Becoming a Master Listener

Over the years, the children of several of my friends have learned to play the violin using the Suzuki method, which entails listening to notes and imitating them. It is interesting that according to the October 17, 2020, issue of The Writer’s Almanac, “Suzuki felt strongly that he was not just tutoring musicians, but nurturing souls, and he encouraged his students to listen to other people as carefully as they listened to the notes on their violins.”

St. Benedict said to “Listen and incline the ear of your heart,” so I believe he would wholeheartedly endorse Suzuki’s method of instruction. We can use the Suzuki method ourselves to become master listeners by imitating how carefully God listens to us.

We forget sometimes how closely God pays attention to us. However, as Psalm 139 reminds us, “O Lord, you have searched me and you know me; you understand my thoughts from afar; with all my ways you are familiar.” Apparently God listens to us very carefully, even when we are not aware of it.

To be listened to is to be known and affirmed. We can offer this gift to others, as God offers it to us. The next time you listen to a beautiful piece of music, may it call you to listen to others with the same level of attention. Listening attentively is a way we can be holy as God is holy.

 

Called As We Are

Robert Ellsberg said this of St. Teresa of Avila: “She could be at turns charming, imperious, irreverent, and impossible, depending on the circumstances and the provocation.” We don’t tend to think of saints as being imperious, irreverent, and impossible. However, as Ruth Burrows notes, “Union with Christ does not mean becoming someone different, renouncing our gifts, changing our temperament; but putting everything we have into our love for God and opening everything we have to his transforming influence.”

Attaining sainthood does not mean becoming a Stepford wife—an unthinking, unchanging, colorless automaton. On the contrary, it is through our humanness that we can appreciate and respond to the struggles of others, as Jesus did. I also suspect that the people Jesus encountered were able to hear and trust his message not because he projected an image of perfection but because of his very human wit, impatience, devotion, unpredictability, and generosity.

For some reason, it is difficult for us to grasp that God truly does delight in our individuality. Yes, we have faults, but they have a hand in helping us develop courage, insight, and patience. When love of God is the basis of who we are, then everything—our gifts, our temperament, our limitations—works together to fashion a life of praise, service, and the joy of union with Christ. As Teresa herself said, “Whoever has God lacks nothing; God alone suffices.” Thanks to Jesus, our brother, we know that there is no one who does not have God—there is no one God does not embrace with love and mercy.

 

Our Borrowed Life

A song by Isaac Watts (1674-1748) includes this line, addressed to God: “All that borrows life from you is ever in your care.” I’ve never thought of us as borrowing life from God. However, if it is true that “In Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28), in a sense we do borrow life from God. That applies not just to humans, but to all the created world.

What are the implications of borrowing life from God? First, as Watts notes, anything that carries a piece of God’s life is known by God and is in God’s care. As Psalm 147 observes, “He counts the stars and calls them all by name.” Jesus himself said, “Even the hairs of your head are all numbered; therefore, you shall not be afraid….” (Lk 12:7).

If everything that exists borrows life from God, then everything is holy and deserves to be honored and nurtured. Everything is in God’s care, but it should be in our care as well. This attitude fosters the health and well-being of all creatures and of earth itself.

The habitats that make up our planet are by design connected and rely on each other. As humans slash and burn forests, alter the temperature of the oceans, farm grasslands, and contribute to the melting of polar ice caps, these connections are broken and can no longer sustain life. Yet we still have time to make other choices and take the earth into our care. As Sir David Attenborough observes in his film A Life on Our Planet, “I may not be here to see it, but if we make the right decisions at this critical moment, we can safeguard our planet’s ecosystems, its extraordinary biodiversity and all its inhabitants. What happens next is up to every one of us.”

One day we will be called to return the life we have borrowed from God. We are more likely to have a peaceful death if we have used that life to increase God’s harvest of love and compassion.

Hearing the Word of God

In Luke 11:27-28, a woman calls out to Jesus “Blessed is the womb that carried you and the breasts at which you nursed,” and Jesus replied, “Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.” Jesus was not discounting what his mother had done for him, but rather reframed it; Mary was one who heard the word of God, and in her case, she responded to it by agreeing to be the mother of God’s son.

Most of us think about hearing the word of God in Scripture, but Mary’s experience shows us that God speaks to us in a variety of ways. Our angels generally don’t appear to us in the form of Gabriel, but often they speak God’s word to us through a teacher, grandparent, or friend who helps us find our path. Our intuition is another angelic messenger that warns us against following false paths and gives us the confidence to respond to God’s invitation, wherever it may lead.

Because God’s word may come to us in a variety of guises, we must stay attentive and listen with the ear of our heart, as St. Benedict says. One of the questions I consider in my examen at the end of the day is “How did God speak to me today?” The messages that are filtered through prayer and my encounters with other people and nature are usually simple and direct: “Be kind.” “Be patient.” “Don’t judge.” “Remember I am with you.”

