Listening

I have lately discovered hypnosis tapes. The topics vary (weight loss, saving money) but my current favorite is called Be a Great Listener. A voice with a thick Scottish brogue (they’re made in the U.K., I found them on the Internet) says a few words about the benefit of having great listening skills. When you really listen to someone, you show them that they are important enough to really listen to them properly. And interesting enough for you to remember them, says the voice. Think how you feel when you’re talking to someone but they’re not really listening; they look bored or their eyes are wandering. So what an amazing ability it is to be able to completely get outside of yourself and make someone feel special and worthwhile. (I’m paraphrasing a little.)

The tapes all get back to one main theme, take yourself out of the picture, relax, engage fully in the world and life you have. And to me, that’s what Patricia’s sermon was all about this morning. We often miss the holy because all we can see is the ordinary. Meaning, God is always there but not always felt in a powerful way because we’re simply not stopping to listen, to see, to notice. God’s presence doesn’t reside in exotic faraway places. We miss God doing the new thing because we’re so focused on that God did in the past.

The Gospel reading: Mark 6:1-13 where Jesus goes to preach in his hometown and he says, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” There is no better place to look for God, I’m guessing, than in this very present moment in this very present place. You are “with” whoever is around you.

I may seem like a better listener than I am and that’s because I actually listened to the sermon twice this morning because I was on vestry duty. I listened at the early service but my mind was not completely awake, so I sat in again on the 10 o’clock service for the sermon and to hear the choir, before retreating to the quiet of the kitchen. (I figured taking the Eucharist twice in one morning might be a little excessive.)

In the kitchen, I surveyed Vicki Ledet’s handiwork for coffee time. There was a giant chocolate chip cookie with a blue dolphin on it in honor of Meg’s 16th birthday tomorrow. Fresh strawberries individually washed, dried and arranged on trays covered with Saran wrap. Red velvet cake. Pineapple. I don’t what else.

I poured some coffee and thought how rich this rather ordinary morning had already been.

So many of us were headed out for vacation (including Patricia, whose holiday starts end of day Thursday), which always adds a festive mood. But it was more than that. Small things, like Joseph Henry dropping his hymnal and telling me he had the “drops” today. John and Pat filling in at the last moment to presentthe elements. (I’m the worst VOD in St. Dunstan’s history—I almost always forget to remind people what they’re scheduled for.) Squeezing Betty’s hand in passing, smiling in fond recognition. Seeing an expectant young couple. And a toddler with soft dark curls and a sweet smile to match. Maybe those were some of the things She means for us to see.