Nativity Catholic Church
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God Speaks in Fragmentary
Ways I’m not by nature an “eavesdropper.” I have always been of the opinion that the world would be so much better off if people simply minded their own business, rather than be consumed with the affairs of others. Clearly, even the Church would be a much more hospitable place if its members engaged in deeper introspection instead of extrospection. If nothing more, I know the parking lot would clear out more quickly before and after Church if people sunk their teeth into their own personal business rather than the indefensible backs of others! Yet, there are times when we become privy to other people’s lives simply by sitting near them on a park bench, walking along the street, shopping in a store, or dining at the same restaurant. Conversations carry; and no matter how hard one tries not to pay attention to someone else’s business in these situations, the business is available for the taking. Part of the challenge today stems from our diluting of what were once strictly either private or public spaces. So much of what we once did “in private,” we flaunt in public. With the proliferation of cell phones, and people’s seeming lack of etiquette regarding them, we are barraged with all sorts of personal peccadilloes, floating through the air, assaulting our ears. While dining at a sidewalk café a couple of weeks ago, enjoying some al fresco munchies and watching the slice of humanity passing by, I was struck by the little bits and pieces of conversation I could hear. At one point, a full-throated woman drowned out the other voices wafting my way, as she carried on about how poorly her sister had recently been treating her, intermingled with comments about the soup-du-jour — all of this coming from across the busy street! What I was fascinated by were the bits and pieces of details from people’s lives I was able to hear. Little tantalizing entrees into other worlds and other lives, but none with a sense of completion. Part of me, despite my not wanting to be nosy, wished that I could know what exactly was being discussed in any number of the conversations I became privy to in the course of my lunch. Like a catalog of fabric swatches, the threads of people’s lives were being dangled in front of me—colorful, rich, vibrant, complex, a little frayed around the edges— yet, like those swatches, hardly enough to really know what the whole fabric looks like. Tips of the stock market, troubled relationships, a new recipe from Williams Sonoma, the sale at Jacobsen’s, a drug-addicted son, yesterday’s chemo-treatments, grieving over a dead husband, anger at a boss, gossip from co-workers, a previous night’s sexual escapades, a query as to where God happens to be spending God’s time these days while the world groans in pain and heads for self-destruction, a new baby, a search for dental floss to remove a stubborn sesame seed from a burger bun… Everything from the sublime to the mundane...but only a snippet, only a tidbit, only a momentary glimpse into the complexities of people’s lives. All of these words, all of these sounds, all of these lives swirling about in an engaging cacophony. And there I sat, taking in these pieces, wondering what deeper issues lay behind the stories, fascinated by the stuff that makes up our lives, curious as to why some voices and stories catch my attention, while others are no clearer than the passing sounds of car engines from the nearby avenue. Bits and pieces...disconnected words and phrases...fragments of conversations...fragments of life. Sometimes, this is how I seem to experience the voice of God, the promptings of the Holy Spirit. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews opens his treatise with these words:
In the past, God
spoke in partial and While the writer’s intent is to focus on the new way of speaking, the divine communication that is now revealed in the fullness of God’s Son, Jesus the Christ, for me, I’m not sure this method of revelation is really a thing of the past! I’m not so sure that God’s way of communicating doesn’t continue to be partial and various, or as one Scripture translation puts it, in fragmentary ways. Often I experience the divine communication much in the same way as I enter into the conversations of the passersby who are within earshot of my lunch table. Sometimes I am a casual observer of God’s Word; sometimes, I am overwhelmed by the messages that daily flood my life, and I’m unable to sort through them to find a clear understanding. There are days when I catch only threads of what God is weaving in my life, not sure whether to explore them further, follow where they lead, or whether to simply give them a yank as I would an annoying loose button string. Some days, I am only intent on hearing what I want to hear, focusing on what I want to focus upon, not really interested in listening beyond the surface details. Still, there are days when I simply enjoy the myriad ways in which God speaks, quite satisfied with the fragments, knowing them and appreciating them to part of the bounty that God sends my way, the rich variety that overflows in my life—many stories, many lives, many blessings. There are times when the bits and pieces, the fragments of voices confuse me. I’m not sure whom or what to listen for; I’m uncertain whether I’m really paying attention to God or to my own sinful self. Do I sometimes follow a voice because it is smooth and pleasant, or perhaps because it has forced its way into my life, much like the boisterous women holding court at a lunch table on the other side of the street? Am I at times satisfied with the superficiality that makes up so much of our daily conversations with people, and therefore, expect that God, too, will accept the same level of superficiality from me? My faith commitment, at times, may give me the strength to join in the prayer of the prophet Samuel, who uttered the simple sentiment, Speak Lord, your servant is listening...but I’m not always sure what to listen for, nor how to listen. I am not always committed to sifting through the bits and pieces, not always patient enough to patch together the fragments in order to see and know God’s message for me. Sitting alone, enjoying a sunny Spring day’s lunch on the sidewalk of a tree-lined avenue, I came to realize that all of our lives are filled with bits and pieces, fragments of others’ words and gestures, others’ lives—and sometimes, that’s as far as we can go with it. No grand plan, no completed mosaic, no fully sewn garment rendered from all the threads—only the pieces, only the wisps, only the fragments. Perhaps this is how we need to understand the vast mystery of God, too. Perhaps, God speaks in incomplete sentences.
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