2^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (B); 1-17-2021

1 Sam 3:3-10, 19.  Ps 42.  1 Cor 6:13-15, 17-20.  Jn 1:35-43

Deacon Jim McFadden

            The spiritual writer and poet John O’Donohue once wrote, “When you listen with your soul, you come into rhythm and unity with the music of the universe” (Anam Cara—Spiritual Wisdom of the Celtic World).  This quote is a good way to frame our first reading from the 1^st Book of Samuel.

            We hear in the opening line that the word of the Lord was seemingly  not happening: “a revelation of the Lord was uncommon” (1 Sam 3:1).  For a generation, the people knew only the silence of God.  They spoke, gave praise,  pleaded, petitioned, and lamented—and, nothing came back.  Until one night a voice startled Samuel.  He thought it was Eli, a high priest of Shiloh, whom he thought was in need of help.  Eli may have wondered to himself that this may be the night when the Lord breaks his silence and returns to Israel with a word of guidance.  “If he calls you again,” Eli told Samuel, “you shall say, ‘Speak Lord, for your servant is listening” (v. 9).  Sometimes God speaks to us, but most often we don’t listen to what Simon and Garfunkle once described as “the sounds of silence.”

            CBS correspondent and 60 Minute host Dan Rather once asked St. Mother Theresa of Calcutta about her devotional life.  “What is it that you say to God when you pray?”  She answered, “I don’t say anything; I just listen.”  Perhaps a bit perplexed, Rather followed up: “What is it that God says to you during prayer?”  Mother Theresa thought for a moment and said, “(God) doesn’t say anything.  (God) just listens.”  Theresa and God, sitting together, both quiet, and listening to the silence.

            Can we be still in the silence?  Do we get restless wondering whether God is there, that’s He’s paying attention, that he really cares?  In a letter to her spiritual director, Theresa confessed her doubts regarding God’s presence: “In my soul I feel just  that terrible pain of loss…of God not being God.”  She added, “If I ever become a saint, I will surely be one of ‘darkness.’”

            Prayer is patience in the darkness of the night, listening for a voice.  The question is: do we want to listen? If we “listen with our soul”, we have to direct our hearts towards God if we are going to receive his Word.  We can’t make it happen, but we trust the subtle movement of his Spirit will do the rest. 

            Prayer is not something we can force.  If we sense any movement to rest in God’s presence, that nudge is coming from God who is taking the initiative .  What we bring to the invitation is to create a sacred space, minimize the distractions, and remain alert that we are in the presence of God.  Prayer is God’s gift to us and if we show up, he will always take us by surprise, which is, after all, what gifts are supposed to do.

            How may we open ourselves to his presence?  We do what Samuel did: we listen.  We ask for the grace to listen with our full attention.  Perhaps we get started with lectio divina, the sacred reading of Scripture, which can be a point of departure as God speaks to us directly.  After we’ve mused on the passage, seeking understanding and applying the passaage to our lives, we have a conversation with God as to what He’s given us.  Following this, we rest in the silence being content to remain in his presence without words or images.  Being still  like this doesn’t come naturally, especially in our super-charged, 5G, frenetic world where we go from one distraction to another. 

            As the Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner once said, “We’re all meant to be mystics; if we don’t become one, we’ll destroy ourselves.”  Prayer eventually moves towards stillness, which we see this in our Blessed Mother, who continually pondered the things that we’re happening in her encounter with her Son.  As we go into the silence, we move into the currents of our hearts.  Here we can experience what we are really feeling, what is stirring within us, and where these feelings and movements are coming from.  And, it is precisely in these deep currents that I believe God speaks to us, revealing our innermost desires and fears to us, inviting us to reach towards our truest desires of communion and fellowship, surrendering our fears and hurts in the process.

            Listening to God is basically an act of surrender.  To do that, we have to move from our self-referential world where we are in control and our life is about us.  Rather, when we return to the Quiet, we are acknowledging that all of our surface thoughts and preoccupations, all our plans and agendas, can be obstacles for us to meet God who dwells within the farthest reaches of our soul.  Prayer is an act of surrender, where God is the Center of our lives and we rest in his presence keeping our gaze on him.  We have to let go of being in control if we’re going to listen to God. 

            When we surrender, we have to be prepared to take risks because God is going to make suggestions as to how we should live our lives.  To do so is an act of faith because we’re saying that God’s  Word is true, that he keeps his promises, and that he is trustworthy.  We trust that he will pour himself into the silence and fill us with his Spirit. 

            “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”  We will do what Blessed Mary said to the attendants at the Wedding Feast of Cana: “Do whatever he tells you to do.”  That’s the risk, that’s the cost, that’s the adventure of the inner journey into the mystery of God  where we “…come into rhythm and unity with the music of the universe.”  Amen.