. Come just as you are, with whatever brokenness you may feel, whatever joy or burdens you may carry, and dwell with God in this space. Meet God here — really here. And then carry the God you meet here out into all the places in the world where God already dwells.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s beloved children, say: Amen.

"A Listening Heart" (May 31, 2026 Sermon)

A Listening Heart

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing·May 31, 2026·Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

1st Sunday after Pentecost (Year A)

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1 Kings 3:3–15

Solomon loved the Lord, walking in the statutes of his father David, except that he sacrificed and offered incense at the high places. The king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there, for that was the principal high place; Solomon used to offer a thousand burnt offerings on that altar. At Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night, and God said, “Ask what I should give you.” And Solomon said, “You have shown great and steadfast love to your servant my father David because he walked before you in faithfulness, in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart toward you, and you have kept for him this great and steadfast love and have given him a son to sit on his throne today. And now, O Lord my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David, although I am only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. And your servant is in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a great people so numerous they cannot be numbered or counted. Give your servant, therefore, an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil, for who can govern this great people of yours?”

It pleased the Lord that Solomon had asked this. God said to him, “Because you have asked this and have not asked for yourself long life or riches or for the life of your enemies but have asked for yourself understanding to discern what is right, I now do according to your word. Indeed, I give you a wise and discerning mind; no one like you has been before you, and no one like you shall arise after you. I give you also what you have not asked, both riches and honor all your life; no other king shall compare with you. If you will walk in my ways, keeping my statutes and my commandments, as your father David walked, then I will lengthen your life.”

Then Solomon awoke; it had been a dream. He came to Jerusalem, where he stood before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. He offered up burnt offerings and offerings of well-being and provided a feast for all his servants.

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Setting the Stage

Today we begin a summer-long journey through the books of 1 and 2 Kings. We’ll spend five weeks on 1 Kings, take a three-week break, and then spend another six weeks on 2 Kings. I invite you to set aside time to read these two books. If you do, I promise you’ll find plenty of juicy stories to pique your interest. 1 and 2 Kings tell the “royal history” of Israel from the death of King David in 962 to the destruction of Jerusalem in 587. The chapters we’ll explore together have it all: palace intrigue, sexual politics, family drama, and, above all, a God who remains faithful throughout the Israelites’ ebbs and flows as they try to do the same.

Before we get to the meat of today’s passage, it’s important to remember where we are in the Biblical narrative. Just before the books of 1 and 2 Kings come the books of 1 and 2 Samuel, which tell the story of King Saul and King David. By the time we reach today’s passage, King David’s meteoric rise has been followed by his fall from grace after the Bathsheba/Uriah debacle. In fact, the very first verse of 1 Kings chapter 1 reminds us of his fragility in his later years: “King David was old and advanced in years; and although they covered him with clothes, he could not get warm.” The once-mighty and invincible David, the very one who conquered Goliath with nothing more than a sling and a rock, now lies shivering in his bed, knocking on heaven’s door. His servants bring in a beautiful young girl named Abishag to “arouse” his vitality, so to speak, from its slumber, but it’s no use. David is old, feeble, and spent. And the vultures begin circling.

By this point, violence has already visited David’s household. One of his sons, Absalom, has already met a nasty end. Absalom never forgave his father for failing to punish his brother Amnon for sexually assaulting their sister Tamar, and he therefore led a rebellion against his father’s house, challenging his father for the throne. Absalom met a memorable, if tragic, end when his head became caught in the branches of an oak tree, and his mule kept on riding, leaving him dangling helplessly until he was eventually found by David’s army and slaughtered. David grieved his son’s death, and this was perhaps the beginning of the end of his reign.

Once it became clear that David’s days were near an end, another of his sons, Adonijah, began vying for the throne behind his father’s back. He launched a PR campaign to solidify support for his candidacy, but Bathsheba (remember her?) had other plans. Though she was stripped of agency in the previous story, where David forced himself upon her and had her husband, Uriah, killed, she now speaks up. She sees the writing on the wall and knows that if Adonijah is crowned king, she and her son with David, Solomon, will be seen as a threat to Adonijah’s legitimacy. Therefore, she conspires with the prophet Nathan to “remind” David that he had promised Solomon the crown. Nowhere in scripture is there a record of this “promise,” so we’re left to wonder whether it really happened or if Bathsheba is perhaps taking advantage of David’s feeble mind. And even if that’s the case, can anyone blame her? She and her husband, after all, were the collateral damage of David’s unsatiated sexual appetite, so perhaps she believes this is an appropriate time for the scales of justice to be rebalanced.

To make a long story short, Bathsheba’s play works. David anoints Solomon as his successor, with all the pomp and circumstance required to legitimize his claim. Not surprisingly, Adonijah’s time on earth was short. In a foolish move, he asks to be given Abishag in marriage, and Solomon interprets this as an attack on his legitimacy. So Solomon has his brother killed. At long last, Solomon has consolidated his power and now sits on the throne that belonged to his father, King David, and to his predecessor, King Saul, before him.

Now, if this is all sounding a bit like the plot of the classic movie The Godfather, you would be right! David is kind of like Don Corleone, who is far past his prime, and the circles of power around him, such as his family and the other families of the Italian mafia, are testing one another to see who will come out on top once he sleeps with the fishes. And after all of these ruthless “Game of Thrones” maneuvers, Solomon finally has a chance to rest his head on his bed and catch up on some sleep as he prepares for his reign to begin.

And that is where we find him in today’s story, or, more specifically, where God finds Solomon. As is often the case with many other characters in the Bible, God meets Solomon in a dream as he slumbers. Solomon had traveled to Gibeon, a so-called “high place” where the Israelites often made sacrifices to God to curry God’s favor. And after the bloodshed that brought Solomon to this point, he certainly could use all the divine favor he could get!

