Sunday, October 30, 2011

Hearing and Listening

Cats have very acute hearing. Along with his nose, Baxter makes his way through life with his ears. Familiar sounds bring familiar behaviors — the rattle of the food container, the sound of the garage door, the alarm clock going off. Strange sounds produce a different reaction. He is on high alert. His ears are up; he is sitting or standing at attention; nothing distracts him from the code red monitoring he assumes when a strange sound sets him off. Baxter listens to the world around him well, and it sets up his response to it.

At the liturgy we are asked to listen to God’s Word. It comes to us through music, the proclamation of the Scriptures and prayers said for all to find a voice. But do we listen and respond? Unlike cats, we are not wired to be good listeners. We live in a visual culture where spectacular sights and “special effects” get our attention and wonder. There is often so much noise around us — cell phones ringing, videos blaring, traffic growling and honking, talk shows rattling — that we become accustomed to tuning it all out. We look at the many pictures created for us in this modern technological world, and we use them to enter our private, imaginary worlds inside ourselves.

God’s Word calls us into the public world that we share with all other people. It calls us to take account of the good things in that world and see how we can multiply their goodness by sharing it more broadly. It calls us to take seriously the evil in this world of ours and to work together to identify its source and the solutions to eliminate it. God’s Word calls us, but we must first listen. The Sunday Eucharist is our weekly training camp to learn how and to condition us to be alert to this message.

The first step is to pay attention. The opening prayer of the liturgy is meant to gather together our scattered thoughts and feelings from the week around the God who has walked with us those days, but often perhaps unnoticed or unheeded. Let go of the problems at work still unsolved, the worries about your teenage daughter’s boyfriend, the shortfall in the household budget or the schedule conflict between soccer practice and piano lessons, and listen. This opening prayer is known as the “Collect,” and it is collecting all those aspects of our lives that we bring to the Eucharist and focusing them in faith.

From this opening prayer, we move to the Liturgy of the Word, where the Scriptures, proclaimed through the millennia, now speak to us, personally and collectively at the same time. But we must hear this word, take it to heart, find the references for its message in our own lives, and look for what we can do about it. It all starts with listening seriously, carefully, and prayerfully. This means that we listen wanting to make a connection between what we hear and how we live. We focus on the moment when the Word is proclaimed, and not on moments before we came to church or those to follow after we leave. We are present to the Word of God to find in it God’s Word for us.

Baxter figures out what is going on by a keen sense of hearing. He identifies friend or foe, food or frightening threat by the sound associated with these things. The sound of God’s Word can help us do the same from the vision of our faith. So listen well and learn how to live faithfully.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Saying the Right Thing

Baxter loves to talk. He has different things to say depending upon what is going on. When he wants to eat, he has this annoying meow that harangues me until I respond with what he wants — food! After he has eaten, he has recently started making this billowing sound. I think it is his version of a roar, marking his conquest of prey for sustenance. Of course, in his case, the prey is kibble from a bag. Nevertheless, Baxter voices a lion’s heart, even though he has the diet and physique of a domestic short hair. If the truth be told, his roar is more like a heavy chirp than a ferocious blast. (We can only deliver what we have!) Baxter’s most distinctive sound comes right before he has a hair ball episode. This groan starts deep in his gut, and it slowly crescendos to a piercing plea for relief, just before the messy cough up occurs. Two seconds afterwards, he’s quiet and innocent looking, walking around the unsightly residue and ignoring it, as if to say, “Who did that?” He knows I’ll clean it up, so why bother himself.

Like Baxter, we have different things to say in different ways depending upon the situation and our disposition. Sometimes our talk is small. We chat with a neighbor or friend about what went on today — what happened at work, what the kids are up to, what secrets are around about people we know, our troubles and problems on a minor scale. Sometimes we say special things to ground our lives in our words: “I love you.”; “I am so sorry.”; “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” These words that make life matter because they strengthen our commitments and the meaning they bring to our lives. These words need to be said in the right way in the proper situation and often. They add to the reality of what they are expressing, and if they are not said, we soon lose a sense of love, forgiveness and gratitude in our lives.

