Speaking the language of the heart: Listening with the ears of your heart.

Someone said to me recently “I can’t always tell when you are joking or when you are being serious.” I was half pleased about this. The truth is that sometimes I am at my most serious when I am joking, or at least half joking. There is a place for humour, even in the most serious situations. Sometimes absurdity, helps get you through. “There is a time for everything under the sun.”

People often call to ask my advice about things. I am not sure why they do, as I am loathed to give advice. I will listen and I will share my experience, but I am loathed to tell another person what they should or shouldn’t do. How would I know in any case. The times I do, when I am very direct, are few and far between and they are usually what you might call emergency moments. Again “There is a time for everything under the sun”

I have learnt that often in life all that people really need is someone to share things with, someone who will listen and empathise, not solve their problems for them. I am usually good at this, although sometimes I am not. I have my limits. I noticed I had drifted away while listening to someone the other day. The truth was that I was exhausted. I had been holding a rather challenging memorial service, which had just ended. Someone was sharing some things with me afterwards and I had just drifted away. There are other times when I get distracted by the events of my life too, sometimes the distraction can help.

This happened on Monday. I was out in the park with Molly. She was a having a whale of a time playing with other dogs. She has become a bit of a ball thief. She is not really interested in the ball, she has just learned that if she grabs the ball and runs off with it, then the other dog will chase her. She loves being chased and she loves to wrestle with other dogs. While she was playing my phone rang. It was a friend whose mum has been seriously ill and has been in hospital. She had some concerns about her mum as well as other family issues. She needed to talk. I listened and encouraged and then suddenly found myself distracted by the dog Molly was playing with getting over excited and somewhat amorous. It is ok as he isn’t intact. The dogs owner did nothing as she was engaged in an exercise class with a whole load of other women. I have met them before and her cockerpoo likes to dominate. I spent the next twenty minutes trying to be there for my friend, whilst having to constantly pull the other dog off Molly, only to have her run back to him to continue the wrestling. It was right scene. I kept apologising to my friend. She didn’t mind. Infact if truth be told I think it helped her. The levity and absurdity of the situation lifted her out of her concerns. She was calling for advice or someone to solve her problems, she just needed to talk. More importantly she just needed someone to listen, despite their own problems, someone to bare witness. Not someone to fix, or solve the problem, just to listen, to be present to her. Thankfully as the week has gone on her mum is improving as his her anxiety.

I spend much of my time listening to others, actually to life itself. It is a large part of my role as a minister. Most of the worship I create comes from listening, on oh so many levels and then making some sense of it all. This address being a good example.

Now while I do listen to life on oh so many levels, I do enjoy listening to words spoken from human lips. Words are powerful things, they touch deep places within us. And yet all that words are, when reduced to their merely physical components are vibrating air. This is true and yet it really isn’t true. Words are so much more than their physical components. They connect people to deep, deep places in one another’s beings. They are imitations of the Divine I suspect, they are like seeds in so many ways, they begin to bring salvation or utter destruction. And yet they are just noises formed from vibrating air.

I love listening to people when they speak from their heart; I love listening to people when they speak what they must speak. I have particularly enjoyed listening to the many and varied people who have attended the groups I lead at both congregations. I am fascinated by what comes from those in attendance. I just love listening to folk as they try to articulate their varied understandings of life and their personal spirituality to others. It is the same thing in other groups that I attend, as folk try to articulate their experiences. I love to hear the language of the heart and I love to listen with the ears of my heart. It is Divine activity, it is love coming to life.

Being listened to and especially being accepted and understood is so vital to all people. I have noticed this particularly in the grief group I host. Whenever a new person attends the one common feature for everyone is this sense of loneliness that they express after the loved one has gone, how they feel unheard by others, like their words are not being accepted or that others have tired of hearing them. The beauty of the group is that each can come and speak freely and are truly accepted. I have witnessed some moments of deep connection within the group. I have truly seen love incarnated in the air and words that we share together, it is a truly beautiful blessing.