After we have trained ourselves to hear the word of God, we must follow the second part of Jesus’ directive and observe it—that is, let it change our lives. This isn’t easy because, as St. Benedict says in his Rule, it means “Your way of acting must be different from the world’s way” (Chapter 4, verse 20). It is much easier to assimilate to our culture and go along to get along. No wonder Jesus called those who hear the word of God and observe it “blessed.” They have chosen the path less traveled, and that has made all the difference.

Servants of God's Peace

The hymn O God of Light by James Quinn, SJ, includes this line: “Make us servants of your peace.” What does it mean to be a servant of God’s peace?

In Philippians 4:7, Paul says, “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Thus we know that if we wish to be a servant of God’s peace, we must be comfortable with mystery; we must allow Christ to guide us; and that we must devote both our hearts and our minds to cultivating peace.

Persons who are content to live with mystery must learn to act contrary to their instincts. Instead of living in fear that we won’t have enough, we can live in the peace of knowing that what we already have is sufficient and even abundant. Instead of fretting about how to protect our possessions, we can give them away and free ourselves from worrying about them. Instead of fearing that we will be alone and unloved, we can generate love by loving others.

God’s peace will guard our minds when we put on the mind of Christ, which means that we trust God will always provide for us and we offer others forgiveness and mercy. God’s peace will guard our hearts when we love the way Jesus did—that is, by loving God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength and loving our neighbor as ourselves.

In an anxious world, we can be servants of peace by cultivating peace within ourselves, which entails becoming comfortable with mystery, trusting in God’s providence, and following Christ’s guidance. When we are in the presence of a peaceful person, we relax, smile, and have a sense of well-being. As servants of God’s peace, we can offer that gift to others who are greatly in need of it. 

Expanding Our Imagination

St. Benedict had the imagination to discard a dichotomous, hierarchical approach to life in favor of an inclusive model of shared responsibility. You might say he discarded “either/or” for “and/with.”

The men who asked to join St. Benedict’s monasteries were a motley crew: nobles and peasants, priests and the uneducated, scholars and farmhands. Yet rank in the community was determined not by age, occupation, level of education, or wealth but by the date one entered the community. Furthermore, no one was exempt from serving at table except for those who were infirm/ill or were called to other service, such as offering hospitality to guests.

St. Benedict also leveled the playing field by insisting that no one in the community was to have any personal property: clothing, bedding, food, medicine, books, and tools were provided by the monastery. As explained in Chapter 34 of the Rule, goods were to be distributed according to need, thus avoiding favoritism and accounting for weaknesses. As St. Benedict noted, “Whoever needs less should thank God and not be distressed, but whoever needs more should feel humble because of his weakness, not self-important because of the kindness shown him. In this way all the members shall be at peace.”

What enabled St. Benedict to expand his imagination to live in a new way? It was his study of scripture, of course. Jesus shared the good news of God’s kingdom with whoever would listen, be it Pharisees or tax collectors, and he healed the daughter of a Roman soldier as well as lepers. All those who seek to love God with all their mind, heart, and soul and love their neighbor as themselves are welcome at God’s table.

We desperately need to expand our own imagination about how to live together in peace during these times of bitter divisions between races, religions, and social classes. St. Benedict showed us that with the Gospel for our guide, we can set aside the worn-out ways of exclusion and hierarchy to build a community of inclusion and care for one another. To begin is as simple as offering sincere hospitality to everyone we meet, today and in all our tomorrows.

Choosing the High Road

At the 2016 Democratic National Convention, Michele Obama famously said, “When they go low, we go high.”

Many of the purported leaders in our country have gone “low” in recent years because of their greed, hubris, and disdain for immigrants, people of color, and those who are poor. A great many persons have suffered as a result of their actions. When the deeds of those who have acted shamefully catch up with them, it is tempting for us to gloat and sit in judgment: “They got what they deserved.”

It is always right to oppose the actions of those who harm other people and the earth itself and take away their power to inflict more damage. It is never right for us to exhibit the same disdain for them that they show to others. Rejoicing in the downfall of another demeans us and interferes with the possibility of healing for ourselves and the other person.

In the October 2020 issue of Give Us This Day, Fr. James Martin spoke about advice he received when he had a longstanding conflict with a housemate: “Pray to see him as God sees him.” In the parable of the Prodigal Son, the older brother’s outrage at his younger brother’s behavior prevented him from seeing his brother’s humanity and ate away at his own capacity for forgiveness and his sense of peace. When we are able to see people who have sinned as God sees them, we remember that they, like us, are always met with love and mercy. That does not mean they do not have to experience consequences for egregious behavior. It does mean that one of those consequences is not hatred, which is as corrosive to us as it is to them.

Norman Cousins said, “Life is an adventure in forgiveness.” Fortunately, we can count on having good companions on the high road who can help us over the rough patches of resentment and judgment that we encounter along the way.