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“A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing personal opinion.”
–– Proverbs 18:2
“You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God's righteousness.”
It was obviously not the response the reporter expected. In an interview with Mother Teresa of Calcutta, the legendary journalist Dan Rather asked the Nobel laureate and sainted founder of the Missionaries of Charity, “When you pray, what do you say to God?” Mother Teresa responded, “I don’t say anything, I listen.” Taken aback, Rather followed up, asking, “Well okay … when God speaks to you, then, what does he say?” To this, Mother Teresa said, “He doesn’t say anything. He listens. … And if you don’t understand that, I can’t explain it to you.”
It sounds counterintuitive if not just plain confusing to the Western mind, so inundated with words, opinions, accusations, blame, gossip, advice, criticism, self-promotion, and shouting. Yet, what Mother Teresa implies is that conversation and a shared vocabulary are not always essential to communication, and that listening is far more important than speaking.
Currently, a number of our servant leaders here at SMPC are reading Luther E. Smith, Jr.’s book Hope is Here. It is an examination of the spiritual practices that help to facilitate the emergence of a beloved community. An essential practice that is, unfortunately, sparingly practiced in Western culture is deep listening. Deep listening requires far more from the listener than merely hearing words. To truly listen, the listener must set aside all those distractions that prevent one from being fully present in the moment. Of course, this would include the king of distractions, the smartphone, but would also include the energies spent formulating a response, reaction, defense, or retort; the brain radar perpetually seeking out someone more important to talk to; or perhaps the all-consuming agenda that has usurped all of your bandwidth. Setting aside such distractions to be fully present to a person or a moment necessitates a greater effort than we are willing to give. Consequently, relationships, including the relationship with our Lord, remain superficial. Wired for relationship, we often fail because of our inability to drop our bushel of distractions.
Luther Smith recalls a visit he made to a church member following a brain surgery that significantly limited the ability of the patient to communicate. The patient recognized Smith and understood what Smith was saying, but the patient’s responses sounded like not much more than gibberish. Yet, rather than giving up, Smith set aside his quest for intelligible words, paying full attention to the patient before him, listening deeply to patient’s whole countenance. In spite of the patient’s unintelligible speech, Smith found himself able to glean some meaning –– “You’re telling me you came to St. Louis from Georgia.” The patient smiled and nodded. “You came here on the train to find work.” Again, the patient nodded. “You began doing custodial work … before arriving at the company where you retired.” The patient’s whole self was nodding in agreement. Smith approached listening as a workout involving the effort of his whole self to come to understanding and continue the conversation. You may well have discovered with someone close to you, the ability to hold a whole conversation without a word being spoken. In deep listening, we are not seeking to debate, sell, defend, or win, we are hoping to soak in the wholeness of the other in order to understand. There is sound and meaning even in the silence. Are you listening?
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