Reflections: Holy Listening

May 2012
The Rev. Marguerite Alley

Holy Listening

If talking about our faith is important for us to really understand and articulate our faith then learning to listen to each is equally important. If we aren’t willing to listen to each other, then the work we do to understand exactly what we believe is in many ways pointless.

I used to work as a Hospice Chaplain. During that time, I got to know my clients pretty well. When they died, I had had plenty of time to prepare myself. I also had a supervising chaplain with whom I could “process” my own stuff. That became a very valuable tool for my own formation and understanding of end of life issues.

I remember on more than a few occasions telling folks to basically ignore what their friends and family were saying and “go with their gut”. So often, the things we say when someone is diagnosed with a catastrophic illness, is dying or after their death, are things we have heard in movies, on TV or read in books; they just don’t ring true. If someone said them to us under the same circumstances we would find them at the least disingenuous and at best irrelevant. Yet, we have been conditioned to feel as if we must say something.

Think of the litany of useless and particularly un-helpful things we have heard (and start today to eliminate them from our storehouse!). “Well, she is with God now”. “God needed another angel, so he took her”. “You can beat this!” “Well, at least he is not in pain anymore”. “You must be strong”. “The pain will get better as the days go by”. Let’s face it folks….none of these really does anything to help anyone truly “deal with” a life-threatening illness, loss or the grief that follows.

There are no two ways about it. Illness and Death stink. We can rationalize and justify, but in the end…the one we have loved is suffering or gone from our presence and there is really nothing we can do about it. In the days and weeks that follow an event such as a “bad” diagnosis or a death, our family, friends and acquaintances all process the information as differently as we do. Some may take a step back, as if afraid that it is contagious.

We have been conditioned to feel that as your friend we must say something but we don’t know what to say. When words fail, we retreat into silence and distance. Some may send flowers and cards expressing their sorrow for your loss. This is the “acceptable” (if not polite) but distant response. And it is nice from the receiving end to know that other folks are at least aware of your pain. Often, however, a week goes by, then two or three and no word from them. It feels as if they expect that you are “all well” by now (following a loss) or have had enough time to process and deal with your diagnosis and should be ready to get on with you life.

Very often, we abandon our friends and family in the worst part of the storm. Remember our friend Jonah? In the middle of the tempest the captain of the ship throws him overboard, believing that God will be appeased and the storm calmed. I think sometimes we throw our friends overboard because of the tempest they cause in us; the fear of our own illness and death, or loss is too great.

So, then what shall we do? I am somewhat miffed that the church has not done a better job at teaching us how to listen to each other and not fall prey to the idea that we can (or should) have something to say. It strikes me as a bit arrogant that I might think I have something to say to someone that would eliminate or even significantly relieve the pain and fear of their circumstance. Even if I am a “survivor” and have some practical information to convey, I cannot possibly know or understand the depth of emotion for someone else facing a similar circumstance.

Recently, a childhood friend of mine died from complications associated with diabetes. Her sister is not a member of a church and I really felt compelled to help her process her loss. In the days after the funeral, as she went about the difficult task of cleaning out the house, sorting clothes, dealing with the insurance company and the bank and so forth, her pain was at it rawest. As she talked about her pain, I was tempted at several points to change the subject. I had to work very hard to stay present with her, to listen carefully, to resist giving easy answers about God’s presence with her in the pain. Her pain was so great, I could actually feel it, and it didn’t feel good. I wanted to escape her pain. More than a few times I wanted to say “time to move on”, “get on with your life”. 

To be a good listener to this woman in pain, I had to deal with my own discomfort in the presence of her emotions. It is hard work. I’ve had more than a couple of losses of my own and a few years of helping people deal with these kinds of events, so I understand grief, loss and pain they are experiencing. Yet listening to someone in this sort of pain is still just as uncomfortable for me as it was the very first time. And the urge to say the right thing, the thing that will help them, relieve them or even cure them is still strong! But I do believe that listening is one of the more important and valuable things we can offer each other as part of a faith community. It also one thing we can offer those who don’t yet belong or see the value of belonging to a faith community. It is not something that comes naturally for most of us. We must practice our listening skills at home, at work and of course at church.