“Listening as Teshuvah (Turning, Repentance)”

Rabbi Lauren Grabelle Herrmann, Kol Nidre 5771

 

 

G’mar Tov/Shana Tova. 

I begin tonight with a short questionnaire.

 1. Have you ever been in a class where you are so focused on what you want to say that you realize you are no longer listening and have no idea where the conversation is?  

2. Have you interrupted someone in the middle of their speaking? How about, in the last 48 hours?

3. Have you ever been in a situation in which a friend reaches out for comfort and even when she doesn’t ask for it, you insist on giving her your good advice? 

4. Have you ever turned off a radio or TV news story mid-way because you couldn’t tolerate the views being expressed by the person interviewed?

5. Have you ever been in synagogue and realized half-way through the rabbi’s sermon that you have no idea what the rabbi is saying? (Hands up for this one!)

I am guessing that I am not the only one in the room who got a perfect or near-perfect score on this quiz!  And while I admit that I have slept through my fair share of sermons (other rabbis’ of course!), I want to humbly suggest that this is a sermon you may want to listen to.  Because, if you haven’t guessed already from the questions I posed, this is a sermon about listening—about listening as (a form of) teshuvah (repentance, turning)—a way of turning towards others and returning to the best versions of ourselves.

We come here on this Day of Atonement, with a desire to change.  Though each of us brings our own personal struggles, disappointments, and hopes, we all share a common desire to be the best versions of ourselves, to be great parents, responsive friends, caring lovers, partners, and children.  Yet, despite that aspiration, we find ourselves, at times, disconnected and alone.  Even those of us who have cultivated intimacy in our relationships recognize that there are ways we can grow and deepen those connections. 

I have found that one way we can grow our own souls and strengthen our relationships is through improving the quality of our listening. 

Bringing more awareness and intentionality to listening may seem like a small thing, but it is actually incredibly powerful.  Listening is about much more than processing words on the physical plane—listening can be an offering of one’s presence, an opportunity for learning and connecting deeply with another.  In this way, listening transcends one’s physical ability to hear. 

Improving the quality of our listening may seem like a simple thing, yet it is really challenging.  To become better listeners -- and by extension more responsive children, parents, friends, siblings-- we have to learn and practice new ways of communicating, expressing concern, and being in relationship. 

Tonight, I want to suggest three instructions/practices that have been especially helpful for me in improving my listening and by extension, strengthening my relationships.  I bring them to you tonight as an offering – as practices, ideas, inspirations that might help you in turning toward others and toward who you hope to be. 

1.      Listen without an agenda.  Listen without fixing, advising, or setting straight.

As many of you know, I have spent the last eighteen months in a program called the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, in which a group of rabbis explored mindfulness practices and Jewish learning between and during four retreats together.  Each retreat was structured with a heavy does of silence and set times for davenning (prayer), yoga, meditation, and torah study.  Toward the end of each day, we gathered in what were called “Core Groups,” small groupings of participants who came together to create a “safe space” in which people can express any thoughts, feelings, or reflections on their minds.

For Core Group, we were given three instructions:

No fixing, No Advising, No setting straight. 

 As you might imagine, these simple rules were very hard to abide by!  Some people talked about ill and dying parents, lovers, or friends; others about personal relationships in jeopardy; others about troubled work environments.  On the last retreat of our program, I was in a Core Group with a woman who on the first day of the retreat found herself in tremendous pain.  A triggering event had unleashed what seemed like a lifetime of stored-up sadness.  After crying a full day in silence, she came to core group and opened herself to us, sharing the pain, the hurt, the hopelessness.  It was incredibly hard to watch this lovely person in so much pain.  It took great effort on our part not to morph into cheerleaders or personal coaches, but we remembered: no fixing, no advising, no setting straight. 

 As the week went on, I observed this person gaining renewed strength.  On the last day of the retreat, she told us that our listening had helped her move through the pain into a more expansive, even joyous space.  In the space of feeling held and heard, healing occurred. 

 The experience of “core groups”—intentionally structured groups with the sole purpose of listening– is not something most of us have access to on a regular basis.  At the same time, we do regularly encounter people who are struggling, who are grieving, or who are just having a hard day.  While our natural instinct to comfort, to say “everything is going to be alright” comes from a good place, there is a shadow side to it.  For when “fix” the troubles of another, it means that we don’t have to deal with pain – another person’s or our own.  Personally speaking, I have found that the more I can hold the pain of others, the more I can also heal myself. 

The practice of refraining from fixing or setting straight does not have to be limited to those in our lives who are in dire straights.  How many times do we offer people our wise counsel without knowing if that is what they need or want?  The truth is that we don’t always need feedback; sometimes we just need to be heard and understood.

This rule of not fixing, advising, or setting straight teaches that the ikar, the essence of listening, is presence.  People don’t necessarily need our words, they need us.  It is an incredible gesture of love and compassion to offer another the simple gift of our listening.     

2.      Listen without Judgments.  Listen for understanding, not for agreement.

In Pirke Avot, the Ethics of our Fathers, we learn: “Aizeh hu hacham, hu lomed mi kol Adam.  Who is wise? The one who learns from every person.”

Many of us would agree, at least in theory, with this sagely advice.  Yet the truth of the matter is that we don’t always put this advice into practice!  We carefully select our radio stations and news commentators; we choose those with whom we do or do not engage in dialogue.

