Episodes
Sunday Mar 08, 2015
Can You Hear Me Now?
Sunday Mar 08, 2015
Sunday Mar 08, 2015
Can You Hear Me Now?
A homily preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, March 8, 2015, the third Sunday in Lent.
Text: Genesis 37:2-24 (selected verses)
“Can you hear me now?” As we explore the lost connections in our lives during this Lenten season, this now-familiar question from our pop-cultural lexicon calls to mind all the things that get in the way of hearing one another. The list is long: different languages, cultural perspectives, stress, assumptions and expectations, projection, prejudice, politics, “trigger” words, and all our own “baggage”—our histories, narcissism, pain, fears. So much can get in the way of truly hearing another person. If we’re not careful, not only our ability to communicate, but also our most basic connection as human beings can be lost. Martin Buber, the late, great, Jewish philosopher and theologian, described the goal of human relationship as “I-Thou”—that is, as human beings we are created to relate to others as a “thou” as opposed to an “it.” But, oh! the temptation to whittle people into an “it,” into a label, a political party, a role, an obstacle, a threat. A “thug” isn’t a “thou.” “The enemy” isn’t a “thou.” A “thou” has a story, a history, a context, a name. There’s a reason that every brutal, conquering, torturing force throughout history has stripped people of their names—because a person’s name shimmers with “thou-ness,” with dignity and sacred worth. In his remarks in Selma yesterday commemorating the 50th anniversary of Bloody Sunday, President Obama said of the marchers, “…Many in power condemned rather than praised them. Back then, they were called Communists, half-breeds, outside agitators, sexual and moral degenerates, and worse – everything but the name their parents gave them.”[i] Beating or tear-gassing a “degenerate” is different than cracking the skull of a brother named John Lewis. To replace human beings’ names with a number or the name of a slave master or with a prejudicial label is one way that we human beings throughout history have turned sisters and brothers into mute things, into property, into something disposable.
That is part of the tragedy of the story we heard today from Genesis. Joseph, hated by his brothers, is stripped and thrown away. The brothers’ hatred was fueled by the fact that Joseph was a tattle-tale, “giving a bad report” of them to their father, that Joseph not only had but shared dreams of ruling over his brothers, and—perhaps most significantly—that Joseph was their father’s favorite. Verse 4 of our text says it all: “But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.” Communication was completely broken down. And nowhere in the story do the brothers call Joseph by his name. As they see him approaching he is not their brother Joseph, a son of their own father. Rather, he is “this dreamer,” referring to that which threatens them, that which they don’t understand. From the time the brothers see Joseph approaching, we never hear his voice again in this story. He is not a “thou” but rather an object of hatred and jealousy, an obstacle to their receiving more of their father’s love. And so they conspire and then discard Joseph as though he were no more than the morning’s trash.
While this is a rather stark example, it serves as reminder of what can happen when we allow the things between us and someone else to keep us from hearing them, from seeing them as a “thou,” as a human being with a name and a story. This can happen even in our closest relationships. We can struggle to see and be seen to hear and be heard. Familiarity and the everyday challenges of life can keep us from being attentive to the reality of what is really going on with our child, our partner, our parent, our friend. Without even realizing it, we can begin to relate to those we love best as obstacles or interruptions, as personal shoppers or housecleaners, as just another thing to have to manage or deal with in a life cluttered with things we have to manage. We don’t mean to do this, but it can happen.
Blogger Rachel Macy Stafford catches herself speaking her daughter’s name in “managerial” ways—“Don’t forget your lunch money, Natalie.” “Bedtime, Natalie,” but forgetting to speak Natalie’s name in “soul-building” ways: “I love being with you, Natalie.” “Are you feeling okay about tomorrow’s test, Natalie?” Think about what it is like to hear someone speak your name in a context of friendship, care, kindness, and love. To speak another’s name is to honor them in their “thou-ness”—their particularity, their story, their dignity, their sacred worth. To speak someone’s name in a “soul-building” way is to let them know that you see them and that they matter. Over the years I have been struck by folks’ reaction to being called by name. Whether it is in the grocery store or at church, in the context of a hard conversation or when sharing words of praise, when our name is spoken we perk up and a spark of connection happens with the one who has said it. Rachel Macy Stafford ends her reflection by suggesting that speaking another’s name is “the most simple, yet most powerful ingredient for meaningful connection in our fast-paced, media-saturated, often impersonal and superficial lives.” She suggests that we “Take a moment to remember the time, thought, and care that went into choosing the name of the person standing before you and then say it—say it as if it’s the most beautiful word that ever came from your lips. This one simple action holds the power to strengthen weak connections … make lowly shoulders rise … let someone know he is not forgotten.”[ii]
As you encounter the people who cross your path, try to remember that each and every one has a name and a story and is asking in some way: “Can you hear me now? Do you see me? Do I matter? Am I worthy of love?” There are many things in the world that make it difficult to hear one another. But speaking a person’s name with love and care opens a door, creates a little space for the possibility of deeper connection, and is a profound affirmation that there are no “disposable” people, that we are all worthy of love, all daughters and sons of a God who always hears us and knows each one of us by name.
[i] Barack Obama, accessed on March 8, 2015, http://time.com/3736357/barack-obama-selma-speech-transcript/
[ii] Rachel Macy Stafford, “One Word That Can Bring Us Back to What Matters,” at “Hands Free Mama” blog found on March 7, 2015 at http://www.handsfreemama.com/2015/01/20/one-word-that-can-bring-us-back-to-what-matters/#more-6292.
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