Compassionate Listening

The following is a talk given by Fr. Bjorn at the Lewis-Clark Center for Spiritual Living.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be always a reflection of the loving spirit of God, our stronghold and our teacher.

The following is a poem by Christina Rossetti that my teacher read to me when I was in 2nd grade. I have carried it with me since then, and often reflect on its meaning. I invite you to take a few moments and reflect on what it might mean to you, and what it might teach us about listening for the still, small voice God in our lives.

 

Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you,

but when the leaves hang trembling,

the wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind? Neither you, nor I.

But when the trees bow down their heads,

the wind is passing by.

It is an honor to be here among you; I offer my sincerest thanks on behalf of both myself and the monastic community to which I belong for the welcoming environment and the sincere connections that we have found here.

Within this sacred space, we come together to celebrate the movement of God in our lives and the lives of those around us. It has been a great source of joy and learning to me, to experience the genuine gratitude and fellowship shared in this space; my deepest self finds rest, refreshment and new ways of thinking each time I join with you in celebration of the great gifts we share.

I have observed that many, if not most of us have come to find some level of comfort with silence, and have experienced a place of stillness in which we are able to hear the voice of the Spirit that instructs us in the ways of love, self-discovery and profound internal growth.

The practice of mindful listening that is cultivated by our encounters with silence is near and dear to my heart. In order to nurture the kind of understanding that nourishes my spirit and enables me to carry out the tasks I am called to do, I must begin from a place of stillness and strive to maintain an attitude of listening as I attend to the work set before me.

In the same way, each of us are called to seek out that place of stillness where the Spirit moves freely and awakens us to our own ability to be a conduit of

God’s loving presence in the lives of those around us.

This does not mean that we should seek to convert others to our own ways and ideas about how we encounter God in our lives; such actions and attitudes are nothing more than self-service, which naturally leads to the exclusion of some who bear the greatest need for a profound encounter with the love that we know as God in their lives.

The kind of service I am talking about springs up like water drawn from a deep well; a well that, within each of us, is filled with a kind of refreshment that never runs dry.

From this pure and sacred place, we can find the tools needed for the work set before us, which is the work of compassionate listening. The most sacred attribute of this well is that the more we draw from it with the intention of freely sharing the gifts it bestows upon us, the more refreshing and plentiful it becomes, and is more readily shared with us, providing sanctuary and solace to our deepest and innermost selves.

There have been times in each of our lives where, in the face of great challenges, uncertainty or amidst the burdens of suffering that it may seem as if no one can hear the words, whether spoken or silent, that convey our deepest desires, which are to love and be loved, and to know and be known.

It may seem as if some of the people around us are simply biding their time in wait for their turn to speak; hearing our words but never our voice. This kind of insincerity can be devastating to a soul in suffering.

We must, therefore, be diligent in cultivating an attitude of listening that allows us to hear the true voices of those around us, which in turn allows for a profound communication that comes from a place of unadulterated compassion.

We must be mindful to the way we listen if we are to cultivate listening that is more than simply waiting for our turn to speak. Put your wandering thoughts and distractions aside and be present with the person who is in need of your ears.

These kinds of connections nourish us; they provide us with glimpses of affirmation on our paths toward a Godly state of being. This kind of profound nourishment can be easily seen if we take the time to look for it, both on an individual, as well as a collective level.

It is this form of connected awareness that can help guide us through the fog that clouds our ability to move through the suffering in our lives. In the same way, it can instruct us in the ways of guiding those around us who are overwhelmed by the suffering they experience.

I have a deep conviction that many, if not all of the great teachers throughout history, when speaking of loving one another as God loves us, had this kind of honest connection to our innermost state of being in mind.

Over the coming days, I encourage you to recall the meaning that the words spoken here today convey to your heart, and observe the ways in which you respond to the truth that you have found in your practice of listening.

May the abundant peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, that you may be a witness to the awesome love of God in the world.

The Modern Hermit

In ancient times, men and women would move out into the wilderness, living in caves or small structures that they had built for themselves and observing a life of prayer, silence, fasting and sacred reading. These people were known as the Desert Fathers and Mothers, and they were the first recorded Christian monastics.

