Muttering is that form of complaining often used when one is too cowardly to vocalize one’s grievance to the person, the “cause” of the complaint. Essentially, we talk about this person behind his back, but in the case of muttering, the person to whom we talk is ourselves. While this may sound harmless enough, it is still a form of gossip and calumny, and if left unchecked, has the potential to become a far worse transgression than speaking our opinions aloud to others.
Why is that? Because when we engage in conversation with our own thoughts, we voice further support for the hypothesis we have postulated. There is no one to tell us, “I don’t think that’s what they meant,” or, “Why don’t you just ask them what their intentions are?” Our assumptions and doubts do have the power to turn others against the person of our suspicions, but if we at least choose a spiritual confidant to voice our grievances to, they, guided by the Holy Spirit, can offer clarity and perspective. This is vastly different from muttering to ourselves.
Muttering adds suspicion to our already suspicious thoughts. It seeks to offer imagined “proofs” for our arguments. And if we stay alone in the murky waters of our minds long enough, eventually our suspicions will seem to be certain fact. We will have accepted as doctrine something that we ourselves invented, completely forgetting and utterly oblivious to the fact that it was we who created the hypothesis.
It is frighteningly easy to fall into a spiral of anger and doubt when we mutter.
When we harbor angry or jealous or bitter thoughts against anyone—even if we perceive them to be “deserved”—the muttering we conduct in our own minds is not unheard by God. The fantasies of a different life, the imagined false scenarios, the thoughts of venomous anger, the “wishing” people out of our lives—all of it—is heard by God.
Let’s think about this the next time we are tempted to ruminate and stew. Let’s imagine our beloved Jesus sitting right next to us, quietly listening, with a gaze of tender compassion that understands the cause of our pain and lament, but is also heartbroken by our bitterness. Jesus offers comfort and peace. He is the one who can fill our hearts with the grace to forgive the sinner and to love the one who has hurt us. May the thought of Jesus who hears all things put an end to our mutterings of complaint and judgment, stopping them right in their tracks.
Still, we are left with a very real problem. When we have been offended, scandalized, and are riddled with doubt, how do we not think our thoughts? Does Jesus expect us to simply ignore them? Pretend nothing is bothering us? Of course not. So what does Jesus want us to do?
Jesus wants us to invite Him in. He wants us to turn to Him and transform our thoughts into prayer. A simple, “Jesus, how do You see things?” will soon reveal the flaws in our thinking and fill us with the grace to remain peaceful about the part of our thinking that is accurate, presenting a way to address our problem—other than by muttering.
How does Jesus do all this for us? Let’s look at His interaction with Simon the Pharisee:
Do you see this woman? When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet, but she has bathed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but she has not ceased kissing my feet since the time I entered. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she anointed my feet with ointment. (Lk. 7:44-46)
When Jesus exposes Simon’s muttering thoughts and brings them to the light, the first thing He does before helping Simon understand why Jesus has allowed the “sinful” woman to touch Him is to point out Simon’s own transgressions—ones that Simon has not even noticed.
Sometimes in my singular focus to get my house ready for guests, I will forget the reason my guests have come to visit in the first place: to spend time with me, not to sit there bored as they watch me wash the dishes! Simon, it seems, is so caught up in the excitement and curiosity of hosting this famous teacher at his home, that he overlooks the fact that the purpose for which his guest had come is so that Simon could learn.
So it is with us. When we invite Jesus into the conversations we have with ourselves, we should not expect Him to take our “side”—at least not in the way we would think. Jesus indeed is on our side, which is precisely why the first thing He does is shine a spotlight on our sins, that we might strive to root them out. We cannot work on faults which we do not see. The awareness of our own faults, then, will necessarily soften our rigid stance towards the faults of those who offend us, because nothing draws out mercy like humility. And from that lowly place of humility, Jesus can finally teach us to love.
Author’s Note: Excerpt from: The Safe Haven: Scriptural Reflections for the Heart and Home (Ordinary Time Weeks 22-28). To purchase, visit Amazon or The Catholic Company, where all other volumes currently in print are also available.
Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust on Unsplash
