by Fred & Gloria Strickert
This last Thursday I (Fred) had the opportunity to
lead the regular Thursday noon Eucharist service at Sabeel, something I’ve been
invited to do occasionally when Anglican priest Naim Ateek is traveling out of the country. It’s a good opportunity to go over the Sunday
texts in advance with a small group of
individuals committed to peace and justice issues.
Now it is the custom at Sabeel that following
the sermon, we pause for a few moments for those dozen or so persons present to
discuss the sermon. Sometimes this elicits a long moment of
silence. Sometimes a few short
comments. But this week was different, my
words on the Gospel from Mark 7 about the law, its misuse, and the contrast between externals
and what comes from heart, had struck a chord with an older Palestinian woman, who
began to express her concerns about many current events that reflected how the law today is used against the powerless while protecting the powerful.
And you can easily imagine some of the things she mentioned.
And perhaps you’ve been in situations like
this where you can only listen and nod your head in agreement. "Yes I understand" —but you feel helpless,
powerless about what can be done to change things.
What words can I say to help her feel better, or more hopeful—Except, “I
understand.”
Later. on the way back to the Old City, it dawned on
me. While my sermon focused on Mark 7,
in reality, we had been acting out the James 1 text assigned as the epistle for Pentecost 14.
“Be quick to listen, slow to talk, slow to
anger.” (James 1:19)
Listening is difficult, because we feel like
we should be able to say something to make things better.
Listening is difficult because we would prefer to be
in control, and if we can monopolize the talking, we may keep our place of power.
Listening is difficult because so often we are so
occupied by our own concerns. We have our own issues, so do we want to surrender our place at center stage to give way to another?
Listening is
difficult because when we are silently listening, we often find ourselves feeling
vulnerable and powerless, no different from the person speaking to us.
Yet note how James holds up listening as a
very important ministry that all of us can offer.
“Every generous act of giving is from above,”
James begins this passage (James 1:17). The faith
that God creates in us, faith in a God
who gives of himself through his Son, generates every act of giving. That word Every should capture our attention--
It’s not just the heroic actions—like a
Rachel Corrie giving her life for what she believed, or a Mitri Raheb, risking
his reputation for his courageous prophetic speech.
Every act of giving is from above. And in our acts of accompaniment, James would
place listening right there among the most needed.
At the end of this section, James explains the
essence of religion, "To care for widows and orphans in their distress" (James 1:27), (the powerless
of our societies, those forgotten by our politics and our ecclesiastical smugness). And here listening
fits right in because listening offers them dignity, listening recognizes their
humanity, listening gives them voice when no one else hears their cry for help.
And when we feel vulnerable
and powerless in those situations of listening, then we find ourselves on the
same level, we really understand what accompaniment is all about. It may be the greatest gift of all.
Early in the week, when meeting with our new
YAGMs, one asked the question how they could keep from becoming a burden to the
people they befriend. They had all heard
about the generosity of Palestinians, and their hospitality especially when it
comes to meals and visits to their homes.
It’s difficult for those of us from privileged backgrounds, from
comfortable lifestyles, with more pocket money than some people’s monthly
salaries. How not to become a
burden?
Be slow to talk, be slow to anger, but quick to listen.
Listening can be to
most generous gift you can offer,
to the teenagers whose young mother has just been diagnosed with cancer.
to a mother whose children have never seen the
Mediterranean or Galilee,
to the husband and father who has been out of work for longer than he can remember,
to the child whose uncle is in prison,
to one of our pastors delayed at the checkpoint for three and a half hours,
to the family that has received demolition orders for their home and confiscation orders for their land,
to the young grandmother whose daughter has married a husband from
Jerusalem and now The Wall separates her from seeing her new granddaughter,
to one who simply can’t understand how life could have dealt them such a bad hand of
cards.
Be Quick to Listen.
Traditionally we have assumed that Jesus has been giving her private biblical tutoring sessions. But just maybe it's another kind of listening. Perhaps Jesus was confiding in her his frustrations over the
fading crowds, or his fears over what might befall him in Jerusalem, or his
concern about one wayward disciple, or about Jesus’s own good
friend Lazarus, her brother, who hasn’t been looking well lately, and about
Martha who seems so preoccupied in doing something, that she can’t just sit
there and listen. “You have chosen the
better part.” says Jesus.
Only then did I realize that slow business never bothered him and
that his selling coffee was just an excuse for him to listen to people like me. And as he listened to me describing my day, I
understood James’ words.
Every generous gift comes from above.
by Fred & Gloria Strickert
