How to Have Conversations with Other Humans

During COVID-19, have you forgotten how to talk with other humans?  No, really--that's a serious question.  If you've been quarantining, working from home, unemployed, flattening the curve, and living inside your bubble, then chances are, you've had a smaller circle of people that you're talking with lately.  Social distancing isn't just staying six feet away--it's also keeping extended families apart, friends away, and made coworkers just another face on Zoom.  All this isolation can make you lose your "people skills."  Social media may be your primary form of communication these days.  And, based on the way folks interact on those platforms, it seems all our social skills have taken a nose-dive.

Add to that, the fact that it's election season for Americans.  This has increased tensions between friends and family members who may see things from different perspectives.  It seems that people have forgotten how to have civil disagreement these days.  So, maybe we need a refresher on how to have conversations with other humans.

Sometimes it's not WHAT is said, but HOW things are said that make the difference between a broken relationship and a healed one.  I'd never suggest that you abandon your cherished opinions, but perhaps with the right OARS, we can paddle through the rough waters of difficult conversations.

In William Miller and Stephen Rollnick's counseling technique called Motivational Interviewing, practitioners utilize four key skills, called OARS.  These OARS aren't just skills for counselors--they're just good communication skills for humans to have conversation with one another.  The acronym stands for Open-ended questions; Affirmations, Reflections, and Summaries.

Open-Ended Questions

Instead of asking "yes" or "no" questions that invite only a simple answer, try asking questions that really elicit a detailed response.  You'll learn more from the other person if you can get them talking.  You might try questions like:

• "Can you tell me about__________?"
• "What would it look like if _______?"
• "What do you think about_______?"

"Yes" or "no" questions can make people shut down instead of opening up.  A good conversationalist uses open-ended questions instead.

Affirmations

Affirmations are more than compliments--because they're true.  Affirmations are not flattery--they are observations and appreciations about a person or their perspective.  When you give someone an affirmation, it makes them feel built-up, and it encourages them to continue the conversation.  You might try:

• "You really seem to value ________."
• "You're really good at_________."
• "I'm impressed that you___________."

Everybody likes to talk with somebody who appreciates them.  Just make sure your affirmations are sincere, because flatter will get you nowhere in a genuine conversation.

Reflections

People want to know that they're heard.  And you need to know that you're hearing them correctly.  If you didn't understand them, you want to know that, too, so that they can clarify anything you misunderstood. You might use phrases like...

• "It sounds like you're saying_________."
• "It seems like____________."
• "If I'm hearing you right, _______________."

When you reflect back to somebody what you think you're hearing, you can make sure that you understand them.  They can also know that they're being heard.  And people who feel heard want to keep on talking.

Summaries

Whether it's at the end of a conversation, or at a turning point in a conversation, it's useful to summarize what someone has been talking about.  Summaries are kind of like reflections, but they are geared toward what comes next.  They make good transitions--either shifting toward the end of the conversation or moving to a different topic.  Summaries look like:

• "We've talked about ____.  What else is important to you?"
• "From our conversation, I've learned ____ and ____."
• "I'm glad we've established________."

Summaries help you maintain your focus in a conversation.  An unfocused chat may be fine sometimes, but true understanding takes intention.

In times like these, when isolation makes you lose your "people skills" or when political tensions threaten the loss of friendships, it's important to practice good conversational skills.  Talking is more than just speaking--it's listening.  It's asking good questions.  It's paddling skillfully through an interaction so that you enjoy the journey, see the scenery of another person's soul, and hopefully come to understanding.  


Photo credit 1:  "Talking on the edge in Zurich"by Alexandre Dulaunoy is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

Photo crecit 2: "Paddle" by ArnelGenterone is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Blessed are the Pacifiers?

If you're readying this, then by now you should have outgrown pacifiers.  Everybody knows it's bad for your teeth, and I cringe every time I see a full-fledged child (not a baby) with a pacifier in their mouth.  And, did you know that you can buy adult-sized pacifiers on Amazon?  What is this world coming to?

When Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers," he didn't mean pacifiers.  Yes, it's true that both of these words stem from the Latin word pax, meaning "peace."  But there's a vast difference between the two.  When he said this, he knew that his listeners lived under the Pax Romana (Peace of Rome), a system of oppression that brought about peace through domination and oppression.  So he had to make sure his hearers understood the difference beween people who make peace, and people who are pacified, or who pacify other folks.

A pacifier is something you give a baby, in order to keep them from crying.  You're "peacifying" them for your own good, so you don't have to hear them scream.  In this sense, it's not really peace at all--but simply the absence of noise.  A pacifier is something you give a hurting or hungry baby--to shut them up.  My Scottish foster sister used to call a pacifier a "dummy-tit," which is a nipple for dummies who don't know the difference between a piece of plastic and the real thing.

Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers," and that's a different thing altogether.  Peacemakers are NOT pacifiers.  They don't throw out platitudes to keep people happy.  Instead of saying, "Can't we all just get along?" real peacemakers do the hard work of actually listening to the cries of their hurting neighbors.  Instead of saying, "You're hurting?  I'm hurting too--let me tell you about my pain..." (a tactic designed to shut the other person up), real peacemakers simply sit and listen.  Whether they agree with the story that the other person tells or not, they make sure that the really hear their neighbor, and make sure that their neighbor knows they're heard.

I've gotta admit--pacifiers are easy.  When I was raising babies, I gave them all pacifiers.  But pacifiers are something we should outgrow.  Once a kid is old enough to talk, the pacifier should come out of their mouth.  Kids need to quit using them--and adults need to quit trying to give them to young people who are fully capable of conversation.  Because real dialogue is better than a pacifier.

Are you having trouble in your marriage, and this message is hitting home because you realize you've been a pacifier instead of a peacemaker?  Have you been troubled by racial injustice, but you've been unable to really deal with the seismic weight of actually dealing with it--so you've been saying "all lives matter" rather than sitting down to listen to stories of black pain?  Have you been changing the topic every time a friend brings up a difficult conversation, because you just don't want to deal with it?  Jesus blessed the peacemakers because their courage to have a conversation leads to the kingdom of God manifesting in the lives of hurting and hungry people.  I hope you'll have the guts to be a peacemaker, rather than a pacifier--that you'll take the time to listen.

Songs that Shaped Me: "Make Mea a Channel of Your Peace"

Probably my greatest hero is St. Francis of Assisi.  The son of a welthy merchant, he abandoned his privilege to embrace the underprivileged of society.  He embraced the preople that others believed were the most untouchable, and loved those deemed the most unloveable.  The little friar of Assisi has been called the most Jesus-like of all the Catholic saints.  The famous Prayer of St. Francis (which may have been written by a follower instead of by Frandis himself) illustrates the gentle and humble spirit of the man:

Lord make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

And where there is sadness, joy.

O divine master grant that I may

Not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love

For it is in giving that we receive-

And it's in pardoning that we are pardoned.

And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

This prayer has been a go-to for me when I find myself in emotionally trying times.  I've found it particularly helpful when I've dealt with people who are unloveable or difficult, or those who tend to bring out the worst in my own personality.  Sometimes (gasp!) I can be impatient and self-centered, prone to anger when challenging people knock me off my emotional balance.   When I'm in a situation like this, I'll step aside and quietly pray this prayer.  Or I'll pray it when I know I'm about to deal with a difficult person.  

This prayer is unique because instead of praying FOR peace, it asks the pray-er to BECOME peace, or at least to become an intrument of peace.  It takes the focus off of me and helps me to put the focus on the other person, so that I'm more interested in them than I am in myself.  

In Martin Buber's book I Thou, the Jewish philosopher and theologian talks about treating people as people, rather than treating them as objects like we so often do.  Instead of engaging people in "I-It" relationships, Buber recommends treating people "I-Thou."  To me, the Prayer of St. Francis inspires this kind of interaction.

One of my favorite songs, "Make Me a Channel of Your Peace,"  was written by Sebastien Temple in 1967.  Based on the Prayer of St. Francis, it inspires me to not just hope for peace, or even to work for peae, but to literally become a channel of God's peace.  I offer it to you today, and hope you'll be a channel of peace, too.

Songs that Shaped Me: "The Summons"

So the story goes, no sooner had my parents arrived home from their honeymoon, than the draft notice was on the door.  Dad was going to Vietnam.  When he received his summons, he had to go.  Acccording to History.com, conscription of soldiers goes back thousands of years, and provisions for the draft were made under the Code of Hammurabi, in ancient Babylon.  When you receive the summons, you have to go.

On the first day of seminary, students went around the room, telling the story of their call to ministry.  Most pastors have a "call story," about how they felt that God summoned them into church work.  Some told about being the children or grandchildren of pastors, and how ministry "ran in the family."  Others said that the idea of being a pastor completely blindsided them--that they felt like their were drafted against their will.  However we came to ministry, all of us felt called--summoned by God.  When I went to seminary in 1994, The Summons was still a new song (by church standards, anyway).  Its words made a huge difference in my understanding of calling.  The lyrics seem to come from the heart of Jesus himself. 

