In this century and in any century,
Our deepest hope, our most tender prayer,
Is that we learn to listen.
May we listen to one another in openness and mercy.
May we listen to plants and animals in wonder and respect.
May we listen to our own hearts in love and forgiveness.
May we listen to God in quietness and awe.
And in this listening,
Which is boundless in its beauty,
May we find the wisdom to cooperate
With a healing spirit, a divine spirit,
Who beckons us into peace and community and creativity.
We do not ask for a perfect world.
But we do ask for a better world.
We ask for deep listening.
~Jay McDaniel
On Sunday we began our worship with this poem. It is one I come back to now and again and I am sure I have shared it in this space before. But like most good poems or prayers, it bears repeating.
Now that we have celebrated Easter, the scriptures for worship take us into the Book of Acts. These accounts of the early community which kept Jesus’ life and teachings alive is a perfect model for our church’s year long theme of Practicing Beloved Community. The stories told within this book depict all the highs and lows of what it means to be committed to being connected to other people in significant ways. There are examples of fabulous relationships and horribly broken ones. There are glimpses of people behaving in grace-filled ways and equally contemptuous ways. In other words, it paints an accurate picture of humans being humans.
As we began the unfolding of these scriptures, it seemed a good thing to start with listening. As I observe the world, it seems to me this act is one of our biggest challenges. In the culture in which we live, listening is often seen as a lesser attribute to action, to doing, to movement of any kind. Listening requires presence, presence to another, presence to oneself. In the fast paced, product oriented society in which most of us move, a listening presence is often seen as a fault rather than one of the greatest of gifts. Even in the church, sometimes especially in the church, we are woefully at a loss in the listening department.
The practice of being a deep listener is an art. Once a month I am blessed to sit in a room with one other person who listens to my life in a way no other does. My spiritual director hears with nonjudgmental ears and very few words in response all my ramblings about my walk on this faith path. She settles herself in a comfortable chair and listens, really listens, to the questions, the regrets, the obsessions and the joys of my heart. To walk into that room knowing that I will have the gift of presence of this one person for nearly sixty minutes is a true honor. It is something I pray for everyone.
This act of deep listening is one gift we can so easily offer another. It is, I believe, the first step in healing so much of what we think divides us. It is a step we can take for our children, our communities, for ourselves. In our listening we will not create a perfect world but it will be a better world.
May you find someone today to whom you can offer the gift of presence and deep listening. And may you find yourself telling your own story to someone who offers their undivided attention.
Blessed be.