The Slow Way Newsletter: On practicing curiosity, and the circular pattern of generosity
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On practicing curiosity, and the circular pattern of generosity
On Thursday, Ace's last day of school, I watched his "moving up ceremony" over Zoom, in which a sweet wildcat mascot handed out certificates to the gaggle of masked kids in Ace's classroom.
The camera was at the front of the room, so all of us zooming in could only see the teacher and the mascot up front. Ace was in a seat on the left side off-camera, and throughout the entire ceremony, while his teacher spoke about each child, my son's constant song of "ahhh," a form of verbal stimming, couldn't be missed. His teacher tried to talk above it.
Listen, no other kids were making noises. Only mine. And that’s a reality I’m learning to hold. I am the mother of a child who may always be the one making noises on the back of the room. My husband and I watched the video together and every time Ace got louder we giggled. I love every one of that kid’s sounds.
Now, I don't say that to pat myself on the back. I'm not telling this story of how adorable my son is while he makes distracting sounds to hold myself up as some example of motherly love. But I am saying that the more I understand my son, the more I know what his noises mean and why, the more I love his noises. I wrote before in this space about how knowing is part of loving. How I believe a person must be fully known before they can be fully loved. One of my great delights this past school year has been to see how much his teachers seem to understand his sounds as well, and how fully they accept all of Ace's quirks. I want my son to be known, understood, and loved.
I listened to an interview this week with Brian McLaren about his new book Faith After Doubt. And as the interview began, the podcast host Suzanne Stabile spoke about how she experienced him as a great listener. She said something like, it's so rare to meet someone who's both a great speaker and a great listener. It made me wonder what it means to be a great listener, and whether or not I actually am. I think sometimes I'm a good listener, but also? I'm better at listening to friends than I am listening to strangers. What struck me about Suzanne's comment was how she seemed to experience Brian as curious about everyone.
I think there's something to this word curious. It's a gateway to listening well. Curiosity teaches us to make space for people and ourselves, to find out why we humans do what we do. The people who love Ace well are usually the curious ones . My mom radar tells me at the pool or playground when a kid is staring at my son out of curiosity or out of disgust. The curious kids are ones we approach. Those are the kids I introduce him to and explain "Ace doesn't talk very much but he loves to play."
As I've been studying the Beatitudes I've begun to notice a circular pattern of generosity that begins with curiosity. When Jesus says blessed are the meek, or blessed are the poor in spirit, it's an invitation to those of us who don't see ourselves as meek or poor in spirit to be curious. Who are the meek? Where are they? And what does Jesus mean when he says they are blessed?
And as we become curious about the stranger---the one who makes inappropriate sounds in the back of the room, the child at the pool who doesn't act like other kids---that curiosity we practice is going to lead us to listen. Listening leads to knowing. And knowing leads to love. And once you begin to love the stranger you start to understand what Jesus means when he pronounces blessings upon the weak.
The supremely blessed, the ones Jesus invites all of us to know and love, are most often the ones the world tries to hide. Hush the noise maker in the back of the church. Move the child who's distracting out of the General Ed class and into the segregated classroom. Move out of the city and into a neighborhood where you no longer have to confront the suffering reality of homelessness. (Looking at myself here.)
It's a slow way, this business of listening, of searching for the blessed ones in the world. But I'm pretty certain that those who look for the ones Jesus blesses also end up finding Jesus along the way.
a slow practice
This week you're invited to be curious. About yourself, your family, your neighbors, and the stranger. Give yourself a quiet moment this week to think through who in your life is hardest for you to understand. Maybe it's a close family member. Maybe it's a coworker. Maybe it's someone you encountered only briefly (they bagged your groceries or cut you off in traffic, or cold called you) and you've never seen them again.
Write that person's name (or description if you don't know their name) at the top of a page. Spend a few minutes being curious about that person. Push past the part of you that wants to write them off as selfish or rude or annoying. Instead force yourself to ask questions about how they feel, about their backstory, about why they do what they do. After you've written five to seven questions about this person, take a moment to pray for them.
Ask God to help you love that person, recognizing that love just might begin with your own curiosity. Ask God to prepare you for the next time you're in their presence, helping you to listen well.