A Blank Check from God

God approaches Solomon in his dream and simply asks him, “Ask what I should give you?” What does one do when one is given a blank check by God Almighty?

If we’re governed by fear, we might ask:

“Keep me safe. Keep my family safe. Make sure nothing bad ever happens to us.”
“Give me certainty - about my health, my future, my children’s future.”
“Let me know how it all ends so I don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

If we’re governed by scarcity, we might ask:

“Give me enough money that I will never have to worry again.”
“Make sure my retirement is secure, my house is paid off, and my kids are taken care of.”

If we’re governed by violence, we might ask:

“Punish the people who hurt me.”
“Vindicate me - publicly, visibly. Humiliate my enemies.”

What questions would you add to that list? Perhaps some that come from a place of genuine good? That our church would grow? That the cancer would be defeated? That gas and groceries would become reasonably priced again?

Solomon could have asked for any of those things (though I don’t think the price of gasoline was high on his list of priorities…). But he asks for none of them. His response is simple: “Give me wisdom.” More specifically, he asks for an “understanding mind” to govern God’s people and discern between good and evil.

His restraint is remarkable. Especially because his recently deceased father, King David, was not known for restraint. But the phrase that is usually translated as “understanding mind” deserves further scrutiny because of its complexity.

The Listening Heart

The “understanding mind” that Solomon asks of God is a Hebrew phrase, לֵב שֹמֵעׇ (“lev shomea”), which literally means “a listening heart” or “a hearing heart.” You may recognize the word shema in the phrase lev shomea because it’s the same word that begins Israel’s central confession of faith: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone…” In his dream, Solomon does not ask to be heard; he asks instead “to hear.” We hear in Solomon’s request much of what inspired the Prayer of St. Francis so many centuries later: O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love.

What I think is equally important about the Hebrew phrase לֵב שֹמֵעׇ (“lev shomea”) is that the verb shomea is in the participle form, a grammatical term that simply indicates continuous, ongoing action. Solomon’s request for a lev shomea isn’t a one-time download of information or enlightenment. Solomon doesn’t ask for a heart that has heard and is now done, but for a heart that is forever listening.

I find in this passage a quiet rebuke of so much of the power baked into our world today. Our current political atmosphere assumes that power means making yourself heard, imposing your will, and being the one everyone must listen to. Solomon, on the contrary, asks to be the one who listens. Would that all of our elected leaders, on both sides of the aisle, adopted such a posture! Would that all of us could find within ourselves the resolve to adopt such a posture in our families, in our schools, in our workplaces, in our churches and faith communities, and in our boardrooms!

I think Solomon’s prayer is a wise one for us in this modern age, given how much knowledge is out there. We live in an age where information is easily accessible at our literal fingertips. Now, whether that information is accurate, unbiased, or factual is another topic altogether! But such makes it even more important that you and I join Solomon in a continual posture of humility, asking for the lev shomea, the “listening heart” that God indeed grants Solomon.

Wisdom in the Age of the Sword—and the Algorithm

But such wisdom, even when granted by Divine Authority, can slip between our fingers if we’re not careful. I find the story that comes immediately after today’s story a telling one in this regard. What follows today’s story is the famous passage in which two women simultaneously claim to be the legitimate mother of a child after the other woman’s child dies in the middle of the night. The two women bring the child and claim to be the biological mother. Solomon famously asks for his sword and threatens to cut the baby in two to divide it equally between the two women. One of the two women quickly objects and begs for the child to be given to the other woman, and therefore Solomon surmises that the woman who objects is the biological mother. The passage is often lifted up as evidence of Solomon’s newly granted wisdom.

Now, I think two things can be true at the same time. First of all, this story is evidence of Solomon’s wisdom. After all, the story concludes with the following verse: “All Israel heard of the judgment that the king had rendered, and they stood in awe of the king because they perceived that the wisdom of God was in him to execute justice.”

But I think another thing can be true at the same time: that even with Solomon’s newfound wisdom, his first instinct is nevertheless to reach for the sword.

And I find that to be an important observation for us to make these days. You and I have unlimited potential at our fingertips, unlike any generation before us. The artificial intelligence boom that has happened just in the last three and a half years, since I’ve been your pastor, has completely changed the world around us, in ways we welcome and in others we may not. In just a few years, AI has gone from a rather abstract futuristic concept to something that feels truly unavoidable (I can’t even order a chocolate frosty at my local Wendy’s without using their AI ordering system!). AI may indeed be an incredible tool that can be used for much good; but it’s a tool nonetheless, and one that can also be used for great harm if not properly regulated, maintained, and made accessible to all, not just a wealthy few.

All this is to say that I think we need the lev shomea that Solomon sought now more than ever. We all need listening hearts attuned to humanity’s near-limitless capacity for both good and ill. We need listening hearts that resist Solomon’s instinct—and that of his father—to reach for the sword as the go-to response to conflict. We need listening hearts that can cut through the constant noise around us to hear the still, small voice of the Spirit, bestowed upon the Church last week on Pentecost. We need listening hearts that understand that wisdom is a precious gift, one that must be tended with the same intentionality a master gardener brings to his plants.

As we continue this five-week sermon series on 1 Kings, we’ll see both the successes and failures of Solomon’s reign, as well as the successes and failures of Israel’s attempts to live faithfully as the recipients of God’s liberation from Egypt. As we continue this journey, may we all seek the lev shomea, the “listening heart” of Solomon’s prayer. And may we understand that wisdom is never a gift to be taken for granted.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s children, say: Amen.