There is something truly beautiful is speaking words, heart to heart. The language of the heart is not really about correct use of words but a way of being with each other, it is an intention, it is about invitation it is about allowing others to be who they are in your space, this is true openness by the way. Openness is not about telling another all about yourself, instead it is about inviting another to be themselves in your space.

Words connect us in some very special ways, they can be incredibly powerful. They can begin to bring deep healing or can be deeply destructive. What matters is the intention behind them. What seems to matter is the condition of our heart and soul as we speak what we must speak.

Words are powerful they can be either destructive or creative. Perhaps an example of their creative power comes at the beginning of John’s Gospel and the following lines:

'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.
The same was in the beginning with God.
All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made.'

According to John the spoken word can literally create life, in fact all life. Now of course in the original Greek, which these opening words were written in the word for “Word” was originally “Logos” which roughly translated actually does not mean merely “word,” but also “speech,” “principle,” “meaning” or “thought.” In Greek philosophy, it is also referred to as Divine Reason or the Mind of God. So it could mean God speaking life into being, linking it to the first verses from Genesis when God is said to have breathed life into being, remembering always that he saw this creation as “Good”. So “word” here means, in my view, that life is the meaning coming into being and Jesus is the example of this in human form. An example we can all aspire to. For we can all incarnate Love, we can all be a part of the Divine creation. It begins in our words and how we say these words for they are an expression of our meaning. It also begins in how we listen to others. Our ability for each to share, an open loving invitation. This Divine activity. This space between us is the Kin-dom of Love.

When we speak we are not merely flapping our lips, vibrating air we are engaged in Divine activity we are creating or destroying life. It is the same with listening. If we listen with ears of heart we are creating sacred space, this Kin-dom of Love.

There is no greater gift that you can give to another than your time and your presence. When we do, we are truly engaged in Divine activity. You don’t have to say much. Rarely can you solve their troubles. You can give them the most precious gift you possess though, your time and your loving presence. I have often found in those moments the love of God coming alive in me and in the person I am sharing my time and space with.

Minister need it too. I have been accompanied by many people this last year or so. It has touched me deeply. So many folk have been a good loving friend at times. I also sought out professional help, which has now come to an end. Thank you for the help there. This time and space has helped me heal and be ready to move forward in love. I was also intently listened for a couple of hours at the beginning of the year. I was interviewed for a book. I was sent the first draft of the section written from this interview the other day. It was fascinating to read what the author came up with. He was a great listener. I noticed that during that time, sharing my heart and being listened to, I reached some deeper truths about myself, this life, and the God of my limited understanding that is the heart of it. Something the author noticed and commented on in the piece her wrote. It was the same with Hannah the psychologist. That time being listened to in a skillfull way has enabled me to find those sometimes hard to reach places. I am grateful for this. It has enabled me to do listen more intently, to be fully present to this life and those I share it with.

I love people; I love listening to people, to connect with what they are sharing, what they are struggling with. I love to identify with others, to connect. It makes me feel so alive. Now of course this is my job, I am after all a minister. That said we can all minister, to minister is to serve and how do we serve, well by giving our hearts to each other, by opening the ears of our hearts, by creating sacred space.

I’m going to end this address with a beautiful bit of wisdom by Nancy Shaffer “Hauling Out Stones”, which I believe exemplifies what I have been talking about here.

“Hauling Out Stones” by Nancy Shaffer

Once, he said an odd thing:
Forgiving begins with someone
sitting near.
Later, he said, It isn’t for the one
who did the hurting.
It’s the other one who needs it.
One day, without warning,
he wept.
I sat close.
He told an old hurt
in half-sentences and single words
like stones he was coming upon, new;
like tree limbs, broken,
which he needed both arms for hauling aside.
A half-dozen times that summer we sat,
he weeping, hauling out stones,
gathering limbs; I near.
The stones got smaller,
his sentences, longer.
He said, It’s the crying part
I couldn’t do by myself.
And later he said, I feel cleaned out.
A wan smile.
Still later, he said,
I think I’ve done it.
Made a kind of peace, he meant.
He slapped his palm hard against mine.
Laughed. Slapped his palm again.

