Listen, Because God is Whispering
”We have moved from a time of medical crisis to a time of endurance. It is almost as if we are living like monks.”
So wrote a friend of mine who is involved with the Order of Malta. His words didn’t really alarm me, however, mainly because I don’t know of any members who have thrown in the towel and joined monasteries as a result of the pandemic. On the other hand, he does point out the conundrum that confronts groups whose mission is to serve but cannot do so. To say the obvious, change that is forced upon people can be terribly disruptive.
My friend went on to note the sense of endurance that is infused into the Benedictine tradition. Those who practice this way of life pay attention to spirit, body and mind, and a balanced attention to each is what allows for endurance. It means that after a crisis has finally passed, there’s still something to work with. It also suggests that after such trials, people are not left with only disillusionment and a pile of shattered aspirations. There is still hope that can revive them and work still to do.
There is a wonderful passage in the First Book of Kings that describes how the prophet Elijah listens for the voice of God. Elijah waits patiently, but he doesn’t hear that voice in ways one might expect of the Almighty. The voice wasn’t there in the fierce and roaring wind. Nor was it in the earthquake or raging fire. Finally, at long last, the voice of God came in a tiny whispering sound. Barely audible, that was how God chose to speak to Elijah that day.
Adapting our expectations of God is how monks survive and how people shift from crisis mode to endurance mode. At the risk of pushing a comparison too far, searching for God is a bit like long-distance running. Runners must pace themselves for the long haul, stick to a plan and factor in even the littlest of things. They must also be aware that catastrophes can crop up along the way. Absent such attention, who knows where they might end up?
It’s important to accept the possibility that ordinary things can fall apart. If people who dedicate themselves to service but cannot serve end up adrift, what throws monks off balance? Well, I would submit that it is in the mundane stuff, and those are the things that have thrown me for a loop in this pandemic. Changing our seating chart in choir is a good example. We had to do it because we had to spread ourselves out, and by now I have come to appreciate it. But it started off as a big inconvenience. We’ve also endured a total reorganization of our refectory and our ways of dining. That’s had its ups and downs, and though it’s been necessary to do, it’s been difficult. And then there are the liturgical changes. To cite but one example, I never really liked tambourines nor thought of sticks striking against wood as a form of sacred music, even in their heyday in the 1970s. Sadly, their revival has yielded no personal growth, but at least I’ve owned up to my lack of sophistication when it comes to the newest trends in sacred music. So I am learning to live with it.
This is a roundabout way of saying that those who seek God — be it in a marriage, in a monastery, in the workplace or even on vacation — must pay attention to the little things in life. It’s in the littlest of things that we have the chance to show respect and love for one another. It’s through the little sacrifices that we help one another along the way. It’s in our attention to the needs of one another where we sometimes help others out of the ditch and hope that they will do the same for us. But most of all, in the little things we hear the voice of God whispering to us. Perhaps that is why Saint Benedict begins his Rule with the word Listen.
NOTES
+On August 4th I participated in the monthly meeting of the council of the Subpriory of Our Lady of Philermo of the Order of Malta. While it was a virtual meeting, its locus was in California. Later that day I gave a Zoom presentation to the Boston Leadership team of the Order of Malta.
+On August 6th I had some minor surgery at The Saint Cloud Hospital and then spent a couple of days recovering from the greatest ill effect — the anesthesia. It is the latest installment in my attempt to get through a spate of deferred medical maintenance. Next on the list is cataract surgery in September.
+On August 9th I participated in a service that laid to rest in the abbey cemetery the ashes of Kathleen Kovacs, who passed away after a long illness. I have known Kathleen and her husband Andy for years, and have been friends with Andy since his college days at Saint John’s. Several years ago I introduced them to the Order of the Holy Sepulchre and was present when they were invested into the Order. May she Rest In Peace.
+The quotation with which I opened today’s post is from a letter of Michael Grace, who is the president of the Western Association of the Order of Malta. The reference to the prophet Elijah is taken from I Kings 19: 9a, 11-13a. It was the first reading for the liturgy of Sunday, 9 August.
+The photos in today’s post have in common the fact that I took them while I stood in the plaza in front of Sexton Commons at Saint John’s University. I’ve especially loved the venerable maple tree, pictured below, and it has been a favorite of so many students over the decades. It is a little startling to see hints of autumn color on a few of the leaves.