Intentional listening. What is it, really?
When we listen with intention we make the choice to allow the other person to speak—without interruption, without judgment, and without a condescending attitude in any response we might offer. And when it comes to that last point—we don’t offer unless specifically requested to do so.
If all of this makes sense to our head and our heart, why is it so hard to live out with one another?
Maybe one explanation is when we make the choice to truly listen, we must set aside our personal agenda—even the tiniest inklings of what that might look like. And that’s not all. If we hope to listen with intention we must be prepared to give one another our complete and undivided listening attention and that takes time.
If recent events are any indication of the deep need for intentional listeners, there also seems to be a need to let go of certain old behaviors and attitudes that get in the way of truly listening to one another: “That’s not my problem;” “The problem’s too big and I’m just one person;” or “What do they have to complain about anyway?” to name a few.
Make no mistake, I can feel as helpless [and God forbid, at times, as hopeless} as the next guy when it comes to solving the many problems and challenges we face as a country. By the same token, it seems our wherewithal to shove some of this stuff under the rug is less a possibility than ever before.
The reality is, until most of us were sent into lock-down, we had a tendency to perceive time as minutes, hours, and days to be filled with action and activity. In fact, the more the better. All that busyness meant we were being productive. Or so we thought.
I’m not against busy. Or being productive. Or full schedules and calendars. What I do find disheartening is . . . our resistance to take the time to listen. Whether the topic is personal—health, job, family, etc.—or corporate—race, gender, politics, etc.—we have found a multitude of ways to avoid the hard work of authentically communicating with one another. Sound bites are enough, we think, when in reality we’re all getting short-changed in the process.
While it is true that as a spiritual director, my job, if you will, is to listen with intention, it is also true I’ve sat with many people over the years who did not hesitate to express their sadness and dismay that it’s so hard to be heard in ordinary life situations. The spouse who forever interrupts . . . the well-meaning friend who hands out advice as if there is no tomorrow . . .the person whose body language sends messages of withdrawal or disdain.
If we ever hope to overcome years and decades of prejudice and indifference, regardless the issue, we must commit—or recommit—to the virtue of patient, compassionate listening. It won’t be one and done. On the other hand, what more do we have to lose? I pray we don’t have to find out.
Do I tend to be an interrupter? Why?
Do I tend to hand out advice, invited or not? Why?
How do I feel about intentionally listening to someone with a different prospective than mine?
Can I pray and ask God how I might help bring about unity among diversity?
