Listen and Join the Mission
Issue 036
OCTOBER 17, 2018
WRITTEN BY PATRICIA ORLANDO
Patricia Orlando is a recent Master of Divinity graduate from Asbury Theological Seminary in Orlando, Florida. She's married to her incredible husband, Michael. She has been participating in the house church plant, The Distribution Center, in Thornton Park and is currently launching ContemPlate in College Park.
Michael and I started reading Acts together this morning. I think it is interesting that Luke starts this book by recounting Jesus presenting himself to the apostles in multiple ways and settings to talk with them about the Kingdom of God. Interestingly, it was the Kingdom of God that was on Jesus’ lips and his first instruction, according to Luke, was to “wait for what the Father promised.” The Father’s promise?? They would receive baptism in the Holy Spirit. (1:4)
I imagine, much like my water baptism, a dunking of my entire being into the mysterious ethereal Holy Spirit Being. This baptism doesn’t symbolize washing away my sin but a taking into every cell of my being a powerful heavenly force. Like a castle with the drawbridge let down and gates opened wide, I receive an other worldly power that changes the rule of the castle and secures the premises for that power but not only does this power secure the premises; Jesus tells us that this power, which has now permeated the walls and halls, instructs and enables a going out as a witness to this change in Rule for the land. (1:8)There is a new King in the earth, I proclaim; a new King commands for God’s kingdom. What is there to do now? Listen and join the mission. Easy for you to say!
Listening, in Western culture, is a “Lost Art.” Our “give it to me now at the click of a mouse” culture has diminished our capacity for listening and paying attention. We don’t listen well. And because we don’t listen well we are impoverished human beings. Why? When we listen to another we gain understanding and we gain perspective outside of ourselves. Listening is a complex process;(LA43)it takes time and requires us to stop talking. It threatens to reveal our own hidden prejudices, assumptions and needs. We are vulnerable when we listen. No wonder it is a “lost art!” And yet, the Holy Spirit was sent, in part, to instruct us, therefore, we must recover this art. It is imperative to the Missio dei. God calls us to stop and open ourselves up to listen to the voice of the God of our lives. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live…Isaiah55:3
“Listen, so that you may live…” I recently drove to Kentucky to enter into a five-day silent retreat at the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani. I went there to quiet the fracas of competing allegiances and to hush rival voices screaming in silence within me. Driving to the Abbey, looking onto the expanse of the three thousand pristine acres of land and marveling at the huge medieval looking monastery, I felt like I was entering a sacred space. A hush of peace, a sweeping calm; I could feel the hundred years of 50 monks praying and singing the Psalter eight times a day. It’s true! The ground cries out what it witnesses. I couldn’t help thinking, what does my ground cry out in College Park, Florida?
“The Holy Spirit whispered; I could see my identity as the young girl being held up by the strong, solid arms of her Father whose torso was rooted in the very depths of the universe. A girl with her head held up and palms open signaling trust and surety. Undivided, whole, complete.”
I went to the Abbey to pray. I sought direction for my ministry/my life. Just having graduated from Seminary I admitted to myself I wasn’t sure the ordination track I was on was the right fit for God’s calling on my life. My days were split up by so many obligations that I felt exhausted and scattered. Expectations rent my time, focus and energy to the point I was living minute by minute, putting fires out and barely keeping up. I knew for certain the life track I was on was not a good fit.
I walked into the lobby of the Retreat center. Father Carlos greeted me. He oriented me to the Abbey and the Abbey’s schedule. Everything was very structured. Three meals a day served exactly for thirty minutes, a call to church eight times a day where we sang the Psalter, and the rest of the day I was free to walk the secure retreat grounds, saunter alone in the wildly alive forest, visit the extensive Thomas Merton library or stay in my room. All without talking.
I went to my room with intentionality in my heart. The room was sparse but thankfully had a desk with a reading lamp. I fully expected to spend most of my time reading scripture in meditative prayer. That is my go to space at home. Everyday I accept the Word of Scripture and ponder it in my heart. Filling and disciplining my mind helps me to enter into Holy unmediated communion with my God. That communion satiates my soul. I have found that sacred space of delight in the instruction of God. Ps. 1:2 But that wasn’t what happened at all. Not even close.
That first day I opened my journal, examined my soul, and wrote what I needed God to do in my heart and mind during my stay at Gethsamani. I then went for a walk in the gardens. When I ate, I ate with 25 other people, no sound. When I met someone on the trails, a smile, and no sound. That first day was uncomfortable except when the bells rang and everyone came, one by one gathering into the long, tall church to sing our Psalter with one voice. I went to bed. I didn’t think to open my bible.
The second day I became comfortable with the silence. I could look others in the eyes. It was as if our silence wrapped around the other rather than piercing with the greeting word we say. I slipped into the silence like one of those really soft comfy socks you get around Christmas time. I found myself being led by my torso. Oh, I know that sounds so weird and I hesitate to write it but that is the only way I know how to describe it. I was led to a statute in the garden, The Epiphany. I stood and listened. Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening. The Holy Spirit whispered; I could see my identity as the young girl being held up by the strong, solid arms of her Father whose torso was rooted in the very depths of the universe. A girl with her head held up and palms open signaling trust and surety. Undivided, whole, complete. I “heard” clearly. I knew who I was and I felt grounded. “The message of hope the contemplative offers you”, writes Thomas Merton, “is not that you need to find your way through the jungle of language and problems that today surround God: but that….God loves you, is present in you, lives in you, dwells in you, calls you, saves you, and offers you an understanding and light which are like nothing you ever found in books or heard in sermons.” (Hidden Ground of Love, 156)
I never opened my Bible while on the retreat, and I live daily with our sacred Scripture. God had something to teach me. I had heard about the power, but I have experienced it now. The castle is secure. I don’t have to worry about the next step of ministry or life. The Holy Spirit lives within me. If I listen I can trust my gut! It isn’t easy but it is simple. It’s time to listen and join the mission.