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Posted: February 27th, 2007 at 1:11am By: Janet Conner
Do we believe that God is a giant hit man? This is not a stupid question. Based on the way we pray, it certainly looks like many of us think God is at our beck and call to get other people to change.
I had a strange experience of this phenomenon in the last place I expected — a therapist's office. After I told my husband I wanted a divorce, he begged me to go to counseling with him. I had pleaded with him for a decade to get help, so although the invitation came a couple years too late, I agreed to go. Counseling wasn't the only new thing in his life. He had also suddenly found religion and was attending services at a Christian church several times a week. The church had recommended the therapist. I wasn't sure how "Christian therapy" would be different from regular therapy, but the counselor was certified and my husband was convinced this guy could help, and I was willing to support anything that would help us through this transition.
At the first appointment, the therapist opened the session with a prayer. Something about being open to divine guidance. This, I thought, was a good thing. I am a big fan of prayer. And an even bigger fan of divine guidance. So, I was perfectly OK with the prayer. And the meeting ended with a prayer. In between prayers the hour felt like a pretty normal therapy session. The therapist invited me to come again. I agreed.
At the second session, we bowed our heads and the therapist began to pray.
"Heavenly father, we ask you to touch Janet's heart and get her to change her mind ... "
My head snapped up.
"Whoa. Whoa. Wait a minute."
Everyone looked at me.
"Do not ask God to get me to change my mind. Let me get something perfectly clear. There is no power on heaven or earth that is going to change my mind about getting a divorce. I AM getting a divorce."
Well, that kinda ended that prayer. And tolled the death knell for those therapy sessions. Turns out we had two different goals for therapy. Theirs was to prevent the divorce. Mine was to help us get through it. But of far greater significance, we also had two hugely different views of prayer. They clearly thought God was their hit man and they could send him on a "change her mind" mission.
If God is in the business of answering people's requests to "make him come back to me" or "get her to stop cheating" or "get him to see that I'm the best thing that ever happened to him" or any other variation on that theme, then we haven't evolved our concept of God much beyond that of our ancestors in ancient Greece. But if God is not a hit man, what exactly does God do? This is a rich, complex question. One I've been pondering for years.
Recently I found two answers. The first is in "Opening Up" by James Pennebaker, the psychologist at the University of Texas who conducted the seminal research on the power of writing to heal the body and the mind. Buried in the footnotes on Page 212, he presents an interesting dilemma.
"Ideally, if a person can find an all-accepting listener, talking to that person may be better than writing. The trick will be to find that listener."
And what a trick that is. Human listeners, as we have all experienced, are not perfect listeners. They bring their problems, their emotions, their solutions, their stories and their needs to the task of listening, and even with the best of intentions they can feel the urge to control, fix, maneuver or even scold.
When I read that phrase, "all-accepting listener," I stopped and stared at it. Of course. Why hadn't I thought of it? The all-accepting listener. That's the single best description of God I've ever heard. And it fits so nicely with all the other "All" words: All-knowing, All-powerful, All-present. I learned the other All words in grade school, but I never heard any priest or nun call God the "All-accepting Listener."
If there was any doubt in my mind about God's role as the perfect listener, it was swept away last Sunday. I was rereading "Siddhartha" by Herman Hesse. I read "Siddhartha" in my 20s, when everyone reads it. My son, who is 17, got it for Christmas. When I saw the cover, I smiled. I had a vague warm feeling about the book, but couldn't remember anything about it, except that I had liked it very much. So I asked my son if I could read it.
Siddhartha is a young Brahmin who breaks away from his family's spiritual tradition and sets out to find his own path in life. But no matter what he tries, nothing completely satisfies him. Eventually he despairs and comes full circle back to the river where his journey began. The ferryman, a silent older man, invites him to his hut for the night. Siddhartha unburdens his heart to the ferryman and the ferryman listens to his story long into the night. In a paragraph of pure poetry, Hesse describes the ferryman's ability to listen.
"The ferryman listened very attentively. Listening, he absorbed everything, origin and childhood, all the learning, all the seeking, all joy, all woe. One of the ferryman's greatest virtues was that he knew how to listen like few other people. Without a word, the speaker felt that the ferryman took in his words, silent, open, waiting, missing none, impatient for none, neither praising nor blaming, but only listening. Siddhartha felt what happiness it is to unburden himself to such a listener, to sink his own life into this listener's heart, his own seeking, his own suffering."
There, in a novel written in 1922, is the most beautiful portrayal of God at work, listening fully, completely and perfectly. If you have any doubt, substitute the word "God" for "the ferryman":
God listens very attentively. Listening, God absorbs everything, origin and childhood, all the learning, all the seeking, all joy, all woe. One of God's greatest virtues is that God knows how to listen. Without a word, you feel that God is taking in your words, silent, open, waiting, missing none, impatient for none, neither praising nor blaming, but only listening. And you feel what happiness it is to unburden yourself to such a listener, to sink your own life into this listener's heart.
What happiness indeed. Dr. Pennebaker is right. We all seek the all-accepting listener. And the truth is the perfect listener awaits us every moment of every day. We have only to ask to be heard.
(Next week: Who is listening?)
— — —
Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is the author of the Spiritual Geography series and is currently writing "Dear God: The Conversation That Changes Everything." The Spiritual Geography books are available through Amazon or Spiritual Geography. Reach Janet at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}.© copyright 2007 by Janet Conner
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Do we believe that God is a giant hit man? This is not a stupid question. Based on the way we pray, it certainly looks like many of us think God is at our beck and call to get other people to change.
