“Listen”  is the first word in the Rule of St. Benedict.  “Listen, my children…Listen with an ear to your heart.”

Listen.

April 16, 2012:  I arrived at the Indianapolis airport—my computer in one hand and a backpack on my back. I followed the signs to baggage claim and got on the down escalator.

Once you’re on an escalator, turning back, or staying put is really not an option.  As I clutched the railing and continued the slow descent, I saw a gray haired woman in a blue jumper holding a sign that said, “Women Touched by Grace.” We made eye contact.  I looked away. What in God’s name had I gotten myself into? There was no turning back.  I was almost too sick to speak. All I could do was listen.

What was I doing at a Catholic women’s monastery? What was I seeking?

I am a social justice Christian who has worked to feed the hungry, staffed the homeless shelter, sat with violent teens, and stayed up through the night with folks in a crazy manic state.  What in God’s name drew me to a program with Catholic Sisters based on spiritual renewal?

On the application, I wrote:

“The teaching of spiritual practices was not done in churches or in seminary. I crave silence and a deeper sense of the divine.  I seek a safe community to help me to make the space to calm my soul and open my heart. I yearn for the support and training to dare to let the Spirit touch me, mold me, and inspire me in deeper ways. I hope that Women Touched by Grace will give me the guidance and nurture to venture into what are for me uncharted and somewhat frightening waters of intentional spiritual formation. I know I need this if my ministry is to endue and grow.”

“My heart feels open and I want to be exposed to a variety of ways of practicing spirituality so that I can be more intentionally rooted in the presence of the divine and able to share that with others.”

Listen.

Listen to the heart.

Listen.

When I arrived at the Benedict Inn at Our Lady of Grace Monastery, I could hardly talk due to a cold and asthma.  So I listened and watched and learned and prayed.  I felt I had nothing to give.  I didn’t have the energy to try to impress so I just listened.

Listen without judgment.

Listen without trying to fix or resolve.

Listen with curiosity.

Listen without thinking of what to say next.

Then when I spoke, my words seemed to come from a place of deep attention, even wisdom.

When Sister Luke and Sister Betty first proposed this program, they were not going to invite the Protestant clergy to pray with the Sisters.  They didn’t want to be accused of trying to convert.  They needed us to say, “you have what we need to reclaim.  We want to worship with you.”  The sisters had to listen to us to recognize the gifts that they hold. They didn’t realize how much others yearn for what the Sisters know deep in their hearts and bones. Through our eyes, they see themselves and their gifts more clearly. Listen.

The way of worship at Our Lady of Grace is repetitive and initially, really boring. It is slow, painfully slow.  Lots of quiet and pauses.  They say Mary’s Magnificat over and over again day after day; there were different transitions and different tunes but I did hear it the first time?

Mary’s song is a song of justice. Why not sing it daily?  Let’s live it daily.

The prayer book holds pages of psalms complete with nasty smiting language.  Listen, the psalms are the prayers our people have prayed for centuries. Even when individually we don’t feel that way, someone else does.

And now I crave scripture in deeper ways.  Having listened, I have come to rest in the liturgy which no longer seems so dull—even when the words may be difficult.

How often do I hear without really listening?

Listen.

Listen. And in listening hearts open.

We’ve been taught to do and to fix.

We in the liberal protestant church have been taught to think and reason.  Seminary graduates are taught to argue right theology.  To be ordained, we have to articulate a coherent and rational sounding theology.  We use words.

I wonder if the biggest gift we can give is to listen—to strangers, to friends, to one another, to God.

What happens when we create a listening environment where we hear one another’s stories and in so doing glimpse the soul of another?

In listening, really listening, hearts open.  Listening to clergy women’s accounts of the joys and heartaches of ministry in their particular contexts, the woundedness we each bring to our lives and work, was acknowledged and eased.  When we listen hard, we know that we each walk in the wilderness.

Listen for God.

Listen for what is already sealed in our hearts.

I shared with Sister Rachel, my assigned spiritual director. She didn’t judge. She didn’t try to convert me.  As she listened and I heard myself speak, I began to find God in my words—not her words. And (don’t tell Sister Rachel) but her words (they are good) but they are not my words. I don’t know how to pray to Mary or Joseph or the saints. Most importantly, Sister Rachel listened to me, and I heard God’s voice within me.

Listen for God.

Listen for the voice within.

Today we celebrate the first Sunday of Lent.  Jesus was tempted by the devil. The devil offered Jesus food, safety, and wealth. And Jesus turned away.  How often do we confuse Satan with God?  If we don’t listen hard, it is easy to miss God’s presence or mistake it for something that is not God.

Listen.

Listening is a powerful God given tool with the power to change everything.  Listening is the foundation our ministry as people of God.

I encountered an acquaintance that just had a family member commit suicide.   I steeled myself and walked across the room to where she was sitting.  “I’m sorry about your niece,” I said. There was the awkward silence. The smile on her face when she greeted me turned to an expression of deep pain. I said something stupid and waited. The waiting was hard. Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut. It looked like I was the one to cause anguish until she began to talk of love and grief, and how to go on.  I listened.  There was absolutely nothing to say. It was too awful.  I believe in the power of listening.

When Jesus walked in the wilderness, he listened.  He didn’t take the easy path to wealth, safety, and food.  He waited and prayed and listened.

The tempter comes ready to convince us that we need answers, special training, and that we will be rewarded with food, safety, and wealth.

Listen.

Listening is often the most important and sacred act we can do.