[soundcloud url=”http://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/90933826″ params=”color=ff6600&auto_play=false&show_artwork=true&show_playcount=true&show_comments=true” width=” 100%” height=”81″ iframe=”false” /]
by Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist
Congregation on May 5, 2013
My friend Marilyn’s large quilted bag contained her Kindle for playing Solitare and her iPhone. Also inside was a beautiful prayer shawl she’s working on, crafted in soft yarn and in colors of gray, blue, pink and white. She also had in the bag a bottle of water and a copy of a book by Chris Bohjalian entitled The Double Bind.
As for me, my pass-the-time-away items included my laptop computer and Smart Phone, the May issue of National Geographic magazine, and a book by Paul Auster called The Brooklyn Follies. I also brought along my own crochet project – a long, green, and rather crooked-looking beginner’s scarf that I’ve been half-heartedly working on for months.
I’d like to tell you that we piled our bags into my car this past Friday at 7:30 AM to head for a trip to the mountains, the lake or a park. But that wasn’t the case.
Rather, after I picked Marilyn up from her home in Stockbridge, Georgia, we drove instead to Piedmont Fayette Hospital about 40 minutes away for her standing every-Friday appointment. First on the agenda: blood work. Next: two drip bags of steroids administered through a port in her chest. Finally: the large bag of chemo, clear, cold and toxic.
My friend Marilyn has endometrial cancer, Stage 3. She is scheduled for chemotherapy once a week for 24 weeks. That’s six months if you’re doing the math – or simply a very long time if you’re not. This past Friday was Round Number 7. And, I was on schedule to be Marilyn’s companion for this latest leg of her journey.
Marilyn turned 70 this year. She and I have known each other for I think about 15 years. I have lost count.
I could say that she’s been my friend all those years, but that’s not an entirely accurate description. You see, Marilyn is my spiritual mentor. In fact, we have had another standing weekly appointment with one another. Every Sunday evening at 8:30 pm, I call Marilyn on the phone to check in about me – a self-focused check-in that includes an update on my work and personal life, as well as my emotional and spiritual well-being.
And each Sunday, Marilyn asks some questions, or gently shares a story of her own to provide a different perspective on what I might be feeling, thinking or experiencing.
But mostly on Sunday evenings, Marilyn just listens. She quietly gives me space each week to spill my guts . . . so much space that sometimes I will eventually puncture the silence on her end of the phone by asking, “Are you still there?”
The gift of listening with no other agenda is one that I find precious and rare. And, it seems that in my busy life – in our busy lives – it’s one that is so needed. Educator, Writer and Quaker Parker Palmer says that the shy soul – which we might understand as our most authentic self – needs safe space to emerge. And that safe space, Palmer argues, can be created by offering one another the simple gift of listening.
I believe that the art of listening – which is the topic of my sermon today – is needed among us here and in our wider world. Listening without interruptions or without offering opinions . . . listening only to make it possible for another person to more fully occupy his or her most authentic self . . . can be an act of supreme generosity and personal humility.
By cultivating the art of listening and bringing a heart for listening to our relationships with each other, I believe it’s possible to foster trust and create opportunities for deep intimacy in our lives. And, ultimately, trust and intimacy are what’s needed if a faith community like ours is to live in love and bring a message of love to those we hope to serve.
There are many theories, books and how-to courses out there on the art of listening. My guess is that, like me, many of you may have encountered some of these.
This morning, I am going to focus on Parker Palmer’s suggestions about listening, because he sees listening as a spiritual practice. It’s in this context of cultivating a spiritual practice that I would like to invite you to consider his words and his ways of listening to others and how it invites the soul forward and changes hearts.
First, to understand how hungry we are for persons who will listen deeply to our souls (or our most authentic selves), it might help to understand what it is Parker Palmer thinks the soul wants.
In his book A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life, Palmer lists four things he believes that the soul – or that most authentic part of ourselves – wants for us:
- The soul wants to keep us rooted in the ground of our own being. It resists the tendency of other faculties, like the intellect and ego, to uproot us from who we are.
- The soul wants to keep us connected to the community in which we find life. It understands that relationships are necessary if we are to thrive.
- The soul wants to tell us the truth about ourselves, the world and the relation between the two. It wants to do this whether that truth is easy or hard to hear.
- The soul wants to give us life. It wants us to pass that gift along to become life-givers in a world that deals too much death.[1]
These seem like simple enough desires and ones that we would naturally want to honor in our daily lives. Yet, Palmer believes that paying attention to the soul or true self is incredibly difficult. We talk ourselves out of listening to what our souls want because we think we’re being too selfish . . . or think perhaps our need is artificial and doesn’t represent any real or core dimension of ourselves.
Palmer argues that our soul, or true self, is real and that, most of all, it needs encouragement. While the soul, he says, may be tough, resilient and resourceful, it’s also incredibly shy. He writes:
Just like a wild animal, [the soul] seeks safety in the sense underbrush, especially when other people are around. If we want to see a wild animal, we know that the last thing we should do is go crashing through the woods yelling for it to come out.