Our talk at Eucharist will soon be changing somewhat. We are being asked to learn new responses to various parts of the Mass, and to hear some new wording from others at Mass. Why all this bother? Well, sometimes our language becomes rote and automatic. We say “yes” just to get someone off our back, but we don’t really mean it. We can do the same with our responses and prayers at Mass. They become so familiar that we don’t pay attention to their meaning and message any longer. We respond out of a thoughtless habit, rather than a heartfelt conviction. We say what we are supposed to say, rather than what we truly mean. So these upcoming changes in our God-talk at Mass are an opportunity for us to say what we mean and mean what we say. Let’s practice a moment.

“The Lord be with you.” “And with your spirit.” This is a special greeting. It is not just a casual “Hi” as we pass on the street. It’s an acknowledgement of who we are before God as His children and heirs to God’s Kingdom. With all else that we are — parent, employee, friend, spouse, citizen, fan, etc. — we are spiritual persons, ones marked to live by the Spirit of Christ in all our other roles. We are in this world of family, finances, friends, sports, work, entertainment and politics, but not of this world. We live in this world as disciples of Christ and citizens of God’s Kingdom, and we can do so because we are more than flesh and blood, mind and emotions, and we are more than friends, family or associates. At Mass we recognize that we are also spiritual persons united as the Body of Christ for the sake of our mission to build God’s Kingdom in the world. We remind each other of this deeper part of ourselves, and we encourage each other to live from this level when we say “And with your spirit.”

I know when Baxter is mad about something I did or didn’t do, because he turns his back on me and sits in place saying nothing. If we ignore the spirit in each other and never raise a voice to acknowledge it, we may forget to use it in the way we relate to each other, work together, and effect the world. Come on, Baxter, say something nice. Come on, folks, say something of God to each other. “And with your spirit.”

Sunday, October 16, 2011

A Quiet Presence

Sometimes I give Baxter a bad rap. To emphasize his antics, I may appear to say that he is trouble all the time. In fact, he is far from it. Baxter does have his crazy moments and quirks of habit like all of us. But most of the time, he is just there, lying on the rug or the blanket on my bed, keeping me company. He's a quiet presence -- no talking, no movement, just there -- wanting to be where I am but without any need to stir the scene or be the focus of attention. When he isn't in the room with me, I have a flash of fright. Did he get out? Is something wrong? But usually it’s only that he is hiding for a while under the bed or table, just to keep me guessing.

That steady, quiet presence is like God's way of being with us most of the time. He doesn't make a big scene. He is quiet and unassuming, but He wants to be where we are. God is the "Other" in our midst. His mystery isn't easily described. In fact, it is more often noticed in its absence than when it is regularly present. God doesn't need a lot of fanfare to be a part of our lives, but He doesn't like to be taken for granted. Maybe that's why He sometimes seems hard to find or distant. It's a way to keep us on our toes to His life with us.

With all the hustle and bustle of our lives, is it any wonder that we forget, ignore, or miss this quiet, loving presence that lives with us? He doesn't make a fuss to get our attention as we so often do with each other. He doesn't stand out from the crowd but is content to share with the crowd the joys and sorrows, hopes and fears of us all. God doesn’t shout, "I'm number one!" He's content to share our victories and console us in defeat. He doesn't need to be the center of attention all the time, just the center of our lives from their beginning to their end.

Yes, we are born with the divine mystery; we live each day of our lives with it; hopefully, we die in its arms. And we don't have to do much to care for it, just acknowledge the presence, be grateful for its love and care, and seek it out when we need its guidance, forgiveness or healing. In other words, we need to worship. A little food, water and clean litter are all it takes to keep Baxter around, and what a joy it is to have him there. A little faith, regular worship and a clean heart are all it takes to keep God in our lives. The joy that can bring will surprise you.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Jumping

Baxter likes to jump. Cats do that, you know. He jumps on beds, chairs, and the rim of the bathtub when he wants to get a drink from the spigot. I try to limit where Baxter leaps. Counter tops, tables and dressers are off limits. Of course, there is no stopping him from a jump to the window sill on a bright, sunny day when the birds are outside chirping. Sometimes he does try to break my rules. When a morsel is left on the table or a can of tuna stands opened on the counter top, the whiff of sheer culinary delight creates a craving that no rule can control. Then he's up in an instant, and I have to spastically intervene in a second to preserve the few feline-human boundaries I try to uphold.

