Now that I have Your Attention

By David Kitchingman in All Sorts

reflections on mindful attention and Christian compassion

Hi Jo "Now that I have your attention"
This poster wasn't my idea, but it seems to work, doesn't it? At least it caught my attention, even though it was stored behind obscure glass along the West Lane of the University Library. Whatever actual information had once been appended to it was no longer visible. Now the poster itself has disappeared, so I have no idea what it was all about.
But this may be my one big opportunity while I have your undivided attention. I should say something I think is really important, so here it is:
"Attention" itself is number one. That's my point. But can I prove it?
I need only point out that gaining attention is the very first thing we engage in as human beings. The newborn's piercing cry is the secret to survival. Thereafter, how much we ourselves have to offer in life depends on how we are responded to. So not only does attention come first in our lives; it is also ranked first among our faculties. One of the earliest authorities on the subject, Edward Titchener, put it this way: "The doctrine of attention is the nerve of the whole psychological system."
Why then does attention get so little attention? Because, paradoxically, it generally flies beneath the radar. It's so fundamental and universal that we don't normally bother to notice it or comment on it.
Except when it's missing - that's when we are more likely to become aware of how vital it is to human interaction. Unfortunately, just getting attention can be a major obstacle in itself. We're all often guilty of inattention, so perhaps we can benefit by reflecting on what it's like to be denied attention. Examples abound from family life to politics. Even within
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the church our Parish Council has experienced a peculiar difficulty for well over a year in having its deep concerns listened to attentively by church authorities.
The primary place of attention (or "mindfulness" as it may also be called) in the field of psychology may seem a little surprising. But what if I were to suggest that it is also foundational to spiritual life where it is even more disregarded? One odd reason for the theological neglect of the word is its absence from the English Bible, at least from the Authorised Version on which my generation was brought up. That's contributed to its virtual invisibility in church discourse. I wager that you won't find it in any dictionary of theology or list of virtues. But if you looked up a concordance to the Contemporary English Version it would begin to come out of the woodwork, or at least the paperwork. In that translation, one of the sayings most frequently attributed to Jesus is rendered: "If you have ears, pay attention!" Now, there's a strong word!
Take another example to help track it down, and to demonstrate that it's like an elusive but essential subatomic particle (a Higgs boson, if you like). In the parable of the Good Samaritan, after the aggravated robbery, three travellers all saw the victim on the road. The first two then passed by on the other side - that's all we're told about them, apart from their occupations. What was going on in their minds at that moment? Very little in fact. They were suffering from a rigid mindset following years of conditioning. They had long since made what psychology would term a "premature cognitive commitment" not to get involved in any nasty business. So they simply continued on automatic pilot, giving the man, not their attention, but a wide berth.
Not so the third traveller, who saw the man and "had compassion". Yet even that extra phrase telescopes the actual process. Before compassion kicked in he first paid full and active attention. He surveyed the scene, assessed the man's predicament and recognised him as a fellow human being in dire need. Such mindfulness can be almost instantaneous and didn't need to be spelt out in the story, but it was critical to the difference between the Samaritan and the other two men. And if he hadn't been attentive his compassion would not have emerged.
I sometimes worry a bit about The Charter for Compassion. It's a noble document and one of the great messages to our time. It calls upon all men and women "to restore compassion to the centre of morality and
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religion". We as a Parish and Church are pledged to promote it. But is it persuasive enough as a stand-alone statement? Might it not be stronger if it took more account of the dependence of compassion on the primal human processes of attention?
To illustrate. On 24 July the Otago Daily Times had a fine Editorial entitled "Responding to massacres". It was referring to the first anniversary of the slaughter in Norway of 77 people by Anders Breivik, and also to 9/11 and the recent killings in Aurora, Colorado. The Norwegian Prime Minister has spoken of the people's commitment to "more openness, more democracy, more humanity, but no more naivety". AS the ODT put it, "Liberal democracies have to be open and robust while also having boundaries." A contrast was drawn between the measured Norwegian response to their crisis and the Americans' reflexive lashing out after 9/11. It was the difference between adopting mindfulness and falling back on mindlessness.
In so much of our life and world affairs, what counts first is the level of attention achieved, before the question of compassion has even arisen. Attention is so often the necessary prerequisite to give the Charter for Compassion the oomph to get through to the behavioural level of human dynamics. Love without listening seldom gets to first base.
I've been singing the praises of attention - thorough consideration of each situation on its own merits and in its context, free of the dictates of previous mindsets. But no word is perfect. Just as "faith" and "love" can be misused so can "attention". If you've ever had to face an army sergeant on a parade ground screaming at you, "Uh-ten-SHUHN", you'll know what I mean.
But that only proves the point. Everything - right down to each word we utter (and how), each conversation we hold, each choice we make, each conflict we face - may need our mindful attention. That's an impossible counsel of perfection but it's worth having a go. There's absolutely no shortage of opportunities for practice, even today. I'm thinking about it.
David Kitchingman