I had a strange experience of this phenomenon in the last place I expected — a therapist's office. After I told my husband I wanted a divorce, he begged me to go to counseling with him. I had pleaded with him for a decade to get help, so although the invitation came a couple years too late, I agreed to go. Counseling wasn't the only new thing in his life. He had also suddenly found religion and was attending services at a Christian church several times a week. The church had recommended the therapist. I wasn't sure how "Christian therapy" would be different from regular therapy, but the counselor was certified and my husband was convinced this guy could help, and I was willing to support anything that would help us through this transition.
At the first appointment, the therapist opened the session with a prayer. Something about being open to divine guidance. This, I thought, was a good thing. I am a big fan of prayer. And an even bigger fan of divine guidance. So, I was perfectly OK with the prayer. And the meeting ended with a prayer. In between prayers the hour felt like a pretty normal therapy session. The therapist invited me to come again. I agreed.
At the second session, we bowed our heads and the therapist began to pray.
"Heavenly father, we ask you to touch Janet's heart and get her to change her mind ... "
My head snapped up.
"Whoa. Whoa. Wait a minute."
Everyone looked at me.
"Do not ask God to get me to change my mind. Let me get something perfectly clear. There is no power on heaven or earth that is going to change my mind about getting a divorce. I AM getting a divorce."
Well, that kinda ended that prayer. And tolled the death knell for those therapy sessions. Turns out we had two different goals for therapy. Theirs was to prevent the divorce. Mine was to help us get through it. But of far greater significance, we also had two hugely different views of prayer. They clearly thought God was their hit man and they could send him on a "change her mind" mission.
If God is in the business of answering people's requests to "make him come back to me" or "get her to stop cheating" or "get him to see that I'm the best thing that ever happened to him" or any other variation on that theme, then we haven't evolved our concept of God much beyond that of our ancestors in ancient Greece. But if God is not a hit man, what exactly does God do? This is a rich, complex question. One I've been pondering for years.
Recently I found two answers. The first is in "Opening Up" by James Pennebaker, the psychologist at the University of Texas who conducted the seminal research on the power of writing to heal the body and the mind. Buried in the footnotes on Page 212, he presents an interesting dilemma.
"Ideally, if a person can find an all-accepting listener, talking to that person may be better than writing. The trick will be to find that listener."
And what a trick that is. Human listeners, as we have all experienced, are not perfect listeners. They bring their problems, their emotions, their solutions, their stories and their needs to the task of listening, and even with the best of intentions they can feel the urge to control, fix, maneuver or even scold.
When I read that phrase, "all-accepting listener," I stopped and stared at it. Of course. Why hadn't I thought of it? The all-accepting listener. That's the single best description of God I've ever heard. And it fits so nicely with all the other "All" words: All-knowing, All-powerful, All-present. I learned the other All words in grade school, but I never heard any priest or nun call God the "All-accepting Listener."
If there was any doubt in my mind about God's role as the perfect listener, it was swept away last Sunday. I was rereading "Siddhartha" by Herman Hesse. I read "Siddhartha" in my 20s, when everyone reads it. My son, who is 17, got it for Christmas. When I saw the cover, I smiled. I had a vague warm feeling about the book, but couldn't remember anything about it, except that I had liked it very much. So I asked my son if I could read it.
Siddhartha is a young Brahmin who breaks away from his family's spiritual tradition and sets out to find his own path in life. But no matter what he tries, nothing completely satisfies him. Eventually he despairs and comes full circle back to the river where his journey began. The ferryman, a silent older man, invites him to his hut for the night. Siddhartha unburdens his heart to the ferryman and the ferryman listens to his story long into the night. In a paragraph of pure poetry, Hesse describes the ferryman's ability to listen.
"The ferryman listened very attentively. Listening, he absorbed everything, origin and childhood, all the learning, all the seeking, all joy, all woe. One of the ferryman's greatest virtues was that he knew how to listen like few other people. Without a word, the speaker felt that the ferryman took in his words, silent, open, waiting, missing none, impatient for none, neither praising nor blaming, but only listening. Siddhartha felt what happiness it is to unburden himself to such a listener, to sink his own life into this listener's heart, his own seeking, his own suffering."
There, in a novel written in 1922, is the most beautiful portrayal of God at work, listening fully, completely and perfectly. If you have any doubt, substitute the word "God" for "the ferryman":
God listens very attentively. Listening, God absorbs everything, origin and childhood, all the learning, all the seeking, all joy, all woe. One of God's greatest virtues is that God knows how to listen. Without a word, you feel that God is taking in your words, silent, open, waiting, missing none, impatient for none, neither praising nor blaming, but only listening. And you feel what happiness it is to unburden yourself to such a listener, to sink your own life into this listener's heart.
What happiness indeed. Dr. Pennebaker is right. We all seek the all-accepting listener. And the truth is the perfect listener awaits us every moment of every day. We have only to ask to be heard.
(Next week: Who is listening?)
— — —
Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is the author of the Spiritual Geography series and is currently writing "Dear God: The Conversation That Changes Everything." The Spiritual Geography books are available through Amazon or Spiritual Geography. Reach Janet at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}.© copyright 2007 by Janet Conner
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