“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 occur 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 dare to confront my true self, including all my limitations, and to embrace others as they are, acknowledging their limitations.
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.