Their hermitages or clusters (also known as a Laura) were often visited by pilgrims seeking wisdom and those seeking to take on the eremitic life for themselves. Newcomers would be tested to see if they could handle the often harsh conditions of this way of monastic life, and many would fail. For more about the Desert Fathers and Mothers, see "Desert Fathers and Mothers".

Today hermits live a very different lifestyle than their earlier predecessors. Many hermits nowadays live in cities, with their homes serving as their hermitages. Some work secular jobs while others are retired or disabled, but all of them share in a holy solitude as much as is possible given their circumstances.

Very few modern hermits receive visitors. Some belong to religious orders that are dispersed (meaning they live apart from one another), and some are simply solitaries who have professed monastic vows. Whatever the case may be, they all share in the historic life of prayer, meditation, solitude, study, and work.

I myself belong to a small dispersed community. I have the luxury of living out in the country in a rented house that serves as my monastic enclosure, which I do not leave unless it is absolutely necessary (for reasons such as procuring groceries or doctors appointments). I am disabled, so I am free to devote all of my time to the monastic life. The gentle rhythm of pray, eat, and work dictates my days, and there is a high level of environmental silence with the exception of the noise from the farm on which my house sits.

In some ways, the life of the modern hermit is much, much easier than that of the desert fathers and mothers, and in some ways it is more difficult. Holy solitude and environmental silence are hard to find if you live in a city, and for many modern hermits, secular work is necessary for their sustenance.

Whatever the life circumstances of the modern hermit may be, the driving force of their vocation is the same: a deep and consuming desire to serve their Creator.

Question for reflection: How might I better serve my Creator?

How to Love Your Neighbor

In yesterday's fellowship hour, we were reminded by novice Br. Elisha Therese that we are called to love. This means loving our Creator, ourselves and our neighbors, and praying for those who would harm us.

When I consider what would drive a person do to a hateful and evil thing, I wonder how badly such a person has been wounded in their life, and how much pain and suffering they carry around with them, most times without even knowing it. It makes me very sad to think that some people carry such burdens and that the only way they know how to deal with them is to lash out at others, in fear and anguish.

When I look at the world at large, I see the same anguish and hatred being perpetuated repeatedly, in many different forms such as the fight for equal rights, access to healthcare, starvation, and most especially war, both for profit and for religious ideals.

I often ask myself how to bandage the wounds of the world. The answer is quite simple in logic, but very difficult in its execution; to cultivate peace and act with love.

You're probably thinking, how do we do such a thing in the midst of all of this hatred?

Every small act of kindness cultivates peace, whether it is a smile, holding the door for someone or providing ears to hear them; these small acts cultivate both inner and outer peace in us and the people we come into contact with.

So, the first step toward following our Creator's command to love is to seek peace, first within ourselves, second within our communities and third in the world at large. Love will naturally follow, but we must work harder at loving one another than simply being nice to one another.

Loving one another is a great beast to slay; people always seem to be trying their best to resist both the love of their creator and the love given to them by their fellow human beings. It is my belief that this is caused by a cultural programming of "you're not good enough, rich enough or pretty enough unless you buy the right car, smoke the right cigarette and believe in the right image of God".

It takes much, much more work to love a person than to simply make peace with them. But this the work that has been set before us by our Creator, and must be attended to with the same enthusiasm as seeking peace.

As monastics, we spend our lives learning to do this single task. Because of our dedication to learning to love as God loves, other fruits of the spirit spring up naturally and with seemingly great ease. For example, I do not debate on whether to open a door for, or to smile at a stranger, I simply do it because it is the peaceful and loving thing to do.

But what about those who have wronged us? What do we do with the people who have hurt us so badly that we find it nigh impossible to truly forgive them, let alone love them?

We are taught through the Gospels that we are to pray for them and to offer them the peace of God. Their actions are a reflection of their heart. As I mentioned before, a person who does an evil or hurtful thing must be hurting inside, and so we must pray for our Creator to heal them. If we approach the situation from this point of view, forgiveness is not only possible, but it becomes easy.

I encourage you to take ten minutes each day and reflect on who is hurting in your life. You can probably guess correctly if you look for the warning signs; anger, manipulative, judgemental and dishonest behaviors, and gossip, just to name a few. These are the people who need forgiving, who need love, who thirst for peace.

The Attitude of Silence

If you have ever visited a monastery, it is likely that one of the first things you notice about it is that it is usually completely silent. From the way people greet each other to the way people walk, there is a quiet reverence within the walls of the monastic buildings and around the grounds of the monastery as well.

