My office in Elizabeth City was on the third floor, near all the youth and children’s classrooms, but far away from everyone else who worked in the church building. There would be lots of activity around me in the afternoon when kids came to tutoring, or when meetings or programs were going on; but on weekday mornings, it tended to be nearly silent around me. Until I would hear the Voice.
The first time I thought I was alone on the third floor and the Voice started talking to me, I thought “Well, this is it. I’ve totally lost it.” But I walked down the hallway and realized the disembodied voice was coming from the speaker in the top of the elevator. A robocaller had dialed the emergency phone line in the elevator car, and apparently that phone line would automatically answer incoming calls. It got to be an entertaining, reoccurring event. I never knew when the Voice From Above would speak to me, but it was always potentially there.
We’re all spending lots of time with disembodied voices. The floating heads in my Zoom calls make me feel like a wizard using the Floo Network. And the absurdity of how we all have to communicate these days keeps reminding me of that elevator voice. As our Zoom meetings and our social media feeds and computer and TV screens are filled with the voices of those we love and those with whom we gather for worship, may we pay attention to the Voice From Above and know that he is still with us. If I were to write an April 2020 translation of the end of Matthew 28, it would include a reminder to myself like “lo, I am with you always, even unto all your social distancing and stay-at-home orders.”
