Listening In-between

Listening In-between

(some reflections from a quiet afternoon)

Life is complicated.  Anyone who tells you otherwise is not giving you the whole story.

On the one hand, there are moments when, like Peter, James and John on the Mount of Transfiguration with Jesus, we become fully awake and glimpse of bit of the reality that there is a larger story going on than simply our own seemingly individual one.  In the 9th chapter of his gospel, Luke tells us that Jesus had invited these three disciples to go with Him up onto a mountain to spend some time in prayer (Luke 9:28 ff).  The disciples are initially described as somewhat sleepy, that state in which we are present and perhaps even active, but not fully aware or engaged.  But whatever their state of mind may have been, Luke says that as they prayed, things changed.  In a moment of insight and clarity, they literally saw things in a light they never had before.  It was an experience they did not want to let go of, as is evidenced by Peter's suggestion that they somehow find a way to capture and prolong what they were experiencing.

While we probably don't know all that took place there, at least part of what they saw was Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah about what was He was about to go through in Jerusalem, and perhaps how this would bring into focus and fulfill all that Moses and Elijah (the law and the prophets) had been about.  In the glory of that moment the great stories that Moses and Elijah represented were seen in conversation with, and intertwined with, each other as a part of the one huge amazing story that was about to reach a climax.  Even if the disciples did not understand all of the details, this must have been one of those moments when you sense you have at least glimpsed  enough to sense that all the important pieces in life have fallen into place.  No wonder that Peter wanted to preserve and cling to that moment as long as possible!  Everything was now as it should be.

The glory of the experience, however, does not cooperate with Peter's desire.  While he is still speaking, they are enveloped in a cloud, and as the vision fades God's voice speaks, "This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to Him."  As the heightened experience fades, they find that they are simply left with Jesus.  

The story however, does not end here.  The next day, as they return from their time on the mountain they are met by a large crowd, concerned and frustrated because, in contrast to the one on the mountain, the story they had been glimpsing for the past day or so was not one of glory in which all the pieces had fallen into place.  A very different story was playing out in the valley.  This was not one of pieces coming together in wholeness, but one of a boy and his family being torn apart by destructive forces - in the midst of which, the disciples had been unable to bring relief.  Everything was not as it should be, and even those who most wanted to help seemed powerless in the face of it.

While it is not clear to me exactly who or what Jesus is addressing when He expresses His exasperation over the persistence of the destructiveness that was at work in the boy's life ("O unbelieving and perverse generation . . . how long shall I stay with you and put up with you?" vs.41), what is perhaps the most significant is the last phrase ("bring your son here").   

The boy is brought to Jesus, the evil is rebuked in His presence, and the boy is given back to his father.  While the story is clear about what God's ultimate desire is for the boy (as is evidenced by Jesus' healing him), it also leaves us with the troubling realization that those who follow Jesus are not always as successful as they and others hope they will be.  Even though you could argue that some form of healing can always take place, not all aspects of what is broken always gets fixed the way we wish it would.

When we look at these too scenes together, what surfaces for me is the realization that, for  myself, and most people I know, life is lived mostly on the road between the mountain and the valley.

On the one hand, there are moments, often in the context of those times when we have intentionally withdrawn for a while for worship, reflection and prayer, in which things come into focus for us with rich and rewarding ways.  Whether or not God shows up in the glorious and unexpected ways as He did on the mount of transfiguration, these are times when we are intentional about paying attention to God's reminder that we simply need to focus on listening to Jesus.  These are not times in which we try to manufacture "mountain top experiences," but ones in which we focus on where the real glory is found - in simply being with, and being attentive to, Jesus.  These are the moments when we allow our stories to be in conversation with the larger Story of which they are a part - and to ensure that the conversation continues when we are not on the mountain.  

But still, there is the other end of he road . . . those places where the stories we encounter or find ourselves caught up in are not so renewing.  Stories where other more destructive forces are also at work.  And even though we should and do oppose them in the name of Jesus, as was the case with the disciples, we don't always get the results that we desire. 

What we see as we read these two scenes together, is the reality of what life looks like in a world where the Kingdom that Jesus spoke of has both already arrived, and yet has not yet been fully realized.  We live in that space in between - what theologians refer to as "the already and the not yet" - a place where things can be both glorious and exasperating.  

Yet, despite the way that destructive forces and impulses continue to cling, we are invited to continue to live out the Story told on the mountain, knowing that it is our story, and everyone else's story as well.  What matters the most is not the light show on the mountain when all is crystal clear, or the low moments in the valley when we feel so ineffective and powerless (and all we can do is simply point people to Jesus whatever the outcome might be),  but our willingness to listen carefully and responsively not so much to the voice from the crowd, but to the voice from the cloud.  

