Hill Connections: Contemplation -Faith Reflections (Embodying Presence)

Quotation The gift of being present to others seems to be a lost art in our modern day society.

Have you ever noticed during your daily rounds that the attention span of persons in positions of service is often shorter than that of a sparrow? (Think, for example, of the checkout counter of your local supermarket or reception desk at the doctor's office or hospital.) You may understand what they are saying but you're never sure they are with you. At such times your greeting or inquiry may be met by a vacant stare. Perhaps, if you are lucky, you get some responses in sign language. You may understand what they are saying but never sure they are with you at the time.

These on-the-job absentees, along with many others like them you may chance to meet on the street or at the mall have become what Pope John Paul II referred to as "mental migrants." It is not that they hail from other countries or outer space, but they're merely mental wanderers who would rather be somewhere else.

What is missing in all of these encounters is presence. Even when an acquaintance chats away at you, it does not mean that person is really present to you. Attention deficit disorder seems to be rampant in our society.

Presence can be liberating, revealing, quieting, disturbing. It is worth striving after as we learn to become more fully aware of the other in our lives. If we are to embody presence, we need to accept the gift of being in the moment, entirely and gratefully. Presence reveals itself immediately in a meaningful look, a smile, an intonation, or a handshake. To be on the receiving end of such tokens of human warmth and caring can literally make one's day.

There is a way of giving that is a way of listening and a way of speaking that is a way of giving. And when we give or receive we cease being strangers to one another.

To be present, to be fully alive, requires time and space for reflection to allow the inner self to expand.

Encountering another person freely and openly is like saying to another, "change your life." In similar fashion, when we meet the thoughts and emotions of another be it in stimulating conversation, art, music, poetry or literature, we are urged to change our life, to refrain from standing still. Encounters with the word of God in the bible and in the liturgy remind us that we cannot remain the same. Something happens when we choose to live in the presence of God. We are transformed.

Another way of experiencing presence is found in the "thereness" of things and people.

We think of the Rockies, Gibraltar, or for that matter, wondrous sunsets, surging oceans, and cavernous forests -- they are simply there, majestic presences. Landmarks, buildings, places like St. Peter's Basilica in Rome share to a lesser extent this sense of thereness. Although, since 9/11, the sheer "thereness" of these public spaces can never more be considered secure. There are people we think of in this way, familiar faces -- TV news anchors, charismatic religious and political leaders, cultural heroes, and living legends. Their high visiblity seems to assure us, to inspire us merely by being there. Even ordinary friends who fit comfortably into our lives like old shoes are reassuringly there for us. Mother of Compassion icon

I recall getting a letter some years ago from a close friend relating the tragic drowning of our mutual friend, Elizabeth. The letter went on to say how much she would be missed because whether she was near or far away from us at any given time, whether it had been months or years since we spoke to her or heard from her, the very "thereness" of her was deeply impressed on us.

These are persons and places we somehow count on. Often we take them for granted. Yet, each in his or her various ways light up our life, just at the thought of their presence in our lives.

Jesus and Mary are luminous, radiant presences. Jesus' mission was to reveal the Father, and Mary had this one work to do, as the poet noted, "to let God's glory through." Mary's quiet, abiding presence reminds us of her "Yes," let it be (Luke 1:38): Simply trust in her Son.

Above all, Jesus is there for you and me, always -- on the cross, in the Eucharist, in your heart, in the pain of each person in despair or crushing sorrow. Mary, too, is there at the foot of the cross, her Son's and ours. We, too, disciples following Mary's example, are privileged to bring that presence, that "thereness," to our contemporaries.