So lets create that space, where love comes to life. Let’s encourage the language of the heart, lets listen with the ears of our hearts. For if we do, that Kin-dom of Love will begin to built right here, right now.

The devotion below is based on the material in this "blogspot"

Transylvania and the Serenity Prayer: Lessons in love

Once again I have learnt how vital being able to communicate is. I have been reminded that this takes time and effort and a little acceptance. To speak the language of the heart you must first of all listen with the ears of the heart. I know that fear and a sense of vulnerability often block me from this. When I am in fear of vulnerability I do not have ears to hear: my ears are blocked, my heart is blocked, my soul is blocked and I feel alone once again. In such a state I cannot hear the language of the heart as it speaks to me...less than a whisper, but more than silence...

I have just returned from a wonderful and wonder filled trip to Transylvania, spending time with Unitarian brothers and sisters there. I had been invited to participate in the 16^th anniversary celebration of the Unitarian church of Maros St George which is the sister church to one of the two congregations I serve, Dunham Road Altrincham. This first reflection will not go into detail about the trip, I will instead talk about three moments that opened my heart.

The first moment came towards the end of the day visiting several Unitarian communities in the region. It was in a small village called Icland - there is no other settlement in the region whose name ends in land, the story goes that it was originally settled by people from Ireland or England – I walked up the hill towards the parish house and settled into a little schoolroom with a few adults and two teenage girls. For some reason I had images of Thomas Hardy or even Dickens in my mind as I walked up to house and looked at the village, none of the houses had running water, every one had a well. The minister lead a short religious education class and I was deeply moved by the conversation which she translated for me. It was a conversation about struggles with the current economic climate and the importance of letting go of control and not becoming blocked off from God. The words of the serenity prayer came to my mind “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference” – if only we could all find that wisdom to know the difference.  I was able to participate in the conversation, we spoke deep into one another's hearts. I left these people knowing I will probably never see them again, but also knowing that this conversation would be etched on my soul for a long time to come. During the conversation I had felt the presence of the spirit that I call God powerfully. I can picture the woman Elizabeth in my mind’s eye as she talked openly and eloquently of her struggles with life and faith...I had ears that could hear the language that she spoke, the language of the heart.

The next day we visited some local sites and spent some time in the Cultural Palace. I had noticed that I had struggled a little due to lack of space as I was staying with my host family. I am someone who is use to a lot of time and space alone. I live a very busy life but do connect and reconnect alone, throughout the day. I could feel that I was missing this. I was able to sit quietly in the cultural palace, in the main auditorium. I looked up at the ceiling which was incredible and the space below in silence. After a while I began to hear the sounds of an orchestra and choir practising. I began to feel the beauty of the place and in the space and quietness I felt some barriers drop...it opened my heart and I was then able to connect to the heart of the place throughout the rest of the day...I can feel the gentle music now, it was barely a sound but a little more than silence.

On the Saturday I was invited to preach and participate in Maros St George's anniversary service. Press had been invited. There was apparently a great deal of talk about mine and Caroline’s visits. By now I was feeling a part of everything. I had got a real feel for the spirit of the place. It was beginning to speak to me and I was able to hear what it was saying. I had learnt an important phrase for the Translvanian’s this is Ishtan Adjah (not spelt correctly), which means God bless. It is both a greeting and a farewell. I decided as people arrived I would greet them at the door, with these words. I was told afterwards that they thought that they had been greeted by a Hungarian and not an Englishman, as I spoke like a Hungarian. This meant a lot to me as I felt that I had now truly got into the spirit of the place. It was wonderful to participate in the service, to sing hymns in Hungarian and to be invited to preach, along with Tamas, the minister, translating. I opened up my heart and I felt their love too. I also felt and witnessed the spirit that I know as God, flowing through all of this.

