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| Samuel - Pietro Annigoni- Italian. 1910-1998 |
I am not a
good listener and do confess it freely, although not happily. As a culture, many of us seem to be
struggling with listening well. We are too
impatient when someone seems to be droning on and not getting to the
point. Too prone to interruption or
planning what we will say in response. Too quick to offer a solution to
what we see as the problem
needing to be solved. Too ready to chime in with our own experience when it resonates
with what is being said. Kyrie,
eleison! Who will deliver us from this failure to listen? How many opportunities have we missed to
truly hear another and to form, deepen or mend relationship with them? How many
times have we missed God speaking to us through that same other or even in the
quiet of the night?
The story of God
speaking to the boy Samuel in the quiet of the night was, perhaps, one of the
first bible stories that registered with me as a night-owl, God-curious child.
(1 Sam.3) I was encouraged that God might actually speak at night in an audible
voice and wondered if sleeping in the church by the altar might increase the
likelihood of the same for me. My heart
warmed to Samuel in his confusion. I
felt sorry for Eli who was blind and kept getting awakened from an old man’s
restless sleep. Later, when reading the
story with a more adult awareness, it was apparent that Eli had stopped
listening to God. But, in the critical
moment, when God’s call came to Samuel, Eli knew just what was needful – that
is, to listen, to hear, to understand, and to obey – all meanings of the word shamea - a form of which was used by Eli in his instructions to Samuel - "Your servant is listening." This word is closely related to shema
as in the great commandment to Israel known as The Shema - Hear, O Israel! (Deut.
4:6-9). This same command to Israel was
quoted and enlarged by Jesus in his disputations with the scribes at the Temple
which we read about in Mark 12:28-31.
When the boy
Samuel kept hearing his name called in the night, his mentor, Eli, counseled him,
“ ‘Say, speak LORD, for your servant is listening.’ ” Samuel listened to Eli and, following his
instructions, heard the LORD call his name once again. Then, as you will recall, the LORD commenced
to give Samuel some fairly hair-raising instructions which Samuel, having
listened, faithfully relayed to Eli. It
is noted of Samuel near the end of the chapter, that “Samuel grew, and the LORD
was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground.” What wonderful fruit for Samuel came from
listening carefully and faithfully.
Samuel was enabled to live with an awareness of God’s presence with him,
and the people trusted Samuel’s words. What
more could any of us want?
When St.
Benedict set pen to paper (or stylus to parchment) in the sixth century and composed
his simple rule for beginner monks, the very first word he wrote was Obsculta
which means Listen. Benedict invited
them and us to “listen with the ear of the heart.” That is, to listen from the center of our
being and as an act of love. Paul Tillich,
speaking from the twentieth century, touches on the same thing when he says,
“the first duty of love is to listen.” [1] Might we suggest, then, that listening and
loving the other are deeply connected?
When someone
has listened deeply and faithfully to us, our trust in them grows as we come to
know that they are truly present to and with us. In the bond of trust, the foundation of love
is laid for we cannot love what we do not trust. We can be attached to that which we do not
trust but attachment is no guarantee of genuine, life-giving love. Listening not only builds the foundation of
love, it makes relationship possible – not only between people but also between
ourselves and God.
How, then, can
we learn anew to listen? For a newborn, and, even while still in the womb,
learning to distinguish between voices – and especially the voices of the
beloved- is one of our very first lessons.
For Samuel, the LORD’s voice spoke into the quiet of night. For Elijah, God spoke, not in wind,
earthquake or fire, but in a still, small voice (1 Kings 19:11-13). Silence is our most important teacher in
learning to listen and to distinguish between the outer and inner voices.
Recently, we had a hurricane in our area with
accompanying loss of electricity. I
marveled at how quiet our house and our neighborhood became in an instant. Many
of us can tune away outward noise but we are less able to deal with the inner
racket to which we have become almost unthinkingly accustomed. Once, when I
complained about inner noise, a spiritual friend suggested that I try to learn
to listen for the silence beyond the noise.
It’s there, and we can teach ourselves to listen for it. It helps, too, to be aware of the content of our
inner voices. For me, it’s usually worry
about various things, remembering to-do’s, replaying conversations I wish had
gone better, problem solving, and remembered voices of parents or other long-gone
folks (for good or ill). Journaling
about these as well as offering them to God can help us make peace with
them. And, it is that- the sense of
being at peace with oneself, one’s life, and with God - which can help us
listen more carefully not only to others but also for God. This is, I believe, because having some
measure of peace makes it possible to create a space into which another can
speak and be heard.
God spoke into
the spaciousness and quiet darkness of a holy place, and Samuel heard. May we ask God to help create that space in
us so that, like Samuel, we too may say, “Speak, LORD, your servant is
listening,” and we may hear rightly.
The Rev. Dr. Jennie Clarkson
Olbrych (ret.), Charleston, South Carolina. 10.1.19
This first appeared in a slightly different form in The Anglican Digest-Autumn, 2019
