HELLO IN THERE

On this Thanksgiving week, we gather to give thanks and to celebrate with family and friends. But it is not like that for all. Some 30+ years ago, Bette Midler made popular the song, “Hello in There”, about loneliness – of the elderly, of the empty-nesters, of so many others. As Mother Theresa of Calcutta once observed, “The greatest poverty is in the U.S. It is the poverty of loneliness.” Perhaps, even God is lonely. One of Neil Diamond’s songs seems to capture this:

“I am,” I said…“I am,” I cried…But no one heard at all, not even the chair.

We all hunger…even God…for someone to hear our cry. What blocks us from truly listening to one another…to God? Perhaps, it is because though we seem to have so much in common, we are still really quite unique. We see and listen distinctively. I recently read, My Stroke of Insight, (by Jill Bolte Taylor, a brain scientist), which says that our human body has some 50 trillion cells, about one trillion just in our central nervous system. “We are virtually identical to one another at the diversity of our genes (99.99%). But our individual 0.01 percent [of all those trillions of cells] accounts for a significant difference in how we look, think, and behave.”

Some of us (like me) like sunshine and warm weather; others prefer cool days of clouds and rain. Our differences divide (and even polarize) us not only in politics, but even in our common quest for God. Some find God in beautifully-built churches; others in majestic, natural cathedrals of trees and mountains. Our tastes differ on the churches which draw us: Gothic temples with stained glass, mosaics, and lots of statues for some; simpler structures but vibrant with warm fellowship and active participation for others. We have a preference for the Latin Mass, or one in our native tongue (English, Spanish, Vietnamese, etc.). We’re charismatic or contemplative.

How each of us images and relates to God is also diverse. Some have a child-like trust and acceptance, abandoning themselves totally to a transcendent God and God’s providence, such as Joseph Girzone, author of Never Alone, and the Joshua series. “God I’m here at your disposal. Whatever you want to do with me, Lord, I’m ready. I don’t know what to ask you. I don’t even understand what is important for me. You know it beforehand anyway. Speak to me, Lord, my heart is open to you. I am ready to listen.” Others, perhaps, have an immanent image of God, a more mature and collaborative relationship, as expressed, for example, by Thomas Merton (in The Inner Experience – Notes on Contemplation):

“Christ was not to be present in His members merely as a memory, as a model, as a good example. Nor would He merely guide and control them from afar, through angels. It is true that the Divine Nature infinitely transcends all that is natural, but in Christ the gap between God and man has been bridged by the Incarnation, and in us the gap is bridged by the invisible presence of the Holy Spirit. CHRIST IS REALLY PRESENT IN US, more present than if He were standing before us visible to our bodily eyes. For we have become ‘other Christs.’ By virtue of this hidden presence of the Spirit in our inmost self, we need only to deliver ourselves from preoccupation with our external, selfish, and illusory self in order to find God within us.”

We are truly unique. How, then, can we learn to listen to God and to one another? Perhaps, it begins by listening to ourselves: discovering who we are, the hunger within – for fellowship and intimacy, peace and fulfillment, connecting again with our passions and dreams. It is said that we cannot love another if we do not love ourselves. Can we listen to another if we do not listen to ourselves? How well do we know ourselves?

It is not easy to listen whether to another or to ourselves. We are not trained for it. But, as we learn to be more attentive to the person we are: our way of seeing and being, our likes and dislikes, our gifts and weaknesses, then, perhaps, we have the confidence to be truly open (not just superficially) to another.

One thing I learned while helping out at The Port (short for Portiuncula – “the little portion”, a Franciscan soup kitchen in South Chicago) is that even more than the hunger for food is the hunger for someone to listen to us. Perhaps, that is the greatest service we can provide. Listening does not mean that we must compromise ourselves – who we are. But it does require that we commit ourselves – our time and presence. And in this commitment, we discover more about who we are. And more, we shape who we want to be.

Whether we go to God or to another (to listen to them or for them to listen to us), we must be open to letting go of old habits…to “empty ourselves”. There is a story about a Japanese warlord who travels to a monastery in the mountains. Upon arrival, an old monk welcomes him, and asks, “What may I do for you?” The Shogun declares, “I am the most powerful man in the land. Still, I lack wisdom. I have heard of your renown for wisdom. I come to learn your secret.” The aged monk nods and says, “All in good time. But first let us sit and have tea.” The monk prepared the tea and begins to pour it in the Shogun’s cup. The cup is filled and overflowing. Still the monk continues to pour tea into the cup. The Shogun yells, “What are you doing? Can you not see that the cup is already full?” To which the monk replies, “And so are you full of yourself. I cannot do anything to help you unless you first empty yourself.”

If it is God to whom we go, to be aware of/attentive to the Holy Presence, I often recommend God’s own prayer from Psalm 46, “Be still and know that I Am”. Set a time and place (perhaps even write it in your calendar, much as we would with a visit to the doctor or an important date). Prepare the place to make it reflective of this Holy Encounter (perhaps with a candle, a Bible, a statue). Seek a time when you won’t be interrupted. Enter this sacred moment and space by removing your shoes. Say the prayer, repeating it like a mantra, and then wait in silence.

This may be more difficult at first than we might think. Therefore, it may be best to simply begin by inviting God to join us in our favorite pastime: gardening, knitting, listening to music, reading, jogging, watching TV, etc. Do this for a few weeks. The more we have a sense that God is with us, the easier it will be to meet God on God’s terms. When we begin that encounter, maybe instead of (or in addition to) God’s prayer, we could simply say, “Hello in there.”