I spent a delightful and soul-nourishing hour with my spiritual director this morning. I didn't have any issues that urgently needed her sage reflection, but just sort of sat down in her spare and lovely front room with a cup of Starbuck's (a pretty rare treat), her Van Gogh painting on the wall across from my chair -- a very peaceful one -- and two lovely framed photographs tipped against the wall on the table. She lights a candle before we begin talking and then we sit in silence for a few minutes. To begin the silence she taps the edge of a bowl-shaped bell and the sound resonates in the silence as we listen with full intention. Whenever I am with her I am aware that something I don't expect will come into focus, and focusing my listening on the bell helps me to gather my scattered spirit to attention.
I told her about our Bible fluency project and how aware I have become of how the Bible stories with which I am most familiar have not only become a living part of my everyday life but also templates for understanding the meaning of what is going on around me even as events unfold. I explained to her how I tried to get across not only familiarity with the story of Joseph, but also its similarity to the story of Amanda Knox, and on a more personal level how there are times in our lives when we are innocently (or not) metaphorically spending time in a prison and how our lives are transformed by the experience. Stories interpret each other like the transparent overlays in picture books I had as a child. And we learn to see patterns. Teach a small child what a rhyme is and in no time her world has become a rhyming world and she hears rhymes everywhere and makes them up herself.
We ended our hour with another brief silence, this one ended by her bell. And as I listened to its tone fading into nothing, I was reminded of the story of Elijah and Elisha. Elijah was the prophet and Elisha was his disciple. When it was time for Elijah to be taken up into heaven, Elisha refused to leave his side. The old man asked the younger if there was anything he could do for him while he was still there, and
Elisha said he would like a double portion of his spirit. Elijah said he could have it only if he could keep his eye on the old prophet as he disappeared. The chariots of fire swooped down from heaven and took Elijah on board, and away they flew into the heavens. But Elisha kept his eye on them until they were no longer even the tiniest speck in the sky. And I imagine he kept looking at the place where Elijah vanished from sight even after he was gone. Listening to the silence after the bell's ringing became inaudible felt like that to me today, and in some sense that silent ringing is continuing in my soul and spirit as I have come back to work filled with the presence that was in the room with Anne and me this morning. The story of Elijah and the resonance of that bell and our attention as we did nothing but listen remind me that attentiveness and focus are what bring us most fully into the present, and that the present, not the past or the future, is where God's gifts are waiting for us if only we will stay with what is right before us.
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