Homespun Homily by Lori: The Grace of Listening
By Lori Fontana
Who listens to you? I mean, really listens. Who gives you total attention as you speak, letting you pause to gather your thoughts or search for just the right word to express what is rattling around in your head or flowing from your heart? If you have such a person in your life, an attentive listener, you, indeed, have a great gift.
Here’s a true story. An older couple we knew many years ago were empty-nesters. Their daily routine included sitting down together for every meal. However, whereas the wife was talkative and brimming with conversation, the husband wanted to read the newspaper in silence. The wife was miffed and tried for months to get the husband’s attention and participation without success. One morning at breakfast, when she could stand her husband’s lack of engagement no longer, she leaned over and, with a small lighter, lit his newspaper on fire.
“That sure got his attention!” she told us later.
Let’s hope none of us needs to resort to pyrotechnics to get our friend’s or loved one’s attention. But I think each of us, at some time, has felt a longing for connection with another, to be acknowledged and truly heard.
Deep, loving listening may be one of the most precious gifts one person can give to another. When a listener is totally present, showing great interest, how does the speaker respond? She or he will feel confident to share what is most important and dearest to the heart.
One might ask, “What’s so complicated about listening? Just keep quiet, nod your head, grunt in assent now and then – it’s simple.” But in truth, real listening is hard. Much of the time, we put little conscious effort into listening to another. Listening well is very much an art.
As Kay Lindahl says in her book, The Sacred Art of Listening: Forty Reflections for Cultivating a Spiritual Practice, “Listening well takes time, skill, and a readiness to slow down, to let go of expectations, judgments, boredom, self-assertiveness, defensiveness.” It is a skill that takes practice. It takes patience. It requires the listener to really want to give to another this gift.
Lindahl offers three practices that contribute to authentic listening: silence, reflection, and presence. It’s easy to understand how “silence” is a necessary quality for being a good listener. If I’m always offering “my two-cents worth” in a conversation, I don’t leave much room for the other to speak.
“Reflection” slows the conversation, allowing both speaker and listener to pause and ponder. Lindahl recommends that the listener take some deep calming breaths to help one reflect on what was said and then, perhaps, how to respond. In those moments of reflection, the speaker’s words have a chance to sink in, and the listener has time to understand.
“Reflection” bolsters the third characteristic of good listening: “presence.” Brother Lawrence, a 17th-century monk, spent his religious life doing monastery chores, mostly kitchen work. But what he is known for is how, in the smallest and most mundane tasks, he “practiced the presence of God.” Whether he was washing dishes or sweeping, cooking or scrubbing, he was totally present to that task; and he recognized God’s presence in the task. God called him to this work of his hands, so Brother Lawrence embraced each task wholeheartedly and found God amidst the dirty pots and potato peelings: “And it is not necessary to have great things to do. I turn my little omelet in the pan for the love of God.”
It’s sometimes difficult to be present to another. Their story may be long or tedious, or we’ve heard it all before, many times. When we practice being fully present in the many ordinary activities of our life, as did Brother Lawrence, then we grow in our ability to be present to another who is sharing from the heart. When I make the bed, make the bed; when I wash my hands, be present to that. This is good practice for listening with “presence.”
In many situations, listening to another these days has become fraught with anxiety, fear, even anger. As Valarie Kaur says in her book, See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love, (pp 143-144, 156, 157),
It turns out it is extremely difficult to draw close to someone you find absolutely abhorrent. How do we listen to someone when their beliefs are disgusting? Or enraging? Or terrifying? . . . In these moments, we can choose to remember that the goal of listening is not to feel empathy for our opponents, or validate their ideas, or even change their mind in the moment. Our goal is to understand them. . . .
Maybe, just maybe, my opponent will begin to wonder about me in return, ask me questions, and listen to my story. Maybe their views will start to break apart and new horizons will open in the process. . . . Then again, maybe not. It doesn’t matter as long as the primary goal of listening is to deepen my own understanding. Listening does not grant the other side legitimacy. It grants them humanity—and preserves our own.
The Letter of James offers us a similar guide to listening: Know this, my brothers and sisters: everyone should be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger… James 1:19
May each of us practice the presence of God, which in turn can help us see God present in everyone we meet. That is the foundation for loving listening, a gift we can offer to our contentious world.