For some, this level of environmental quiet brings a peaceful interior rest, while for others, it is more than a little unsettling. This level of silence can quiet our fears and refresh our souls, but it can also stir up a small amount of terror or make our thoughts nearly deafening within us.

At this point in your formation, you ought to have become acquainted, and to some level, comfortable with environmental silence. This should apply to both to speaking and technological devices; each of us should have at least one period of total environmental silence each day.

But what about the noises we can’t control? The birds will continue to chirp, household appliances buzz off and on and for those of you who live in metropolitan areas, you have the noise of passing cars, busy people and a long list of other possible noises.

This is where our attitudes come into the spotlight. Having an “attitude of silence” isn’t just about being quiet despite a noisy environment. In order to effectively maintain your interior silence in the midst of environmental noise, you must learn to keep the noise from being an annoyance.

When we are annoyed it is easy to slip into a state of anger, which can easily disrupt our decorum. Being annoyed also makes it easy to be confrontational, argumentative, bitter and uncharitable toward others. So, how do we attain the kind of interior silence that lets us be at peace despite noise?

As the saying goes, practice makes perfect. It can probably be said for certain that none of us have achieved the level of silence needed to be perfectly at peace in the midst of noise. It can also be said that developing and attitude of interior quietness will go a long way toward ensuring decorum is kept and a joyful outlook is within our reach.

Many years ago, I found myself on retreat at a hermitage in the middle of the Texas desert. The

superior of that community, during one of our spiritual direction chats, articulated to me that in order for her to truly reach a contemplative state, that there needed to be perfect environmental silence around her.

At the time, I agreed with her. Of course silence on an environmental level was necessary for contemplation. How could it happen any other way? I was still a very green 26 years old at the time, and had yet to truly experience the inner stillness of which she spoke.

She further articulated to me that when there was not perfect silence around her, that it wore on her nerves, sometimes to the point of bringing her to tears. Friends, this holy woman is not the only person to tell me this story, and I have been guilty of acting it out myself from time to time.

Now that I am older, I look back on this shared moment between myself and the good Superior of that hermitage, and I think to myself, “well, that’s just silly.”

You see the enclosure in which I currently find myself is quite remote, and even out here there is rarely perfect environmental silence. Birds chirp, dogs bark, sheep bleat, the wind blows and the house creaks and settles. Even though I do enjoy a high level of environmental silence, it is far from perfect.

It has since occurred to me that, where contemplative prayer, personal silence and monastic discipline are concerned, it is the personal intention to be quiet that matters more than environmental silence. I like to call this “the attitude of silence”, because it is the intention of the person to be silent, rather than the situation that they find themselves in that provokes silence within them.

So, let the birds sing, the house creak and the wind blow. These things are beyond our control anyway, so there is little use in getting upset because they infringe on your perfect silence. Harbor the attitude of silence and I guarantee that you will find yourself just as still and satisfied as those who do enjoy perfect environmental silence.

The Lover vs. The Dictator

A Franciscan priest who I am a great fan of, Fr. Richard Rohr, said something that struck a chord deep within me. He said: “Those who know God well - mystics, hermits, prayerful people, those who risk everything to find God - always meet a lover, not a dictator.”
 
This statement spurred me toward a line of thinking that led me to several questions, the first being, “In my life, how much am I willing to risk to truly encounter the Spirit”, and subsequently, “am I living authentically the life I have been called to, which is a life of humility, prayer and reflection?”

The same questions could be asked of each of us in with respect to the lives that we have been called to live. After all, mysticism is not just for those who give up their worldly possessions in exchange for a simple robe, it is for anyone who truly wishes and strives to seek after it.

As many who are called to the monastic way of life will tell you, giving up our fancy clothes and putting on a simple robe is probably the easiest part of what we do. Self-examination, a constant attitude of prayerfulness and a life of putting others’ needs before our own wants - these things are the hard parts of our calling to make a way of life out of actively searching for the God of our hearts.

That is not to say that our lives are filled with suffering, or that these difficult things prevent us from finding happiness; on the contrary, the monastic way of life brings with it a kind of joy that is both exquisite and indescribable, and many gifts that we, as hermits, monks, nuns, friars and sisters would often not have found by any other means. To be honest, I stumble concerning those things which I am called to do. I get angry, I harbor uncharitable thoughts, I miss prayer times and I have been known to purchase things that I do not need, either out of impulse or a fear of not having enough.

