Being present and listening. September 6, 2020 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Matthew 18:15-20

So I just read the Gospel to you, but did you listen to it? If you did, then you heard the verb which ties it all together: If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile or a tax collector.

 Listen. We understandably focus on what Jesus says but it’s remarkable how much Jesus listens in the Gospel stories. He hears the father pleading for his epileptic son, he hears the mother begging him to heal her possessed daughter, he hears the cries of Bartimaeus the blind beggar. Jesus listens. He will even ask, “What do you want me to do for you?” when the answer seems painfully obvious because he wants to hear people. And people want to be heard.

 Listen. There are few things more important to a healthy relationship and a wholesome community than the capacity to listen. And there are few things that are harder to do well. We all know what it’s like to try to talk to someone as they scroll through their phone or look past us to something or someone else. They’re letting us speak, but they’re not listening. And all of us have done that to others as well. But the problem is magnified when there is a conflict of any sort. Then our failure to listen can be especially destructive. I remember the first time — the first of many — that someone didn’t like my sermon, I was a seminary intern at St. John’s in the Village in New York City. One Sunday after I had preached, a man came up to me and with great civility said that he had a bone to pick with me about that sermon. Well, I instantly tensed up and got super defensive. I didn’t listen to him at all: I fussed and argued, and behaved like a real ass. Later that day, after I had lowered my defenses and stopped fuming, I called him and apologized. I can’t even tell you exactly what it was all about, because I didn’t really listen: I was too busy fortifying my fragile ego. Apart from apologizing, it’s safe to say I did nothing to build up the church that day.

I don’t need to point out that in our polarized society, we are not very good at listening. And when people are not listened to, the results are always bad. They turn away in resentment and hatred, or they yell louder, hold demonstrations, stage rallies, light fires, burn buildings. When people are suffering, they will do what it takes to be heard. We so easily shout at each other and shout past each other. This Gospel passage is ancient wisdom that is oh so contemporary: the key to conflict resolution — in a friendship, a marriage, a church, a society — is good communication. People need to listen.

And that begins with us. Parishioners still sometimes get unhappy with me or my sermons, but I remember that seminary fiasco and I always try to listen and hear them. It’s crucial that each of us practices listening to other people, especially when we disagree with them or when their experience is different than ours. To do so, to devote time and energy being present to someone that way, is a genuine act of love: not sentimental love, but real, Christ-like agape. And if it’s true that not listening can hurt, it’s also true that listening well can heal. Early in my ordained ministry, I had a difficult encounter with a parishioner. Right before worship began one Sunday, he came up to me, furious. I had not visited his wife in the hospital; there had been a miscommunication, but he didn't know that. He just knew I had not been there when he needed me. And that morning he was loaded for bear and ripped into me. But by sheer grace, I didn’t get defensive and fight with him. Instead I listened and heard his pain: his wife of over 50 years was dying and in distress; his life was imploding. And rather than trying to justify myself or make myself look good, I just said, “I hear you and I am so sorry that happened. I will visit her today.” And I could see his whole body just relax. And our relationship, which had always been a bit strained, got better from that moment.

 Jesus says that what we loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Listening won’t automatically solve all our problems, and we won’t always come to agreement, but loving other people that way is powerful because it sets loose so much positive energy, just as the coming together of atomic nuclei in nuclear fusion releases tremendous power and shines out as the light of the sun. When we come together with others by being present to them and listening to them, divine light shines and we get a glimpse of heaven. And just as importantly, we give those others a glimpse of heaven as well.