But if we will walk quietly into the woods, sit patiently at the base of a tree, breathe with the earth, and fade into our surroundings, the wild creature we seek might put in an appearance. We may see it only briefly and only out of the corner of an eye – but the sight is a gift we will always treasure as an end in itself.[2]
As a Quaker, Parker Palmer’s experience with making space for the shy soul to appear has been cultivated in his practices of listening and holding the silence at Sunday worship services and in a practice known as forming a “circle of trust” where persons come together for the purpose of offering the gift of listening.
In this morning’s reading, Palmer describes an experience of using the silence of a Quaker meeting to see the soul of a person with whom he has struggled. In this moment, Palmer is not just seeing the pulse of this woman’s heartbeat; he is listening to her with his presence and by observing her life spirit. “Compassionate silence,” says Palmer,” can help us connect with each other, to touch and be touched by truths that evade us all.”[3]
Offering compassionate silence as a way of listening to another’s shy soul and achieving human communion is something that is possible when we are not invested in a particular outcome.
Offering silence may be difficult for some of us, as we tend to feel of more value to another or to ourselves when we can offer opinions or solutions. But Palmer believes that stretches of compassionate silence are really what we need to open our eyes and hearts to another’s authentic self and create safe space for it to emerge.
Palmer also believes that we must leave our agendas behind when listening with an open mind and heart to another. Some of you have heard me quote his four rules of listening. They’re easy to remember, but I also believe challenging to do.
They suggest that, when we listen, 1. We refrain from fixing the other person’s problems; 2. We avoid saving them from making what we think are big mistakes; 3. We don’t advise them on what to do; and 4. We resist the urge to set the record straight and tell them what we think is the truth they need to hear.
“No fixing, saving, advising or setting the record straight . . . Instead, we listen receptively to the truth of others; we ask each other honest, open questions instead of giving counsel; and we offer each other the healing and empowering gifts of silence and laughter.”[4]
So, knowing that our souls want rootedness, connection to others, the truth and to give life – and that our shy souls may need the encouragement of agenda-free listening and compassionate silence to come forward and really be present to others – where might we go to experience such a welcoming embrace of safety and care?
At Northwest, we are attempting to make this experience possible by offering members the opportunity to participate in Chalice Groups.
Chalice Groups is the name Northwest has given to its small discussion group program. These groups are comprised of six to ten persons that meet monthly, usually in members’ homes, for about 1-1/2 hours.
They are not therapy groups or social groups – although group members often report that they form deep bonds with co-participants and often seek opportunities to socialize and have fun with their group members in other settings. Rather, Chalice Groups are designed to offer a safe space to discuss matters of ethical, spiritual or personal significance.
These groups are part of the small group ministry program that is encouraged and supported throughout Unitarian Universalist congregations in North America. The roots for these small groups actually go back to our Judeo-Christian heritage.
In Orthodox Judaism, for example, there is a tradition of forming small groups of ten men each called minyans who would participate regularly in readings and public prayer.
In early Christianity, Jesus taught his disciples in small groups, with the gospel readings emphasizing his relationship with his core group of 12 disciples. Later, 1st century Christians in ancient Palestine practiced meeting in small groups in persons’ homes (for prayer, preaching and baptism) . . . for safety and due to the small size of what was then a Jewish sectarian movement . . . By the year 100 CE, it’s estimated that there were 40 small groups or “churches” in place.
In our Unitarian Universalist tradition, the practice of gathering in small groups for meaningful discussions could be found in Boston in the early 19th century. Unitarian Margaret Fuller, who was a feminist, Transcendentalist, American journalist and critic, held what were known as “conversations” in 1839 in a Boston bookstore. These conversations were attended by mostly Unitarian women, many of whom lacked access to higher education, and occasionally a few men.
Discussion topics included Greek mythology, philosophy, art, poetry, and feminist topics. Lydia Emerson (wife of Unitarian Minister and Essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson), Mary Channing (wife of Unitarian Minister William Ellery Channing), and Unitarian Julia Ward Howe (Abolitionist and author of the Battle Hymn of the Republic) were just a few of the more than 200 women who participated in these conversations over a five-year period.
Today, small group ministry programs can be found in other faith traditions, although they may not necessarily be referred to as such. In our Unitarian Universalist tradition, we often refer to them as “covenant groups” because central to the group is a covenant, or promise, made to each other to listen respectfully and accompany one another on a deep intimate journey.
At Northwest, the Community Ministry team is launching sign-ups today and next Sunday for four new chalice groups, including two groups for persons who share some additional common ground . . . such as being parents of young children or an interest in earth-based spirituality. These groups will be led by trained facilitators who are committed to the art of listening that includes these foundational Parker Palmer’s principles.
So, whether we are considering joining a Northwest Chalice Group or we find ourselves spending time with a dear friend, let’s keep in mind that there is a shy soul in there that wants to come forward, find connection, speak its truth and give life to others.
So, let’s make space for that shy soul to emerge by being open-hearted and open-minded listeners, and by leaving our fears and agendas aside. Because when we are able to do this for each other, we will participate in a rich and meaningful human communion . . . and that our presence and attention can speak volumes.
May it be so for you and for me. Amen.