Some years ago we were with some friends. Our children were about the same age and seemed to get along. My friend, the father, was quite intellectual and could get lost in a thought or a concept–sort of like the absent-minded professor. I remember that my friend and I were engaged in a conversation, quite a deep one, and we heard a shout of the name of one his children. I heard the shout and turned just in time to see the child fall–she was 3 or 4–and catch her before she came to harm's way. My friend continued on with his conversation as if nothing had happened or was happening. He hadn't heard his wife call out the child's name. He really hadn't heard me reach out and catch the child. When our friends went home Janet and I both recalled the incident and were very thankful that nothing untoward happened, and we laughed a bit at the whole situation and at my friend's tremendous focus and consequent inability to listen to the things going on around him.
Well, as usually happens, the circle has come around fully. These days I can get so engrossed in a conversation, a TV program, a book, an email, or just looking out at a beautiful vista that I tune out things around me. When our kids are home–and I'm not used to having them around like I used to–they'll speak to me and realize that I'm not listening. Then, they'll go find mom and sometimes I'll find them laughing together; and when I ask what they are laughing at, they'll usually tell me that they're laughing at me. I've become my absent-minded friend!
A lot has been written about listening. We just sang a little verse written by John Bell of the Iona Community, "Listen to the word which God has spoken. Listen to the One who is close at hand. Listen to the voice which began creation; listen even if you don't understand." Linnea Good has written a song that is equally poignant, "Listen in the silence. Listen in the noise. Listen for the sound of the Spirit's voice." This is the kind of spiritual listening that is so key to our spiritual life.
There is what is called active listening, which is a technique of pastoral care. This is the kind of listening in which we engage the other deeply and openly. Our words, when we use them, indicate that we are listening–sometimes we repeat what we've said. There is empathy and a connection that holds the other person in a special embrace of being heard. There is a wonderful parable that I came across when I was a student; it was used as a thesis for a friend's paper on ministry. It is a parable based on this idea of active listening–and it is active for it takes lots of concentration to listen well. The parable is by Nell Morton, a feminist from the 70's. This is a short version of the parable:
A Group of women gathered around a wise and trusted teacher. One of the women asked, "What must I do to serve God?" The teacher replied, "You must love tenderly, act justly and walk humbly but proudly with your God." Another woman asked, "But how shall we do this?" The teacher replied, "Sit with one another and speak together about your lives." And the women thought that this was a strange way to serve God–and they looked at each other somewhat suspiciously, seeing that they were young and old, married, divorced, single, in relationships not always valued and respected by others; they were white, black, native, Asian; university educated and illiterate; they were boisterous and shy; they were rich and poor, courageous and frightened. But one by one, they began to speak... of caring for children and ageing parents; they talked about marching in peace demonstrations and going to prayer meetings; of teaching Sunday School and speaking in governments and councils; they spoke of dancing and studying; of listening and talking; of doubting and trusting; of joy and of pain; of hope and of despair. And as they talked, they began to understand why their teacher had asked them to sit together. They began to see how each of them, in different ways, was serving God. The women began to think again about their own paths and the implications of each step they took, each word they spoke, and each time they remained silent. As they thought about their lives, they thought about the moments when they were "silenced" by outside forces or by their own fear. They thought about how some words are more welcomed than others, especially the words that bring comfort and not the ones that bring challenge. They thought again how they needed to "hear each other into speech." They needed to take themselves and others seriously as agents of love and justice. They went back to their teacher to ask more questions. But they found the teacher prepared to leave. They were saddened that the teacher was leaving. The teacher told them, "The wisdom I impart is born of love, of commitment, of respect, of courage. Its roots are in each of you. The fruit of wisdom is born and nurtured when you come together as agents of love and when you go into the world."
We are called to "hear each other into speech," to actively listen to one another for listening gives life.
Some of you may remember W.O. Mitchell's book Who Has Seen the Wind?. Whenever I hear that phrase or title, what always strikes a chord in me isn't seeing the wind, but hearing the wind. I love listening to the wind, whether it's a storm and howling winds, or whether it's a gentle breeze. When I'm out hiking, especially when I'm alone, I like nothing better than to sit under a pine tree, with its pungent smell, and listen to the wind.
The act of listening isn't related to the physical act of hearing. It is partly, but it is more a sense of recognition. One of the marvels of animals–and we have this capacity, too–is that mothers and fathers can pick out the noise that their offspring make, especially in times of danger. Like the penguin, if your remember The March of the Penguins.
This parable section of Matthew's Gospel is really about listening. Several times in chapter 13, Matthew quotes Jesus as saying, "Listen!" In interpreting the parables, Matthew repeats Jesus' injunction to listen. And it's a multi-faceted listening. We listen with our ears. We listen with our hearts. We listen with our minds. We listen for what's being said. We listen for what's not being said. We listen for inspiration. We listen for learning. We listen out of respect. We listen to change our ways. We listen so that authorities might practice justice. We listen each other into speech and life and love! The story of Ludwig Beethoven is a powerful one in many ways. But what is powerful is that long after he lost his hearing, he could still listen. He could look at a score and hear the music. We could put notes on the sheet and hear how the chords go together; he could hear the soaring violins or the blaring trumpets or the thump of the timpani. He still listened. Elders in extended care are still listening even when they show no signs of having heard; start to play an old song or a hymn or speak a well-known prayer and see what happens. We folk who live in this day and age in the midst of so much sound are challenged to listen. We sometimes have difficulty suspending our need to use words and letting silence gather around us. Or like Elijah, we listen to the wrong things. Was it an earthquake in which God was speaking, or a powerful wind, or the sound of fire? No, it was in the sound like sheer silence, what the RSV translates as "a still small voice." I like the "sound like sheer silence."
Listening is an active way of practicing spirituality. And it is active. It is not a passive thing. Listening opens us up to new experiences in life–to experience the delight of living in new ways, to experience the delight of love in new ways, to experience the delight of friendship or companionship.
As Jesus said again and again, "You who have ears to hear, listen!" Listen to the good news; listen one another into speech. Ultimately, listen so that you might grow in the love that is abundant all around us all, and that the world might experience anew the wonder of peace, freedom, justice and love.
Amen.
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