A spiritual hunger afflicts the land

 ‘‘The harvest is plentiful’ (Matt 9:37)

Matthew 9:35-10:23 (Year A: First Sunday after Trinity 18^th June 2017)

Recently while walking down O’Connell Street in Dublin, I noticed pairs of young people standing motionless at selected locations and with a cardboard sign on which ‘Free Listening’ was handwritten in large letters. After a question from me to the young people about where the catch was, I was told that this was no front for anyone (they claimed that they were neither charity chuggers, evangelists or political activists). It was part of a worldwide movement, I was informed, called Urban Confessional started by Benjamin Mathes here.

Some years ago I read the following (I can’t remember where I found it): 

‘All that is asked of me is rapt attention, here, now, to others. And I’ll find the good life.’

By the time you have finished reading this blog (if you read all of it) someone, somewhere in the world will have taken their own life.  Suicide is a difficult subject to discuss. Only the foolish or ignorant could rush into analyse the matter and come up with explanations for why. We have to leave the specifics of why in any given case to God. God, alone, knows. Rather than ply easy platitudes or sweeping judgements we would do well to look at, and listen to, the world around us. What do we notice? We hear and see people who are hungry – hungry for meaning, for identity, for purpose, for satisfaction, for joy, for love, for to be loved. A street corner preacher might try – honestly – to greatly simplify the matter by calling out to people to change and to submit to the Lord Jesus in complete trust and abandonment.

The matter is, and is not, so simple. 

There are people who undergo enormous sufferings due to physical ill-health, loss of job, loss of a relationship or other calamities. Then, there are people who seem to have all of the essentials of life, income, health and relationship and, yet, remain profoundly sad, empty and lonely. They might even follow very virtuous and religiously obedient lives.

There are no simple answers.

Those of us near to someone in such a condition of profound sadness or anxiety can only be present, available, listening and caring.  This can be difficult because we, naturally, seek to ‘fix the problem’ especially when it might concern someone very close to us.

What is that we are called to do in this short life of ours and corner of the world?

We are called, like the disciples around Jesus, to bring ‘good news’ (v. 35) and to be signs of a healing and loving presence in the world about us. This is no more confined to those who are ordained or specially commissioned than to professionals trained to teach or heal or care for. 

There is a famine in the land and, at the same time, there are too many people who are enriched. Too many people are rich with gifts, talents and capacities that they scarcely know they have but – tragically – are never brought to full use or recognition.  People who have the gift of listening – deeply, compassionately, actively and honestly – are blessed with something that no mental health budget or spiritual ministry could buy.  At the same time, there are millions of people alive today who hunger to be listened to and understood at some level.  Too many people are spiritually starving – ‘harassed and helpless’ (v36) not only because caring leaders seem to be absent or in hiding but, because, even with ‘shepherds’ people are under constant pressure in a fast-moving society where instant gratification, status likes and personal ambitions seem to drive a lot of human behaviour leaving people unsatisfied: enough is never enough.

We are called to be apostles of listening in a broken and hungry world. But, we also need to be listened to by wise and gifted soul-friends (anam-chairde). When one feels really listened to it is a marvellous experience and can propel us to embrace a ministry of listening in our own small ways from the kitchen to bus stop to the corridor in a workplace to a walk in the park.

Those who turn up in church…

Occasionally, spiritually hungry people turn up at a church somewhere but never come back. Maybe it is nobody’s fault that this happens. However, I wonder if, sometimes, this could be due to a lack of nourishment experienced in our gatherings, liturgies and times of collective action? If people do not feel welcomed, cared for, included and even empowered to take an active part in a community, why come back?  If people feel that they are outsiders, why persist? If people feel that they are just another potential recruit of some use to a corporate church structure, why bother? If people feel that their story is not important and there is no place in which to tell it, why go back a second or even a third time?

I am not in the least surprised that most of our churches are emptying out and young people typically leave regular attendance or participation once they hit mid-teens (if they ever were brought in the first place). I am not in the least surprised to see more and more young families disengaged from active church, congregation or parish life because there is little to attract or motivate them. Church is seen, by many, as something for ‘them’ – the folks on the inside who do all the running around, the pilgrimages and usual churchey things done by the same people all the time until they literally drop dead. (Of course, there are huge numbers of sincere, gentle and Christ-like volunteers who give generously of their time and talents to make church possible for many others). However, let’s be honest: the flame has not been caught by most or many young people in Ireland and the prospects of Christian churches remaining more and more marginal to the mainstream of civil society in the coming decades are very real.

Will we listen?

Would we listen again to a hungry world? Would we take the risk of enabling young people to have a voice again in our gatherings? Would we go into a quiet place on our own and listen – really listen – to our own heart?