Considering How We Hear
Ever attempt to do three things at once only to find that you miss the most important thing entirely? I’m talking about streaming a show while trying to answer an engrossing email and, then, your daughter enters the room wondering if you could help her with calculus. Now, granted, no one really wants to do calculus ever again but I’ve always said I’d help, so without looking up, I mumble, “uh huh,” as I finish typing. In the meantime, my daughter is already upstairs back in her room. What did she say? I rack my brain, but nothing. Sheepishly, I call up to her to find out what she asked. “Never mind,” she answers back, “I figured it out.” I missed the moment but I quietly congratulated myself for not having to open a calculus book.
How do I hear?
My relationship with my daughter recovered quickly from that mishap, but I realized that I sometimes neglect to listen well to more indispensable things. For example, how do I hear (or mishear) God’s word in Scripture, at Mass, through song and prayer, in the buzz of creation, in my husband’s voice or a sister’s advice? Here, through a mystic’s words and a popular parable, I will explore distraction and our human tendency to filter or sideline the important things, namely, God.
Does distraction muffle the realities I don’t wish to hear? Do I use different filters, much like the lens of a camera, when receiving what could contain truth? The answer to those questions is often: yes. I can be distracted by any number of things, including my phone, social media, a worry (or two), as well as my lack of interest or concern. And, furthermore, my filters change. Instead of hearing something for what it is, I read into it and distort or manipulate the message in order to stay undisturbed.
There were times at the end of the day, when I was a principal of a small Catholic grade school, that my brain could not fit one more thing. As my kids would say, my brain was full. Someone would stop me in the school hallway to ask a question or my husband would talk to me at home, only to be met with a glazed expression. I simply could not process what I was hearing. My mind was consumed with what Mechthild of Magdeburg, a 13th-century Beguine mystic, said would block the grace and flow of God’s presence. She wrote, “The great flood of divine love never ceases. Instead, it flows on and on without stopping. It flows on and on effortlessly and sweetly and without failing until, finally, our tiny vessel becomes full and spills over. Yes, we will be filled to overflowing with love if we don’t block it with our own sheer self-will. If we don’t stop grace with our stubbornness, our small vessel will always overflow with God’s kindness.” How I longed to “overflow” with love. Yet, in spite of myself, I stopped this flow. Once I had it in my mind that things should go a certain way at school, it was difficult for me to allow a change of direction. I didn’t always know how to handle a sudden turn in events and so I clung to control. This did not bode well when dealing with a disrespectful student or angry parent. Then at home, much to my husband’s frustration, I could sometimes only respond with, “Sorry, what did you say?”
I can be so busy, so preoccupied, as with endless daily tasks and decisions, that I can easily pass right by a “divine love” that “never ceases.” And, so, I can keep God out. It is a dispiriting thought to consider that my human will can close a door on God’s presence.
I wonder how often I do this: block or stop the flow of God’s word and goodness because I can't seem to be able to help myself. Too uncomfortable! Too shocking, even, for me to accept the truth of a thing. The Gospel of Luke (8:18) states, “Then pay attention to how you listen; for to those who have, more will be given; and from those who do not have, even what they seem to have will be taken away.” It matters how we listen, how we hear.
Those Hard of Hearing Have a Lesson to Teach
My Sister-in-Law, Diane Armento Feliz (aka the Blog Editing Queen!)
When considering how I hear, I think of my sister-in-law, Diane. Since birth, Diane has been hard of hearing. She had always worn hearing aids until she lost all of her hearing at the age of 50. After deciding to try cochlear implants, her world changed. She started to hear sounds, such as a dog barking in the distance, that she had never heard before. She had to figure out what these sounds meant, like the crunching of leaves or the buzz of an insect. It took some time for her brain to adjust so that she could make connections with the new sounds and their origins.
I notice today, as I watch Diane interact with the people around her, how focused and attentive she is when holding a conversation. Able to read lips adeptly, Diane can have conversations with her son across the room. Her whole body, face and eyes intently observe the movements, facial expressions and voice of the person with whom she converses. Not easily distracted, Diane gives her complete attention. She admitted that this amount of engagement sometimes exhausts her. Yet, there is an ease with which she listens well to people, one at a time. To be this alert and open takes great effort and self-reflection.
