The Cross

At the University of Michigan nearly fifty years ago I had a dear Navy friend named John Shaughnessy, a very kind and thoughtful person with whom I stayed in touch for many years. Traveling on vacation, John even stopped by the rectory in Apalachicola one day, but we were out of town and much to my sorrow I missed seeing him.

John and I were both car nuts. We both shopped for new cars while in Michigan, where I documented shopping and purchasing a new 1963 Chevrolet station wagon as a semester project. Later while Linda and I were stationed in Japan, John sent me packages of new American car brochures. During lunchtime or after class we’d go to Dunkin’ Donuts or to some quaint college pub or small cafe to eat. It was with John that we ordered the sandwiches of limburger cheese with onion on rye bread and neither of us could get past the smell so we moved to another table with our beers.

Both of us being In the MBA program, John and I met every morning in the student lounge of the College of Business Administration for coffee. It was not unusual for him to say, “Tom, you look like a million bucks today!” It was not unusual for me to respond, “Oh, not really.” One day John said to me, “Tom, you need to learn to accept a compliment. It makes me feel bad when you reject my saying something kind.” That was the day I learned to accept a compliment. To this day I remember that morning with John, and when someone says, “That was a really good sermon,” I say, “Thank you,” even if I know it was the worst sermon I ever preached.

It’s important to listen to what people say and not turn their remarks away. As priest and pastor I’ve found John Shaughnessy’s advice to be among the most helpful things ever said to me. If someone tells me that someone hates them, for example, I tune in and listen instead of turning the comment back by saying something unhelpful like, “Oh no, everybody likes you.”

It takes lovingkindness, patience, courage, willingness to be uncomfortable for love’s sake, to listen to people. To listen quietly and attentively without cutting in to respond or correct or deny. That’s part of the art of love, agape, which is lovingkindness. For over twenty-five years I have had a friend with whom I avoid conversation because he/she can’t help butting in to whatever I’m saying, talking over me, refuting what I’m feeling, correcting what I’m saying even while I’m still trying to say it. (BTW, you don’t know this person). Without meaning to be so, she/he is rude inconsiderate thoughtless obnoxious offensive. I say “friend,” but the friendship was ruined years ago by the overbearingness, and a better word is “acquaintance.”

Listening can be sacrificial. Sometimes listening means letting oneself be vulnerable, uncomfortable with the conversation but letting it happen anyway for love’s sake. In my vocation people sometimes need someone to talk to about their sadness, or their grief, or because they got a bad report and are dying. It never helps to try and paper over what someone is trying to say by saying, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Or, “God will surely heal you.” When an uncomfortable topic such as death is brought up it's a common thing for the listener to say, “Oh, we all die, but we don’t want to think about that.” The truth is, it may be all they can think about and they may need desperately to talk about it, instead of having the listener voice denial or communicate that the subject is too uncomfortable to discuss. When our Patty was so ill two years ago this month she told me, “I’m so scared, and I’m so tired of putting on a happy face.” Sometimes people want and need to talk with a trusted friend or loved one. If you are that trusted friend or loved one, for the sake of love, chesed, agape, lovingkindness, be available, listen, participate in the pain.

That’s what the Cross is all about: love, sacrifice, pain for others.

TW+