The Rev. Rob Merola

Anybody know what this is?

Right, it’s the human brain.  And it is a very powerful thing.  Even using a conservative estimate, it has the ability to process 110 bits of information/sec.  That means that if we assume a person is awake 16 hours/day for 75 years, the human brain can process 173 billion bits of information over a lifetime.

OK, true confession, I have no idea how much a bit is, but 173 billion of anything sounds like a lot, doesn’t it?  And it is.  The human brain is a very powerful thing.  

The catch is that while the brain’s processing power is quite impressive, it is not unlimited.  It will come as a surprise to no one that far more data comes our way than we could ever hope to process.  Said another way, we simply cannot pay attention to everything or anyone.  In computer speak, we need an attentional system to solve the problem of recognizing what is important in heavy clutter.

I like that phrase, “attentional system.”   Say it with me, will you:  “attentional system.”   That’s it.  You need one and so do I.

We need an attentional system because what we pay attention to in the midst of it all determines the content and quality of life.  And in a world full of heavy clutter, it’s hard to know what really deserves our attention.

Consider, for instance, our technology-rich environment that is designed to distract, to pull us in to the point we become addicted to it.   Has this ever happened to you?  Have you ever been talking to someone face-to-face and in mid-sentence they pull out their Blackberry the moment it buzzed to see what new message had arrived.  That raises a fair question, I think.  Is the Blackberry important or am I?  Which of us is important enough to deserve attention?

Or perhaps you’ve been in meetings where the majority of people have brought their laptops and are doing something else like reading email or surfing the web or even playing games. Again, that raises a question of what is important enough to warrant our attention, doesn’t it?  

People used to recognize that there are natural limitations on how connected we can be. Today we must create and impose limits on how connected we will be if we are to have any hope of being fully present in any moment or to any person before us.  It’s a daunting task.

In this morning’s Gospel, Jesus has a similar problem.    He too was facing heavy clutter.  Herod was threatening to kill Him.  His followers were saying, “Run away! Run away!”   The crowd was crying out for deliverance and healing.   There was His own desire to help and rescue in inappropriate and unhelpful ways.  And somewhere in there was the voice of God, calling Him to be faithful in finishing His work. There loud voices all around him, and urgent voices pressing from within.

Jesus knew there were natural limitations to how connected even He could be, and so He needed to employ His own attentional system to solve the problem of sifting through the heavy clutter to stay connected with God and His own unique purpose in life.

Like Jesus, we too need to deploy our attentional system if we’re going to stay connected with God, with the people who are most important to us, and with our best and truest selves.   Ever hear a married person say that he had grow apart from his spouse, or say that she had fallen out of love?   Ever hear a parent say it’s like his child has become a person he doesn’t even know, or lamenting how she and her child are no longer close?  Ever hear even best friends speak of losing touch?  Ever hear people of faith talk about how God has come to seem so far away?   Ever hear someone say they aren’t proud of, and perhaps don’t even like, the person they have become?

What is really being said is that what were once deep and profound connections have somehow been lost or broken.  Now sometimes there are very good reasons for that.  But often it is that people didn’t deploy an attentional system, and so in the midst of heavy clutter they were unable to recognize what was important.  They began to pay attention to their career rather than their kids, on somebody else instead of their spouse, on making money while neglecting their friends, on “me” instead of on God.

Now let’s just be honest right up front, shall we?  Paying attention to those we love is hard work.   And frankly, that’s why a lot of people just don’t do it.

It’s hard work first of all because it requires us to admit we can’t have it all, and that in reality our trying to have it all is just laziness.   It is easy to have a shallow and superficial relationship with lots of people, but to develop a deep and profound relationship is not. 

Worse still, because attention is a limited resource, attention paid to one person is attention that is not given to someone else.    That means investing energy in difficult decisions regarding who will get our attention–and who won’t.   It means being willing to engage in the painful process of determining what is important and then eliminating what’s not.  Hard as it may be, we must eliminate what is not important if we are ever going to be able to find the time and energy to appropriately tend to what is.

Secondly, paying attention is hard work because it takes very real effort; we must exert ourselves on behalf of another.  Paying attention means listening, really listening, and really listening always requires total concentration.  We cannot really listen to someone and do anything else at the same time.  If we are not willing to put everything else aside, including our worries, preoccupations, and distractions, and devote ourselves fully to another, then we are not really listening.

Further still, listening requires that while we are listening, we give up our own our prejudice, perspective, and aspirations so that we are not just hearing words, but really seeing things from another person’s point of view.  To do this for any length of time is demanding and exhausting work.

And it takes effort because those who really pay attention know that so much of what people say—most of it, actually— is not in their words.  It’s in their eyes or the way they are leaning forward or have their hands clenched or brow knit.  It’s in the pacing of their speech and the words they choose to emphasize.  It’s in whether they are fidgeting or still, animated or gazing out the window.   

That’s why having the laptop open when people are trying to talk or have a meeting is so deadly. Looking at the screen instead of intentionally focusing on the people around us cuts us off from most of what is being said—and very often it is the most important part.

Obviously, this kind of intentional focus on someone else takes time.  And that is the third reason paying attention is hard work:  it requires us to carve out the time that paying attention necessarily requires.

Think about it for a moment.  What does it look like when parents really pay attention to their children?   First and foremost, it means they spend time with them.  It means they spend time with them even when such time is not demanded by misbehavior or by children asking for it.  

It means spending enough time to be able to pay the kind of attention that lets us know what our children need while problems are still so little that most people wouldn’t notice.   It means noticing when a child isn’t feeling loved before he has to act out  to get our attention.    It means gently urging or structuring or praising before our child gets so frustrated that she explodes in anger or collapses in tears to get from us the help they need. 

It means observing how children eat their dinner, how they study, how they relate to adults and public situations, when they tell subtle lies, when they avoid their problems instead of tending to them.    Parents can then take the time to make minor corrections before major corrections are needed, listening to their children, responding to them, tightening a little here, loosening a little there, giving them little lectures instead of big ones, telling them little stories, giving them  little hugs, kisses, admonishments and pats on the back.

That’s what paying attention looks like, and why it takes time.  It is no different in the other important relationships of our lives.  It means noticing little problems in a marriage and tending to them before they ever become big ones.  It means noticing when distance is beginning to grow in a friendship and doing something about it.  It mean noticing  when we are starting to slip in our spiritual life before God seems a million miles away and recommitting ourselves to walking close with God. 

It just takes time, friends.  It just takes time.

Remember last week we said that the real secret of success is doing those things we don’t always feel like doing?    Well, paying attention is one of those things.  Difficult and painful though it may be, developing and deploying an attentional system is the tool that lets us sift through the heavy clutter of our lives.  It gives us the ability to solve the problem of recognizing what is important and then finding the time and the energy to tend appropriately to it.

Those who are willing to make this effort will be those who are successful at making and sustaining deep and meaningful connections.  The healthy and profoundly satisfying relationships that blossom when given the attention love requires will be well worth it.

Amen.