As a pastor, I received these words as my charter for ministry.  So much that I made the song a key feature of more than one installation service at churches that I served.  The summons remains--to go where I don't know, to let Christ's love be shown, and to grow in Him.  To leave my self (ego) behind in order to care for both cruel and kind people, to risk the hostile stare for the sake of love.  I received the summons, like my hero St. Francis, to kiss the leper clean--along with everyone who's on the fringe of society for one reason or another.  Since Jesus said to "love your neighbor as yourself," this also means loving who I am.  So self-exploration, self-knowledge, and self-love are important in order to do ministry.  Not a love of ego--but the kind of self-assurance that allows me to reach out to others for their good, even when I risk getting my hand smacked for it.  The summons of Christ calls me to use the faith I've found to reshape the world around.  This is the essence of ministry--to not leave the world the way I found it, but to make it better.  This applied to church ministry, and to the social work that I do today.

This summons is not just for me, or for pastors in general--it's a draft notice for all believers.  You've been chosen, selected especially to be who you are--to show love to a broken world and re-form it by the power of love.  If you're a Christian, I pray that the words of The Summons will resonate in your heart, and become your charter as well.  If you're not a Christian, then you could hear these words from the voice of Love, as if Love were specifcally calling you to follow (because I believe Love does).

 

Will you come and follow me

If I but call your name?

Will you go where you don't know

And never be the same?

Will you let my love be shown,

Will you let my name be known,

Will you let my life be grown

In you and you in me?

Will you leave yourself behind

If I but call your name?

Will you care for cruel and kind

And never be the same?

Will you risk the hostile stare

Should your life attract or scare?

Will you let me answer prayer

In you and you in me?

Will you let the blinded see

If I but call your name?

Will you set the prisoners free

And never be the same?

Will you kiss the leper clean,

And do such as this unseen,

And admit to what I mean

In you and you in me?

Will you love the 'you' you hide

If I but call your name?

Will you quell the fear inside

And never be the same?

Will you use the faith you've found

To reshape the world around,

Through my sight and touch and sound

In you and you in me?

Lord, your summons echoes true

When you but call my name.

Let me turn and follow you

And never be the same.

In your company I'll go

Where your love and footsteps show.

Thus I'll move and live and grow

In you and you in me.

Copyright: 

Words: 1987 WGRG, Iona Community, Glasgow, Scotland, G2 3DH (Admin. by Wild Goose Resource Group), Music: David Peacock - The Jubilate Group (Admin. by Hope Publishing Company)

Songs that Shaped Me - "Who Killed Davey Moore?"

I was pretty young when I realized that I had blood on my hands.  I learned that lesson from listening to Pete Seeger's version of Bob Dylan's song, "Who Killed Davey Moore?"  The song is about an American boxer named Davey Moore, aka "The Little Giant" because he was only five feet, two inches tall.  On March 21, 1963, Moore fought cuban boxer Sugar Ramos.  After losing the bout, he conducted post-fight interviews.  Later that evening, he complained of headaches, passed out, and died four days later.  (Click here to learn more).

You can watch the fight footage, hear the song, and read the lyrics in the following video.  At 2:36, you can see where Moore falls after hitting the base of his skull on the rope.

In Dylan's song, the referee says he's not to blame for Moore's death.  If he'd stopped the fight before its end, the crowd would have booed.  The crowd says it's not their fault--they just came to see a good fight.  The manager denies blame, stating that if Moore was sick, he should have said.  One by one, the gambling man, the sports writer, and Moore's opponent Ramos deny culpability.  Dylan ends the song with the question, "Who killed Davey Moore?  How come he died, and what's the reason for?"  

By ending with a question, Dylan leaves us, the listeners, to ponder the answer.  When we listen closely, we hear the singer's message: Yes, we all killed Davey Moore.  Not one of us is innocent--we all have blood on our hands.  We're part of a system that glorifies violence, and pays a premium to promote people's pain.  The referees among us who might stop the fight, think instead about the disapproval of the bloodthirsty crowd.  Those whose job it is to promote the violence seem to thrive off its proliferation.  The media benefits from sensational stories.  And we the people--we just came to see some sweat.  Yes, we are the crowd. We are the manager.  We are the writer.  We are the opponent.  So when Dylan asks his question, he leaves us to say, "Maybe it's me?"  This song shaped me at a young age, because it made me realize that my hands aren't as clean as I think they are.

When Jesus told his disciples that one of them was going to betray him to death, they asked the same question.  "Lord, is it I?  Maybe it's me--am I the one?"  Instead of pointing fingers to find someone else who's more to blame, they each had the wisdom to ask what part they might have to play in such violence.  Maybe it's time for us to do the same.

