Sacred...in the flesh

I think I just met Jesus again.

I had just sat down across from one of our youth in my usual meeting space (a.k.a. Tim Horton’s) when a young man drove his chair over to our table.  He was probably in his early 20’s with a patchy but long beard.  His shoulder length hair fell into his face as his head tilted to one side.  His hands were curled. 

“Can you help me?”  he said.  He extended his hand towards me to reveal a black smudge on the crease where his thumb met his palm.  “I don’t know if its WD40 but I’d want to get it off.”  Then he asked me to take him to the bathroom.

Its not everyday someone asks me to take them to wash their hand, and I was a bit surprised. The restaurant had power assist doors at the main entrance, but not for the washrooms.

“Would you help me?” he had asked.

“Sure!” I said and I followed his lead. Inside I was struck again at how intimate this space is.  In a guy’s bathroom there are certain rules that apply and these usually include no eye contact and no talking. But he looked right into my eyes as he repeated himself, “I think its WD40. I got it getting off the van.”

He turned the water on, and with his other arm fixed to his side, moved the water around the smudge with his fingers.  “Can I put some soap on that for you?”  I asked.  He agreed.

Until now my mind had been in ten different places.  What example am I setting for the teenager I was there to meet with?  What does Leading with Care tell me to be careful of?  Should I lead this guy, or follow him?  Is my body language sending an affirming message?

All of that disappeared as I moved the soap around the hand of this stranger. The smudge first thinned, then disappeared.  I had a such keen sense of how “other,” holy, sacred this interchange was.

We chatted during the washing, and again afterwards. It was only after we said goodbye that I realized I didn’t even know his name.

The whole experience has haunted me.  There’s a passage in Matthew where Jesus says, “If you have done it unto the least of these, you have done it unto me.”  I’ve referred to that in countless conversations and sermons, but this was the first time I felt like I had met Jesus in the flesh.  This young man was authentic and vulnerable.  He moved past fears and turned his inability-to-move into an ability-to-connect. 

What could life be like if I followed this man’s example?  What if I simply asked for help when I needed it, and didn’t let my fears form barriers between me and another?   Perhaps his light would break through for them, and they might feel Jesus in the flesh too.

The Art of Listening

Have you ever noticed that words come easy, but listening not-so-much?  Anyone in a relationship knows this well.  Listening is an art; something we need to practice if we're going to enjoy rich relationships.  The same goes for our relationship with God.  Whether prayers or conversations with friends, the voices within us and around us clamour for our attention, making it hard to hear - to really hear - what someone else is saying.

During the weeks following Easter and before Pentecost, Burns Church, the congregation I serve with, is honing the art of listening.  Each week we go to the lectionary texts and ask what they might tell us about this skill.

Peter & John see a man walking on the beach.  Only after their nets are filled with fish do they realize its Jesus!  Two friends are journeying to Emmaus when they're joined by a third who explains that the grief of the past week had to happen. Then suddenly, he's gone, and they know its the Christ.  Listening is less about how the message is said, and more about expecting, anticipating, even straining to hear it.

Ahh, but I find myself getting so sidetracked by the voices.  Yes, there are voices in my head.  And all around me.  In my prayers, these argue for my attention.  The bombing in Boston, the relative's illness, the temper tantrum I threw.  These voices tell me things like, "The world has gone mad," "Life is only struggle," and "You'll never be good enough".   And so my prayers are limited to lamenting the circumstances, listing all the things God should do, and confessing my sins.

These aren't bad, they're just not enough.  One person talking doesn't lead to a deep and meaningful relationship.  How can we sift through the voices and listen for the whisper of the Almighty?  How can we experience God's words of hope, compassion and assurance?

Silence.  Reflection.  Attention. Humility.  These are some of the ways I've been thinking about.

Will I spend time silently listening after my words are spent?
Will I chew and reflect on what God says in the scripture and in those quiet listening times?
Will I notice where love and goodness are present in the world?
Will I accept that I don't have all the answers?

Ok, fair enough.  These aren't the easiest things to practise.  In a world filled with places to be and people to see, listening doesn't come naturally.  Its an art, and like all arts, it must be practised, tested, tweaked and tried.

If we will, I can imagine that other relationships will benefit too.  Whether with friends, partners or children, the joy of good relationships come to those who put the effort into honing the art of listening.