Just Pay Attention

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Lent I, Year A
March 1, 2020
The Rev. John Taliaferro Thomas
 
I was not prepared for the beauty of the place.  Having spent three days in a hotel ballroom attending a conference, I was glad to get outside and see a part of California I had never visited.  I had been told about a Holy Cross Monastery that took in guests, and I planned to tack a few days onto my trip to visit and retreat.  As I followed the map, I found that I was driving up and up the hills outside of Santa Barbara.  And when I arrived at the monastery, I discovered that it had been an estate belonging to the Huntington family whose fortune was vast.  As it turned out, on of the sons of the railroad, mining, and oil baron had become a monk and procured the place for his order.  I had not done my research, only following the advice of a good friend, so what I expected to be spartan was far from it – at least at first.
 
A robed brother, Robert, met me at the door, showed me to a sparse room.  He told me that silence would be observed from evening prayer through to lunch the following day, and that there was not cost for me to be there, but I would have a work to do all morning in exchange for my room and board.  Spiritual direction was available in the afternoons when we could speak.  Other than that, we worshiped in the chapel five times a day.  My room had two books: a Bible and the Rule of Benedict.
 
Now, I am a priest of the prayer saying and Bible studying ilk, but I am also verbal and curious about people and more than a little fidgety by nature.  I was to be in silence for half the day?   I was to work with no conversation or verbal direction?  This is not exactly a hardship, but for me a neophyte to this kind of strict observance, I had no idea what I would do, or how I would do with all of this.  My normal mode was multi-tasking, working through a busy schedule, accomplishing tasks, and talking with people for most of the day.
 
After I unpacked, I met my spiritual director, Brother Clement, and told him of my anxiety, seeking a plan and goals for my retreat.  Instead, he asked me about my life, what burdens I was carrying, and how God might be speaking to me in this time of my life.  It was a great conversation.  He was a great listener.  But there was no plan, no list of readings, no spiritual exercises to work.  I had all this time.  “What do I do now,” I asked?  “Just pay attention,” he said.  And then he left the room.
 
I fidgeted for an hour and looked around.  Finally, it was time dinner: a simple buffet.  I was excited to meet the brothers and the others that were on retreat.  The food was hearty, fresh, and delicious looking.  In took my place in the middle of a table of eight.  But when I sat down, there were no introductions or conversations.  Instead, one brother began reading from a book of Benedictine devotions, something about waiting on God.  When we were done, they cleared the table, did the dishes and it was time for Evening Prayer.  They sang beautifully and slowly… and then we were in silence.  Wait, I thought, who are these people?  Why are they here?  What will I be doing in the morning? I fidgeted for an entire evening, read from the rule of Benedict, and began to understand, a little.
 
I was up early for prayers, then to breakfast, where we remained in silence.  I made some granola and fruit and when I looked up, yogurt and milk and a spoon were in front of me.  I poured some coffee from the carafe and when I finished, cream and sweetener bowl were in front of me.  I ate quickly, eager to get on with the morning, but everyone else ate slowly.  I was looking at my food, but the rest of them were looking up and around, anticipating how they would help one another.  When I was done, I sat and waited and waited while all were served and had eaten.  A bell rang, we cleaned up, and then went to sing Morning Prayer.  When that was over a brother motioned for me to follow and we went into a garden.   He took a rake, and gave me a rake, and he started cleaning a bed for spring planting.  I watched and then went to another bed and did what he was doing, for hours.
 
Finally, we broke to bathe and have noon prayers, then lunch.  Finally, I could speak.  Finally, I could find out who all of these people were and what they were doing here.  Brother Clement sat next to me. “Before you speak,” he said, “remember just to pay attention. That is the only reason you are here.  That is the only intention for your time here.  Just pay attention.”  I never did meet the others or talk much with anyone except Clement.  I guess they were all just paying attention too.
 
I never begin a season of reflection without thinking about Clement’s direction.  He explained that it came from centuries of contemplative theology and practice.  He saw right through me and cut to the simplest and most basic direction.  I did not have to know everything.  I did not have to relate to everyone.  I did not have to establish my place in their order.  Clement told me to be a human being rather than a human doing.  I still struggle with that.  I know I am not alone.
 
We embark on a Lenten season together, hearing our annual recounting of Jesus time in the wilderness.  We hear of the devil tempting him with pleasure and comfort, status and prestige, and finally with power and absolute dominion.  And Jesus passes on all of the worldly posturing and functioning in favor of being a vessel of servant leadership.  This is not a lesson on how to avoid or deny temptation.  As the old country song says “Lead me not into temptation, I can get there by myself.”  Instead this is a window into how radically different God’s priorities are than the those we might embrace. 
 
As Jesus let’s all of that go, the invitation for us is not to contort ourselves in complex disciplines or give up so much that we will win the holiness contest.  Lent is a chance for us to peel away the layers of aspiration and activity that use as a mask to project purpose or importance.  Lent is a reflective season for us to see ourselves as human beings rather than human doings, so when do what do, we act thoughtfully and with non-reactive intention.
 
The good news for us is that we are here.  We were able to make it to this space this week.  We are taking this time and this moment the stop the spinning world of confused priorities and frenetic activity to be with Jesus.  The best direction I ever got was not an action plan, a series of spiritual exercises, or a moral makeover.  It was the simple direction: “Just pay attention.”