Beyond the Noise: Listening for The One

We are in difficult times. No doubt about it.  Passions and tempers run hot; angry words fly like arrows.  Media lets loose with corporate and individual accusations. Hate mongering, demonizing... good grief.  It’s exhausting.  It’s enough to make one want to curl up into a little ball on the couch, and plug in the earphones. To a good song.  Or a good audiobook.  Anything to shut out the noise.  

I’m reminded of the classic Christmas movie, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, based on the picture book by Dr. Seuss. Not the Jim Carey movie - the first one, with Boris Karloff narrating the slimy moves of the Grinch.  As the Grinch recounts all that he finds abhorrent about Christmas, he says, “All The Who girls and boys / Would wake bright and early. They’d rush for their toys! And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! The one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! [1]

In this time, in this day?  Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!   And the problem with noise is that in the midst of it, it is difficult to identify a single sound, a single voice.   There is nothing of the personal, of “the one” in the wild cacophony of sounds that don’t blend, don’t mesh, that aren’t in sync.  

And when I’m in a crowd, the only way I can be heard is to shout louder, screech higher, yell crazier than the next guy.  Not that this helps anyone to understand what I’m saying, but I think that when in a crowd, there is false security in thinking I’m anonymous. I can say anything, and who cares?  And shouting via Social Media simply brings crowd-shouting to new lows of discord and dissonance.

So — how do I stop the noise? 

Walk away. Leave the crowd. Focus on the one.

Jesus always focused on the one. The leper. The widow. The Samaritan woman. The tax collector.  Society’s outcasts, seen as the one by Jesus.  Over and over again. He looked above the crowd, up and out through the throng, his eyes resting upon the one.  He saw the heart, the soul. He noticed their pain, how they didn’t “fit” - and that made them all the more lovable to Him. He saw them. Each one. The one.

When we focus on the one, the hyperbole of the crowd looks ridiculous. The shouting sounds overly loud, hitting discordant notes of chaos, frenzy, confusion; the protests over-wrought with pent-up emotions that have gone awry. But when focusing on the one? I am exposed. They are exposed.  It’s now personal.  It’s me and her.  Me and him.  Just us in the quiet.   And now?  We can hear our heartbeats. The whisper of an idea or thought exchanged. Just us.

When we speak to just the one, and look into her eyes, his eyes… what do we see? Looking at just the one removes our focus on the madding crowd, and brings it down to the level of the one. Not a political party, but a little brother, a big sister, with shared experiences reaching far into shared yesterdays, outshining the political fires of discord.  Not a Conservative, a Liberal, a Democrat, or a Socialist, but a dear friend with whom you’ve vacationed, shared meals; with whom you’ve hiked mountains, played golf. Not a racial stereotype, but a Black sister who sits in the row next to you every Sunday, a Hispanic gentleman who owns the local Mexican restaurant, the sweet Chinese lady who greets everyone she sees with a calm, beautiful smile. Not gay or transgender, but a family member we love, with whom we’ve shared struggles and tears; someone with whom we don’t always agree, but you have agreed to love each other, above the discord of differences.

When we look at the one, when we listen to the one, we are elevated to a common level of sharing struggles and heartaches; of life’s “what-ifs” and “if only’s”. Differences melt away and we are left with sharing the heart of the matter, digging deep into the mess of things. Yes, it hurts. But it’s real. Looking the one always brings us back to love, to the essence of that person - not the issues of the day. We rise above the issues, and simply attend to the person at hand. We focus on who they are, in this time, in this place. That’s all that really matters.

When we look at the one, the noise of the crowd fades into the background, and we’re left listening to the melody of that one voice, that one song, blending in harmony with ours - not because we share political aspirations, or seek power or possessions or riches.  Our voices blend, one with the other because we see the one in each other’s eyes, in each other’s heart. And then? We sing with the other in a rich harmony of hearts in tune with The One. 

Listening to the one, to The One.  Oh, the stillness, the quiet!  It’s a beautiful thing.  We can almost hear our heartbeat. 

It’s good to know we’ve still got a heart.

[1] How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Dr Suess, Random House, 1957.