 Our listening is deeply affected by our judgments, biases, and prejudices.  Rabbi Sheila Peltz Weinberg, tells a story that demonstrates this well.  Describing a time when she was being on a silent retreat, she says:[1]  

“The first night on retreat I notice one of the participants, a man in his early 60s, tall, slender, gray-haired, restless, full of energy.  He reminds me of President Bush the first.  This guy looks like…an entitled, rich while Christian male.  I take an immediately dislike to this man. I can’t figure out why on earth he is on this retreat.  Whenever Mr. X comes into view I notice that feelings of aversion arise in me, followed by unpleasant judging thoughts.  I have never spoken a word to this man, but this does not prevent me from disliking him and everything I decide he represents—especially power and arrogance…. 

Ultimately, Rabbi Weinberg recognized that her own judgments were clouding her ability to be with this person whom she had not even met.  Later, she discovers that the two have more in common than she would have ever guessed.  She recounts:

On the last day of retreat there is a sharing. There about a hundred people on retreat, all sitting in a circle. For the first time we can see each other’s faces.  Each person has a chance to say a few sentences.  This is our first speaking after 10 days of silence. I am nervous. I am thinking of what I am going to say. When it is my turn, I say: “this has been great. I am the rabbi of a synagogue. I feel that coming on this retreat makes me a better rabbi. I am very grateful.”  A few people after it is Mr. X.  He says, [in a very thick Southern accent,] “My name is Barton Poole. I am from northern Mississippi and I have a lot in common with the rabbi.”  Now I am listening.  “I am a Methodist minister and I feel that this practice gives me the chance to truly walk my faith.  I am very grateful."

I imagine that each of us can think for a second about our own Barton Poole: a person or persons in our lives for whom our aversions toward have us at bay.  Sometimes, we distance ourselves based on appearance, dress.  Sometimes, we shut down when we hear a person saying something that we don’t agree with.  Maybe we are lucky enough to be like Rabbi Weinberg and have an opportunity to listen to another person, moving past our judgments and assumptions.  Much of the time, I suspect we are not so blessed.

As I have learned from Kay Lindahl[2], founder of The Listening Center (from whom I learned this listening principle), our culture seems to hold the notion that listening means or necessitates agreement.  Think for a second about the ways we listen to speakers, teachers, or even friends.  Our brains are so occupied, evaluating, assessing, naming “I agree,” “I don’t agree,” “That’s wrong,” “That’s right.”  And beyond assessment, we often feel a need to prove or defend our point of view.  I know that when I perceive one of my core values or principles to be at odds with another, I immediately rush to either attack the other position or defend my own.  But the truth is, these responses may help us win political arguments but they do not help us build communities or transcend the differences that are threatening to tear our society apart.

Instead, Lindahl suggests another paradigm.  She says: “Listen for understanding, not to agree with or believe.”  What might happen, I wonder, if when encountering another whom we perceive is “not like us,” or who holds a view that is contrary to our own, instead of reacting or responding, we asked questions or sought to learn more?

Listening past our judgments invites us to bring a spirit of curiosity and wonder to our conversations.  Listening for understanding allows us to “lomed mikol adam,” to learn from every person. 

 

3. Listen Beyond the words. 

A few months ago, Aviel refused to go down the stairs in our house without being carried.  Trying to teach her independence, I politely refused.  She proceeded to throw a tantrum.  Tired, frustrated, I could feel my whole body tensing up.  I coached, “Aviel, you are big girl now, you can do this.”  By this time, her tears were becoming uncontrollable.  Against my better judgment, I carried her down the stairs and comforted her for a few minutes.  Whereas most days I might chalk this up to the terrible 2s, I decided to inquire.  “Aviel, why don’t you want to go down the stairs?” I asked.  After a few questions, trying to discern her motives, I discovered that there was in fact something else going on.  “Are you afraid,” she nodded her hand and said, “Yes I am afraid.”  In a second, my frustration was replaced by empathy, my anger replaced by love.  I held her and comforted her.  The next few days, I carried her down the stairs.  Some weeks later, she began walking down them all by herself.

Sometimes, when we stop and dig deeper, we are able to listen beyond the words and tune in to what is going in another person’s heart and soul.  When we do this, we are granted precious opportunities into connection and knowing.

In the Bible, there is a very peculiar phrase that is used only one time[3].  God appears to Solomon in a dream and asks him what Solomon needs to step into his new role as King.  Solomon says: “Grant me a Lev Shomea.”  Lev shomea technically means “listening heart.” This is what I understand “Listening beyond the words” to mean: that we cultivate an ability to listen not only with our ears, not only with our minds, but also with our hearts. 

Listening beyond the words means that we take the time to pause and consider the person, the soul that we are engaging.  Listening beyond the words asks us that we bring a spirit of inquiry to our interactions, a digging beneath the surface than can bring about new possibilities of understanding and trust. 

On Yom Kippur, when we consider the ways in which we can turn towards others and grow into the best version of ourselves, I want to invite us to consider how we might bring greater attention and intention to our listening, how we can develop and grow our listening skills.

Perhaps we could take 10 minutes each day to do nothing else but listen.  Or to put on a CD to just hear or feel the music, with no other distractions.  We could engage that co-worker who we normally tune out for one reason or another.  We might resolve to engage in formal or informal dialogue with people of others faiths or views divergent than our own.  We could set aside a few minutes a day to listen to our friend or spouse share about their day, with no other agenda than offering our presence.

Rewards lie in the power of listening.  Through listening, we can hold and be held. Through listening we have the opportunity to learn and grow, to expand our ways of thinking.  Through listening we can tune in to others, build meaningful and trusting relationships.  Through listening, we may be blessed to improve our lives and impact the lives of our friends, community members, and beyond.

 G’mar Hatima Tova.