In this violent world we're a part of, it's easy to say, "It's not my fault--it must be yours."  We point to unjust lawmakers, crooked cops, biased media, or politicians who try to use conflict to their own advantage.  And maybe they share some of the blame.  But what if we did the harder thing and asked, "Lord, is it I?"  What if, instead of trying to take the splinter out of our brother's eye, we pried the log out of our own eye first?  What if we realized we're all part of a system, a society, that's sick, and that we all have blood on our hands?  What if we all were honest and said, "I killed Davey Moore."  And then what if we had the courage to change--ourselves and the system--so nobody like him would need to die again?

Songs that Shaped Me - "We Shall Overcome"

In times like these, we need a song.  A song to unite those who believe in equity, justice, liberation, and freedom for all people.  But not just any song.  We need a song that unites not only those who labor today, but a song that reminds us that we stand arm in arm with co-laborers from every generation that has spoken out against oppression.  So, the song we need isn't today's song, but one from generations past.

In this series, "Songs that Shaped Me," I'm sharing music that not only made a difference in my life, but songs that might shape you, too.  Let's hear Pete Seeger as he sings:

"We Shall Overcome" is a song for all who are peacefully protesting against police brutality and against systemic racism on all levels.  It is a song for Pride Month, inspiring people to join hands be proud of themselves, their friends, their family members who no longer need to remain in closets in order to be safe.  "We Shall Overcome" is a song for all who hope for a more loving, more welcome, more affirming world.  It's a song that shaped me.  If you're younger, maybe this song is new to you.  If you're older, it might take you back to different times, when we were passionate about equality.  It's a song of peaceful protest, not a song of violence.  It's a song that recognizes history's hurts and today's trouble, and looks forward to the promise of peace.

Songs that Shaped Me: "When Christians Sing That Nazi Song"

Did you ever go to church and hear a Nazi song in the worship service?  Yeah--me neither.  Or, at least, I never thought of it as a Nazi song when I was a kid.  But when I was a teenager, I was surprised to find that one of my most beloved hymns was also the national anthem of the Third Reich. Maybe you've sung this song as well... 

Yes, "We are Called to Be God's People" is one of the songs that shaped me as a child, for two reasons.  First, it is a musically amazing Austrian hymn by Franz Joseph Haydn.  The English lyrics by Thomas Jackson inspire Christians to understand their calling to live in unity, share hope, to work for God's glory, and shed light in the world. 

We are called to be God's people
Showing by our lives His grace
One in heart and one in spirit
Sign of hope for all the race
Let us show how He has changed us
And remade us as His own
Let us share our life together
As we shall around His throne

We are called to be God's servants
Working in His world today
Taking His own task upon us
All His sacred words obey
Let us rise then to His summons
Dedicate to Him our all
That we may be faithful servants
Quick to answer now His call

We are called to be God's prophets
Speaking for the truth and right
Standing firm for godly justice
Bringing evil into light
Let us seek the courage needed
Our high calling to fulfill
That we all may know the blessing
Of the doing of God's will

I absolutely loved singing this song in church on Sundays.  Its message genuinely shaped the way I view our calling as Christians.  But this song shaped me in another, more painful way as well.  Back in the mid to late 1980s, a dear old lady named Vida Savkovich, had a terrible time whenever we sang my favorite hymn.  She told our pastor that if we continued to sing it, she would have to leave the church.  That's because every time we sang it, her PTSD kicked in and she was a child watching Hitler's tanks roll through her country.  Yes, I found that one of my favorite hymns was also the Nazi national anthem.  Its opening words say, "Deutschland, Deutschland, over everything / Over every other land," and Vida was retraumatized every time she heard it.  Thanksfully, our pastor and music minister listened to her plea, and struck the song from our church's repertoire.  

Think my church's leadership overreacted?  That they made too bit a deal of her pain?  Listen to what this German vlogger has to say:

So even Germans (who have some sense) say you should avoid the first verse of that song, out of respect to others and out of a desire NOT to bring up painful feelings.

"We Are Called to Be God's People" is a song that shaped me in two ways.  First, it helped me to understand our calling as the people of God.  Second our congregational experience of the song taught me to be sensitive to the feelings of others, who may be offended by something that I might view as perfectly wholesome, beautiful, and theologically correct.  It taught me that just because something is right, that doesn't make it good.

Vida's story has impacted the way, as a pastor, I have tried to deal with other songs that involve hints of racism, traces of emperialism and violence, or sexist language.  This song that shaped me also made me aware of how much our musical choices affect young and old people who hear them.  It's important that the church listen to the theology in its music, and make sure it's communicating truth.  We need to be aware of the subtle social messages that are coming through in our hymnody and worship music.  And we need to be brave enough to ditch the songs that need to be cut.