"This is my Son, Whom I have chosen; listen to Him."

Being faithful to the Story matters.

Ralph Revisited

Ralph Revisited

Vacations give us opportunities to break out of the familiar routines and rhythms that can so dominate our lives, and enjoy less rushed and more relaxed patterns . . . altering just a bit the way we see and approach how we go about our days. We often come back feeling more rested, renewed, and perhaps (at least momentarily) wiser about the need to incorporate some of those more restful patterns into our lives once vacation is over. It's amazing how different things can look with a change in perspective. (The kind of change in perspective that vacations can bring is a topic worth pursuing all on its own).

It was while I was thinking about this (having just returned from a restful, but way too short, vacation) that I found myself in a brief conversation with a friend who had been thinking about what I had shared in a post on this blog back in June (entitled "Epitaphs & Blind Spots") about Ralph Ledbetter. Recalling how I had talked about how the placement of his tombstone seemed to have reflected a deep seated prejudice that even many years after the Civil War was over still excluded him from the circle (if this does not sound familiar to you, you may need to re-read the old post in order for the rest of this to make sense). My friend, however, suggested that perhaps there was another way to look at what had happened (this from the perspective of someone who had grown up in that part of the country).

• What if, he suggested, the designation of "Slave" on his tombstone was not there to somehow designate him as less worthy than the other Confederate officers buried in that graveyard, but rather to draw attention to the significance and uniqueness of his dedication and sacrifice?
  
• What if placing his grave marker outside of the circle was not a matter of excluding him from the circle of others, but to highlight his uniqueness in such a way that his contribution would not be lost sight of. Perhaps the placement was so that the attention of others would be drawn to it?
  
• What if it was not a matter of exclusion, but one of setting apart in honor?

The thought had never occurred to me. Whichever of these two scenarios you may find the more persuasive, what struck me was how simply changing the perspective from which this was seen could have such a powerful impact on how it was understood.

Of course, neither one of us happen to know any of the other details of Ralph Ledbetter's story (although now I am more curious than ever), and both of us realize that we made certain assumptions based on our own experiences and understandings of the south and what we saw in this graveyard. But perhaps just as important as determining which interpretation of the data is closer to the truth (perhaps even more important) is the recognition of how much the assumptions we brought with us influenced and shaped the way we understood what we were seeing.

(This, by the way, in case you were wondering, was a friendly conversation), but also one which left me with a few things too ponder further . . . things like:

• The Power of Location. The realization that "where" we are (in much more than a geographical sense) impacts what we see and how we understand. This is not a new or original idea, but my awareness of it was heightened just a little bit more.

• The Sacrifice of Understanding. I wonder to what extent many of our attempts to establish who is right (even when the points we are trying to make, defend or promote are good ones) are carried out at the expense of genuinely understanding those who see things differently than we do?

• The Relational Implications. Perhaps one of the least appreciated reasons that relationships between people (and groups of people as small as families and as large as countries) remain tense, conflicted, hostile or broken may have far less to do with failing to recognize who is right and who is wrong, and far more to do with failures in the areas of graciousness and humility. It is here that our blind spots can be the largest, and our resistance to recognizing the significance of our location (or even admitting that we have one) so deeply ingrained. And yet, when we consider the kind of healing that could happen if we were willing to live in a greater awareness of our own agendas or presuppositions (which might very well be either unconscious, untested, or both) and a willingness to genuinely consider how things might look from the perspectives of others, our own resistance to do this is all the more bewildering. It brings to mind Jesus' lament, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed together your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing! [Luke 13:34 (NIV)]

Perhaps one way to more fully understand Ralph Ledbetter's story and it's implications would begin with the realization that there are many more stories that need to be heard. Not just the stories of those who knew Ralph, or those who decided on the inscription and the placement of the marker, but also the countless other stories that surrounded his and help to shape the various ways we see and understand. Of course this does not ensure that we will always agree, or that we may not still need to take strong stands for what we believe to be true. But perhaps what is does mean is that, while it may not be entirely possible to fully identify all of our presuppositions or the ways they have shaped or influenced our perceptions, our willingness to at least be aware of their significance might go a long way towards making us more gracious and humble listeners. And perhaps in the process, it might lead us toward greater understanding and healing.

Perhaps the implications of Ralph's story, and our attempts to make sense of it, stretch further that I, or for that matter he, ever would have guessed!