More trees felled...

Like a rhythm, like a heartbeat--holy communion visits me through thematic repetition again today. As an end cap to my youngest son's discovery of the debate over whether falling trees make sound without listening ears to hear them comes this: a quote I read tonight in a book by Henri Nouwen called Life of the Beloved.

In this book, Nouwen--an aged Catholic priest who taught at Notre Dame, Harvard and Yale; a man considered by many to be an outstanding spiritual writer--is petitioned by Fred Bratman--a young journalist, a secular Jew settled in the heart of the secular world: New York City--to write a book intentioned for people like him, rather than one for the people who "least need to hear it."

Fred said, "Speak to us about the deepest yearning of our hearts, about our many wishes, about our hope; not about the many strategies for survival, but about trust; not about new methods of satisfying our emotional needs, but about love. Speak to us about a vision larger than our changing perspectives and about a voice deeper than the clamorings of our mass media. Yes, speak to us about something or someone greater than ourselves. Speak to us about...God."

And when Nouwen made an abashed comment that his voice was not the one to speak to such things, Fred said: "You can do it...You have to do it...If you don't, who will?...Visit me more often; talk to my friends; look attentively at what you see, and listen carefully to what you hear. You will discover a cry welling up from the depths of the human heart that has remained unheard because there was no one to listen."
What was that last bit again?

You will discover a cry welling up from the depths of the human heart that has remained unheard because there was no one to listen.
Trees are falling. Who can hear?


I think of the things You've been pouring into my life lately, God, and I catch Your voice floating on the wind--with a strange mix of a chuckle for some and a sigh for others--as You say: "Let's just see who's not listening now..."