This has been a wonderful trip and no doubt I will reflect on it a lot over the next few weeks. The language of the heart is a universal language that can break through any barrier, even fear and self protection. All that it requires is a little bit of faith and a whole lotta love; all that is required are ears that can listen and that wisdom to know the difference...I’ve had a wonderful reminder these past few days. 

Welcoming the stranger

"Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again , come , come." 

— Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

These words by the Sufi mystic Rumi speak powerfully to me.

I believe that they teach us what a religious community should be about. Such communities ought to be about welcoming people – whoever they are and wherever they have been.

This welcome is an invitation to join fellow travellers on a journey together. A journey of hope and not despair, that keeps on inviting the wanderer to "keep coming back". The invitation of course is universal, it is open to all.

The importance of welcoming the stranger is at the root of all the great faith traditions. The ancient Greeks cultivated the concept of  “Xenia” or “guest friendship” They believed that the guest may well be a God in disguise and thus treated them accordingly. In Genesis Abraham is visited by three guests, who he treats like royalty. These guests are later revealed to be angels; in fact it is implied strongly that one may well be God himself. They tell the childless and aged Abraham and Sarah that they will have a son.

Being a gracious host is a primary requirement of Islam. The Qur’an 4. 36-37 reads:

“Be kind to parents.and near kins man, and to orphans, and to the needy, and to the neighbour who is of kin, and to the neighbour who is a stranger, and to the companion at your side, and to the traveller...Surely God loves not the proud and boastful such as are niggardly, and bid other men to be niggardly, and themselves conceal the bounty that God has given them.”

This welcoming of the stranger is deeply engrained in the Judeo-Christian tradition. The classic example of this is the parable of the “Good Samaritan” The story tells of a Jewish man who lay on the side of the road beaten, robbed and left to die. He is passed by a Jewish priest and temple official, who both ignore him. Then a Samaritan passes by, a despised enemy of the Israelites. He looks after the man and pays for his shelter at the inn. He welcomes the stranger.

Mother Teresa, an often vilified and dare I say mocked figure, took this teaching to heart and believed that in every suffering and needy person was something of God, she saw Jesus in human suffering. She and others like her saw it as their life task to offer hospitality to the stranger

The monastic tradition has cultivated the practise of caring for the stranger and the poor and needy. Hospitals began in such places. The word hospital comes from “hospitable”. The best example of this has to be the monastery of St. Benedict. Benedict created what has become known as “The Rule of Benedict”, which was a book of rules by which a monastery ought to live. Many monasteries today live by this rule, including some Buddhist ones. The foundation of the rule is listening, deep attentive listening. It begins, “listen carefully, my child, to the instructions...and attend to them with ear of your heart “.

To welcome someone into our lives we need to listen deeply. This is a concept which the Dalai Lama promotes in contemporary time. It is not some ancient practise lost in the annals of time, it is living and breathing, it is contemporary and it is most urgently needed in our time.

In my time at Altrincham and Urmston I have been warmly welcomed by the various faith traditions. I have certainly felt listened to. Inter-faith relations and respect for those who think about religion differently is healthy and strong here. Sadly this is not the case the world over. I suspect that this is why there is so much anti-religious feeling in 21st Century Britain.

Sadly not all people of faith are welcoming of all, whoever they are. Perhaps this is why so many people have rejected religion all together. How often do we hear “I’m spiritual not religious”?

I think many spiritually minded people reject religion because they see it as authoritarian, unbending, dangerous and not a source of loving compassion for your fellow man or woman. My experience of religion has been very different, both within my own Unitarian tradition and through my encounters with the other faiths here in Altrincham and Urmston. I consider myself to be both spiritual and religious. I am religious because I join with others on a spiritual odyssey seeking truth and meaning. My fellow travellers often do not hold the same beliefs and yet we are able to journey together in compassion, helping one another along the way. I am also spiritual because I do not seek authority over others and no one has authority over my conscience in matters of faith. The religion I practise is free and it is deeply spiritual.

The 16th Unitarian Francis David once proclaimed “We need not think alike, to love a like.”

I have found this to be true among the faith communities I have encountered during my short time as a minister. They have made me, the stranger, most welcome.