Listening with the Ear of the Heart: A Meditation

To "listen with the ear of the heart" is to go beyond hearing words and sounds — it is to be present in a way that honors the speaker’s full humanity, as well as our own. This phrase, drawn from the Rule of St. Benedict, speaks not only to how we engage with others but how we attend to life itself: slowly, reverently, attentively.

The ear of the heart doesn’t filter through logic or judgment. It receives. It opens. It waits. In contrast to the distracted or reactive mind, the posture of listening with the ear of the heart is one of stillness and receptivity. It listens not to respond, but to understand — not only to what is said, but what is felt, what is meant, and what is left unspoken.

Listening with the heart cannot be rushed. It requires space and the willingness to be changed by what we hear. It is a posture of compassion. When we listen with the heart, we are no longer preparing our rebuttal or shaping our reply; we are entering into a sacred exchange, one that asks us to enter quietly and with grace into another’s reality.

To listen with the ear of the heart is to listen inwardly. The heart listens to the gentle nudging of truth that the mind may ignore. In silence, in prayer, in moments of quiet clarity, the heart can hear what matters most — a call to act, a wound to tend, a joy to cherish. This listening is the doorway to wisdom. It may not come with great clarity at first; it may be a whisper. But it is always honest.

In a world so full of noise, listening with the ear of the heart asks us to slow down, to turn off the phone, to look into someone's eyes when they speak. It asks us to feel rather than analyze, to connect rather than control. It demands vulnerability. It offers healing.

Consider a world where we all practiced this kind of listening. How many conflicts would soften? How many misunderstandings would clear? How many hearts better understood?

Listening with the ear of the heart is an act of love — a deep, attentive, patient love that has the power to transform. It invites and is centered in the humility of the soul. It says, “I don’t know everything. But I am here. And I am listening.”

May we all strive to listen this way — to our friends, our enemies, ourselves, and the quiet voice of grace that speaks to us so often without words.

Let the noise fall away. Let the mind rest.

Listen — with the ear of your heart.

To become what we seek...

 Sr. Joan reminds us today of the importance of our reading and our prayers.  We are called to examine and reflect on every act, every thought, every step we take--every part of our lives.  In doing so we will come to realize that the God we seek is seeking us!

Our prayers will become a furnace ... to heat and purify our minds and our hearts, our ideas and our lives.  The prayers that pass our lips will change our lives and we will become what we say we are ... and God's presence will become palpable within us.

 

Prayer will burn off the dross that clings to our souls like mildew and set us free for deeper, richer, truer lives in which we become what we seek.

A Prayer for the Middle-East

 A Prayer for Peace in a Troubled Land

As offered by one who walks the earth with sand-worn feet, and lifts his eyes to the eternal heavens—
a philosopher of old, a child of the Creator,
bearing wisdom carved by time and fire.

---

O Eternal One,
Maker of the heavens, the stars, and the deep-rooted earth,
Father of Abraham, of Ishmael and Isaac,
of those who call Your name in Hebrew, in Arabic, in silence—

Stretch forth Your hand upon this land
where brother turns against brother,
and the children of promise bleed into the soil of inheritance.

O Lord of Time, who sees the end from the beginning,
teach us again the wisdom of peace.
Let not the cries of the innocent rise to You unanswered.
Let not vengeance pass from father to son
like the shadow of a great mountain that never lifts.

You who breathe life into dust,
breathe gentleness into hearts hardened by generations of sorrow.
Break the bow, shatter the spear,
undo the clever machinery of war.

O God who numbers the hairs of each head,
let no life be counted lightly.
Pour the oil of healing upon Iran and Israel,
these children of Your covenant,
that they may yet sit beneath their own vines and fig trees,
and none shall make them afraid.

Make prophets of their poets,
make builders of their young,
and may Your justice—firm and radiant—walk hand in hand with mercy.

We ask not for triumph of one over the other,
but for the triumph of love over hatred,
of hope over despair,
of Your peace over our pride.

Amen.