“To
listen intentionally to our lives and the lives of
others.”
Our Kirk Night group promised to engage in this
practice during the coming days.
Lent is a season of awakenings.
Awakening to the still, small voice within.
Awakening to the Risen Christ in everyone we meet.
Friend and foe. Family and stranger. Neighbor and
enemy.
Why listening?
The answer is simple: what did Jesus do in the
wilderness?
He listened. He engaged. He danced with the devil.
What do we notice about the temptations in the
wilderness?
Turning stones into bread seems like a good idea
right now, as many fear where food will come from in
the days following cuts to resources that provide
sustenance.
Authority over the nations seems like a sure way to
bring justice to the world.
Being invulnerable – making a swan dive off the
pinnacle of the temple would epitomize demonstrating
faith in God.
But don’t those responses shift power away from
God—the source of generative energy—and concentrate
it all on one individual? To adopt a stance with
that level of authority seems reminiscent of, well,
Caesar.
So,
why listen this week?
Jesus listened to his accuser with humility and
awareness. In those moments of vulnerability, when
they tried to bait Jesus into abandoning the
vocation God called him, he leaned into the Spirit,
recalling God's love that seeks to liberate all
life, not just his own.
Why listen? Why be intentional with our presence to
self and others?
Listening is a spiritual practice that strengthens
our ability to connect with God and others on a
deeper, more intimate level.
As I listen to the text, I hear Jesus responding in
ways that uplift the essence of community. I don’t
see faith as a transactional relationship with the
Divine when I hear this story. I hear an invitation
to loosen my grip on faith and embrace the wild
spaces as places to explore and encounter what is
beyond and within me.
When I listen to this story, I remember faith is not
a means to an end.
Reflecting on my life through this story, I question
how I can avoid the urge to seek control and measure
success by profit margins and the accompanying
prestige.
Of course, I think of Merton in times like these and
lean into his wisdom:
“…there is only one problem on which all my
existence, my peace, and my happiness depend: to
discover myself in discovering God. If I find [God],
I will find myself, and if I find my true self, I
will find [God].”
Lent signifies the awakening to the presence of the
Risen Christ in our lives. An authentic encounter
with the Risen Christ cannot take place if it is
merely an evasion of self. Instead, it should not
serve as a means of escape. I cannot perceive God
within myself, nor recognize myself within God,
unless I have the courage to confront my true self,
including all my limitations, and to embrace others
as they are, acknowledging their limitations as
well.
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You’re right. Practicing listening to
awaken to the sacred before us involves more than
just putting our cell phones away during supper with
our loved ones. Indeed, it demands more than just
tuning out the TV and the relentless notifications
from our devices. The listening we discussed last
night is about being fully present—to ourselves and
one another. It means listening without considering
how to respond or sharing the latest catchphrase
picked up from Morning Joe. This style of listening
avoids the phrase “Yeah, but.”
Active listening also requires space
for silence. I have found that silence can be
frightening and have observed my clients’ fear of
it. From my experience with this kind of listening,
learned from contemplatives, silence is important
because it allows us to be present to God so that we
can “hear with the ear of the heart.”
Let’s be honest: silence is a rare commodity. Don’t
believe me? Search online for the places in the
world that are free of noise, and you’ll discover
that there aren’t many left.
Silence comes from being attentive to God’s presence
in our lives and allows us to be open to the words
spoken to our hearts. Silence encompasses not just
the quiet of the tongue, but also the stillness of
the mind and emotions.
Why listen? To ourselves and to others? Because the
story of temptation, if we pay attention to the
silence of the wilderness, encourages us to reflect
on our vocations. The very human depiction of Jesus
in the wilderness invites us to identify with him
and emulate how he overcomes each temptation. Is
this story not about the power of the Spirit within
us and engaging in our sacred text to speak
faithfully about God?
In many places I’ve visited recently, I’ve heard
people express their uncertainty about what to do.
I’ve heard individuals share their frustration,
feeling that everything seems hopeless. I’ve also
met people who are quick to say ‘Yeah, but’ instead
of listening to the pains, hurts, and fears of those
they sit with at the table. We listen actively and
intentionally because that's how we ‘walk each other
home.’
Ours is a story about a God who hears
Their people's cries and responds, liberating the
people from enslavement toward a place of promise.
God listens, God weeps, and God acts.
Is this not the call of Lent? To listen, to mourn,
to celebrate, and to take action? Through listening,
we can reconnect with God and ourselves, recognizing
our neighbor as cherished. Only then will we truly
become what we are: BELOVED.
Yeah, it might not be the most glamorous spiritual
practice. It may have seemed like a waste of our
time. Yet, in a moment of our shared existence where
voices are hushed, people talk over each other, and
the demand for our attention is overwhelming, I
can’t help but consider a more radical way to resist
than simply by listening.
[Adam Quine] |
