LISTENING TO HEAR

 Sermon preached by the Rt. Rev. Alan M. Gates, Bridge Pastor

My grandmother had what we always called “selective hearing loss.”  You could tell her loudly a dozen times that you were not going to make it for Sunday dinner, but always she was still expecting you.  On the other hand, your stomach could growl softly and she was right there suggesting a drive to Dunkin Donuts - her favorite snacking spot!  By some miracle of physiology, when you said something she wanted to hear, her hearing was acute; when you said something she didn’t want to hear, she was deaf as the proverbial post.

          Our children often display a similar affliction.  “Get your thank-you notes written,” we say.  “Put down the phone and come to supper,” we say.  And is anyone listening?  Not so much!

          But let’s be honest.  We all sometimes fail to hear.  I once presented my beloved spouse with a Peace Lily for Mother’s Day.  She seemed strangely unmoved.  Eventually she reminded me that she hates peace lilies – had never bought one, never asked for one, never kept one that had been given to her.  After many years of marriage, she thought I might have noticed.

          We talk but we do not listen.  We listen but we do not hear.  Sometimes we’re distracted.  Other times we tune it out.  At times that is quite literal:  in the digital age, we control our news sources.  What we don’t like, we don’t have to hear. 

          The Gospel reading today speaks of the importance of truly listening.  The familiar Parable of the Sower [Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23] describes those who hear or fail to hear God’s message.  Like seeds falling on receptive or non-receptive soil, says Jesus, God’s Word is heard only by ears which are open and actively receptive to hearing it.  It is not heard by those too easily distracted; it is not heard by those who allow other priorities to “choke it out.” 

          How often I say, “I so wish I knew what God wants in this situation!”  Yet how much time do I really spend listening?  Do I expect to hear God in the reading of Scripture, or do I view the Bible as too outdated to pertain?  Do I wait and listen for genuine answers to my prayers, or do I act as though the only purpose for prayer is that God should listen to me?  Today’s parable invites us to ask: How and when am I in receptive mode?  How permeable is my soil?

          In our First Lesson today we had the tale of two brothers, the skillful outdoorsman Esau, and his home-body twin Jacob.  You know the story – how Esau returns from the fields, fatigued and famished.  How Jacob is cooking up a nice fragrant stew; how he waves the ladle around under Esau’s nose; pours a tall pint of Guinness; turns up the air conditioning in the tent; and says, “C’mon in Esau.  All of this deliciousness is yours, for the small and insignificant price of your birthright.”  “Oh, that old thing!” says Esau.  And the deed is done.

          Now, much is made of Jacob’s scheming chicanery.  True enough.  But I suggest that Esau was not an entirely innocent victim in the boeuf bourguignon birthright swindle.  Honestly, all Esau had to do was listen – actually to listen to what was being demanded of him.  This was not fine print buried in pages of legalese.  Jacob told Esau exactly what he wanted: “Sell me your birthright.”  But Esau wasn’t truly listening.

          As with the broadcast seed of God’s message in Jesus’ parable, as with Esau turning the deaf ear, as with a husband presenting an unwanted gift: listening makes the difference.  The more I experience of life and relationships, of crucial moments and life-changing incidents; and the more I observe how people and communities do or do not flourish – in all these contexts, I am convinced that our lives thrive or falter based deeply upon this thing about which Jesus speaks: listening and understanding.

          If we do not really listen to our children, how can we begin to help them with whatever they are struggling with; how can they believe we even care?

          If we do not really listen to our spouse or partner, how can we hope to continue walking the same path with them?

          If we do not really listen to our friends, how can we hear what joys or sorrows are on their hearts; how can we respond in love to what we do not know?

          If we do not listen even to our enemies, nor they to us, how can we ever hope to breach that gulf? How can we find the common ground upon which to stand, to talk, to see one another as global neighbor?

          If we do not listen to reports about the changes afoot in our world, how will we evaluate them and seek our own place in the forward progress of humankind which is embedded in our eternal prayer, “thy Kingdom come?”

In our nation these days we have arrived at an inflection point in our commitment to listen, and it’s not good.  Before I went to seminary I served as a Russian linguist and Soviet intelligence analyst during the late Cold War.  I never thought I would live to see in this country the kind of overt information control we have begun to see: book banning in libraries and schools; scientific information deemed too political to be shared; a teacher’s job at risk for sharing honest history; a television meteorologist receiving death threats for referencing climate change; a pediatrician telling parents she cannot even discuss their child’s medical options.  Willful non-listening and efforts to control what others can hear – these are now shockingly common.

          In our world of relationships and caring; in our wider world of commonwealth and justice; here is the task: To listen.  To listen well.  To listen intentionally. To listen for information, to listen for meaning, to listen for revelation.  To be as open as we can be, even to the unexpected and challenging.  To be not just physically but also emotionally present for those we would love better.  This is the only hope for genuine relationship – with God and with one another.

It begins with us.  And it might not be easy.  Perhaps no one ever listened to us in that way.  Perhaps we are afraid of what we might hear.  Perhaps we are by nature a bit impatient, or anxious, or distractable.   Well then, if practice and discipline are needed for us fully to listen, then practice and discipline are precisely what’s demanded.  Perhaps we should ask God to help us grow in this way.

And guess what!  Here is one place right at hand to practice that gift of listening.  Your Parish Profile Committee is holding several discussion groups – one later today, and others on upcoming Sundays.  There’s a questionnaire available to provide structure for your thinking.  A transition period like this is a time for particular discernment.  It requires honest sharing, absolutely.  It also requires deep listening – listening to each other; listening to your community, and the needs to which Christ bids us respond; and listening for the Holy Spirit – guiding, nudging, encouraging, and maybe surprising us.  I hope you’ll go to one of these sessions, with the intention of sharing and listening.  To paraphrase your parish motto: “If you listen, you will grow!”

          Dear friends:  In your church and in your homes; in your  community and in your prayers:  Listen!  And if we do, according to Jesus’ parable, we  will be rewarded, 30-fold, 60-fold, a hundred-fold.  Jesus says, “Let anyone with ears listen!”