Listen, really listen

 

I arrived before daybreak at the Abbey of Gethsemani, unaware that the day I had chosen as a personal day of prayer and reflection happened to be the Feast Day for St. Francis of Assisi, and for me that made the day all the more special, for St. Francis is one of my favorite religious persons in all of history. His decision to seek simplicity, walk the pathway of peace, love animals and respect nature has been an abiding source of inspiration to me.

So, after joining the monks for prayer, I took to the Knobs, the cone-shaped hills characteristic of this area of Kentucky, and in so doing, I thought I would not only honor the spirit of St. Francis---the patron saint of animals and ecology--- but most of all, I would listen for God out there, in the woods.

After an hour of hard hiking, I sat down for a brief respite---the stillness of a pristine lake before me, the blue sky stretching like the vault of heaven above me, the lush forest behind me. I felt like Simon Peter, who atop the mountain with Jesus, wanted to stay there and build a tabernacle.

Even when I left the environs of Gethsemani hours later, it was as if I were departing with St. Francis and a cloud of witnesses cheering me on.

But mountaintop experiences don’t last forever. Like Peter, James, and John, I too would have to return with Jesus from atop the mountain to the world of people below.

Within twenty four short hours, I had gone from walking with Francis in in the spirit of peace to fighting like Attila the Hun in a winner take all argument.

I had an image of an irate Italian taxi driver, shaking his fist out the car window while yelling expletives at other drivers and thought, At least I’m not like that.

But I felt like it.

When we respond to an angry person with a fiery barb, instead of piercing them, we only allow our cutting remark to reverberate back into our own soul because in lashing out, we adopt their anger: We become our own enemy.

But, by settling down and getting back in touch with our true self, we at least retain the possibility of maintaining peace. When we allow the Spirit to calm our spirit, an amazing thing can happen: We can listen, really listen, to the anger of others and hear what’s being said beneath their words. Then, words used as weapons of war can be transformed into instruments of peace.

Maybe that’s one reason so many are attracted to Pope Francis: People have the sense that he is ready to listen. And it’s difficult to be angry with someone who is wise enough to stay quiet and caring enough to really listen.

On St. Francis’ Feast Day, the Pope returned to Assisi to celebrate the saint for whose name he shares. Visiting a soup kitchen, he ate with some physically and mentally challenged people. The man who manages the soup kitchen described the Pope by saying, in a heavy Italian accent, “He don’t speak a lot, ummm, he leesten.”

Indeed, the pope listens because he apparently is at peace with himself.

St. Francis would be proud.

But much more importantly, so is the Lord.

Both remind me: Settle down. Be at peace.

And leesten, really leesten.