Considering my own introspection, I have a feeling that I pay more attention to others’ faults and less attention to my own state of mind and heart upon hearing God’s word. Thomas Aquinas was known to say, “Whatever is received is received according to the nature of the recipient.” If I have done nothing to free myself of distractions (like setting my phone to silent mode face down), or if I don’t have a practice of resting my mind (like contemplative prayer or meditation or simply closing my eyes), then my “nature” will not hear truth well. If I am worried and anxious about a particular thing, and I can’t seem to let it go, then I will be unable to hear God clearly.
As I mentioned, many evenings I would return home from school mulling over my responses, decisions, and attempts at maintaining a school community, only to hit a wall I could not get past. It was no exaggeration to say there was little room for God’s presence, let alone my husband and children. “For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of hearing...so that they might not...listen with their ears, and understand with their heart and turn - and I would heal them” (Mk 13:15). There are no do-overs and, yet, there is hope.
Parable of the Sower
I find hope in the Parable of the Sower, which is found in the Synoptic Gospels** (Mt 13:1-9; Mk 4:1-20; Lk 8:4-15). In this parable, a man sows seed indiscriminately onto four types of soil and the path with varying results. Is the sower paying attention to where the seed goes? Is he, in fact, wasting it? Biblical scholars point out that sowers in first century Palestine often generously spread the seed everywhere, then plowed it, ensuring that the seed would yield, at least partially, a fruitful harvest. And yet, seed falls onto the path, onto rocks, and in dry soil while the seed that falls on the rich soil grows to provide a bounty of food.
If we imagine that Jesus sowed this seed (His word), and we are this ground, however tilled or rocky or arid, we must ask ourselves: Am I free of distraction and able to hear with a heart fully trusting in God’s truth? Or am I standing on uneven, rocky terrain, unable to take it in and allow it to change me? Unable to face the messiness of God’s indiscriminate, unfiltered love, I sometimes choke on my own ego, unwilling to hear how God is trying to speak to me, actually blocking God’s voice. Am I open to conversion of heart, of mind and soul? Or am I distracted by someone’s opinion, for example on Facebook or a podcast or TV correspondent who communicates with confidence but really lacks credibility?
While growth fails to occur with the 3 types of non-arable ground mentioned in this parable, there is one extraordinary harvest for the seed that lands in rich soil. According to the biblical resource, Sacra Pagina, this parable is an “assurance to the disciples that despite failure and opposition what God has begun in the ministry of Jesus will have ultimate success.” (Mark, p 144) “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!”
I think Mechthild of Madgeburg was onto something.
Do I block or prevent the free flow of God’s Word, God’s love, God’s grace by not receiving it wholly, fully, without reservation? Considering, once again, my time as principal, I often stopped listening when I tried to control a situation and its outcomes. If I was overwhelmed by a personal interaction that brought on humiliation, I couldn’t listen well. I blocked, as Mechthild of Madgeburg said, the flow of God’s love and mercy. Recovering from that required me to step back and allow God to heal my stubbornness and open my ears to truth. I wonder how often I’m thrown off track because I’m not still enough to listen to God’s Spirit within me. This may be the crux of the matter. Is it the quiet, still voice of God that I sometimes block?
May we not miss these moments of encounter. And may we be open, in the silent, unfiltered, undistracted spaces of our hearts to hear the Spirit of God.
“Mom, can you help? Mom?” Rats. I missed it.
Call to Action: In the comments below, be sure to share your own wisdom about the importance of listening well. How can this help us in our relationships? In prayer?
Blog Notes:
*Beguines were Christian lay religious orders that were active in Western Europe in the 13th–16th centuries. Their members lived in semi-monastic communities but did not take formal religious vows; although they promised not to marry "as long as they lived as Beguines," to quote one of the early Rules, they were free to leave at any time. Beguines were part of a larger spiritual revival movement of the 13th century that stressed imitation of Jesus' life through voluntary poverty, care of the poor and sick, and religious devotion.
**Synoptic derives from the Greek, meaning “together.” Many gospel stories can be found in these three gospels and compared side by side, giving a broad view of the life and teachings of Jesus.
Song for contemplation: “Sacred Silence,” written by Tom Booth & Jenny Pixler