In short, I fail to trust in God, and I fail to always seek after God. My faults aside, I have found in my life that many people are perplexed by the idea of indescribable joy in relation to God. The God that they have heard of through various means such as their church leaders, misinterpretations of texts held as holy and society in general paint for them a picture of an angry, judgemental and wrathful creature who examines their every thought and action, looking for faults, shortcomings and their good intentions which are “not-good-enough” in this awful and enraged being’s eyes.

Who could fall in love with a God such as this? Who could be inspired to carry out charitable works that uplift the poor and the broken? Surely some could be moved to these tasks, but their inspiration comes from a place of fear and paranoia as opposed to the place of indescribable love and joy that was mentioned earlier. Who would want to live their life in such terror?

And yet so many people do. They crowd into churches to hear the woeful tales of The Dictator-God and fall on their their knees to beg forgiveness of sins they are not even guilty of. This happens week after week, and for many, this happens for the entirety of their lives.

What a sad and terrible way to live. So how did so many overcome this terrible image and find the profound and inexpressible love and joy that mystics, monastics and people who make their own daily lives an expression of prayer?

Now, I’m no expert, but I would venture to say that these kinds of ecstatic experiences began with the words “Be still.” Someone, somewhere heard these words and took them to heart, and in that sweet stillness they found something so exquisite that their only choice was to make a life out of trying to experience it again and again.

This practice would come to be known as mysticism, and it can be seen in virtually every faith known to humans. The great thing about mysticism is that a person need not give up all their earthly possessions and take on a life of discipline and simplicity (although some choose to do so) in order to experience the innumerable benefits that it has to offer; a person simply needs to make an intentional practice out of being still before God.

I say this, not to discount the lives of those who have given everything in favor of prayerful discipline and simplicity, but to invite everyone to escape the bonds of fearful living and enter the valley of absolute delight which is the love of God.

As anyone who has glimpsed this bright and beautiful place will tell you, visiting it will not free you from the day-to-day monotony, the ups-and-downs, doubts, and the sometimes overwhelmingly painful state of human existence. This joyful beauty will, however, when integrated into the very fabric of who you are, make all of these things easier to deal with.

So, in your bustling and hurried lives, you might consider taking 10 small minutes each day to try and be still. Leave your cares, your worries, your to-do lists and your ego at the door to a quiet room and just be still. You may be surprised how, little by little, you are transformed from within from a fearful and wrathful person into a joyful and loving one because in the end, we reflect what our image of God is by our behavior.

Answering the Call

Have you ever wondered what the monastic life is really like?

Have you felt drawn to it?

If so, please consider viewing the short vocational video I made for those considering the monastic way of life:

The Light Burden

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." -Mt. 11:28
There is a saying that proposes that the monastic life is one of holy leisure. As anyone who has lived a monastic life will tell you, this is not how it appears from the inside. There are chores to be done, people to be fed, and prayers to be said; indeed the life of a monastic is very busy.
Although the monastic has very few free moments in his or her day, they are generally more willing to give of that free time to others than their secular counterparts (this is simply my observation). I once encountered a monk on retreat who interrupted his silence to welcome me, though I was not a member of his order. This is telling; the retreat (that is to say the withdrawal away from the business of the monastery for a time of intense silent reflection) is held by many monastic houses in the highest regard, and is typically not to be interfered with by insiders or outsiders alike.
The charity of that monk will always stick with me. He broke more than a few rules to show me kindness, and for that I am eternally grateful. But I digress.
When I compare all the work (that being manual labor and prayer alike) that I do to any job I had in my secular life, my work seems quite easy. Sure there are chores that I would rather not do and times when I would rather be sleeping than praying but who doesn't desire to be resting when they are working instead?
One of the most important teachings of the monastic life is turning work into prayer. If you begin your work with prayer and pray while you are working, then the labor before you becomes an act of sacrifice and thanksgiving to your Creator instead of a dreaded chore that we may drag our feet to accomplish. In this way the work we do becomes easy and worthwhile.
I encourage you to give prayerful work a try. You may find that, as the passage above from the Gospel of St. Matthew says, the yoke is easier and the burden is lighter.