Cats are built to jump. The spring in their back legs and the flexibility in their spine makes a four foot, vertical move look effortless. Their balance creates a ballet out of a simple change of position. They seem to defy gravity. Their moves to a higher level are poetry in motion. God made them to dance through the air.

God gave us a similar gift. While a few of us with the right training can jump far and/or high on an athletic field, we all are meant to reach for a higher level in life. We are not meant to be earth-bound when it comes to our vision and how we practice it in life. The Kingdom of God is always ahead of us and beyond our current level of goodness and justice. It keeps calling us higher to consider possibilities previously untried, disciplines still unmastered, and a generosity we thought too much for us. The Holy Spirit stretches our spirits to make them more limber and strong. At first, the new thought or practice may seem awkward and even painful. We might resist the effort. But remember, "use it or lose it" applies to more than our physical conditioning. It is the only way to grow in holiness and grace as Jesus did.

God doesn't stand still. God keeps unfolding a future for us. He calls us out of our frightened, selfish and controlling egos to a vision that passes through cooperation to divine communion. He connects us in an ecology of the Holy Spirit that our rugged individualism resists. He removes the blinders we wear to avoid seeing His image in the least, from the unborn and the poor, to the prisoner and the frail elderly. God isn't satisfied with our present lives in this world. He wants more for us than the security and satisfactions we try to create for ourselves. He wants to love us into a life of generosity and service that makes others say, "See how they love one another." He wants us to join in the dance of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and seem to fly by our faith.

So, don't just sit or stand there. Jump!

Sunday, October 2, 2011

The Shedding Season

This is shedding season. Every fall and spring I find tuffs of hair around the floor for a few weeks while Baxter grows a new fur coat for the winter or summer ahead. This time it's a thicker and heavier coat for the cold weather to come. Fall is a time to lose something to be better prepared for what lies ahead. Look at nature in general. The leaves are losing their green color. The trees will lose their leaves. The sap runs into the roots. Nature is preparing for the cold by releasing its hold on what has served its purpose well in the warm days of summer, but will soon be out of season as life moves on.

What do we need to shed as we face this new time of the year? We also wear coats to keep us warm and to add to our fashionable look. They are the roles we take on as part of our place in the world. Are they the right ones for the season of our lives? We might still want to be light and care-free like the days of our youth, but now we have responsibilities for others, and we cannot ignore them. On the other hand, we might be beyond the responsibilities of parenthood and wage earner, and we have to learn how to find joy in life with a different contribution to make to others' lives. We may no longer be the care-giver or provider, but we bring other gifts-- the wisdom of patience, the joy of caring for the young without the burden of disciplining them, the freedom to appreciate a quiet moment, a long walk or a good book or hobby. As life changes we shed some roles to take on others, and if we do so graciously, without resenting what we are losing, in the full circle of life's seasons, we come to see how God works.

Before the trees shed their leaves, they first change color. From green to gold, red, or orange and then brown, they reveal a hidden beauty before they die and fall to the ground. Shedding doesn't have to be ugly or sad. It can be peaceful and yet exhilarating. There is nothing like a brisk, bright fall day to inspire our admiration for God's hand in painting nature's beauty. Can we see that same hand in ourselves and others as the seasons pass? If we only stare at the clumps that we have lost with the shedding, we will never see the colors of our new coat for a new season.

Baxter's hair will get thicker after a few weeks of loss. He will groom himself, and I will help with a few vigorous brushings while he goes through this period. We both may have a hairball or two to deal with along the way. But finally, he will be ready for winter and look good in a fine, new coat. The same is possible for us as we move through the seasons of our lives. Don't fight the changes life brings to us all. Learn how to wear them stylishly but without conceit. They are part of the many looks God gives us, until we finally see our whole life dressed for the final season when we live with Him forever.