Communicate and Connect

One of the things that they teach you in ministry training is the importance of speaking clearly. You can have the most wonderfully crafted sermon, every word a gem, and if they can’t hear you on the back pew then you might as well be reading from the Argos Catalogue. You have to be loud enough, and you have to use language that other people can understand, language that speaks to them of their own lives and experiences. Another interesting aspect of leading worship is the number of times people come and thank me for what I said, but when they explain what they heard, in reality it was not what I said. It’s a good reminder of how much human communicating goes on within our own heads and hearts – and how communicating isn’t quite as straightforward as we sometimes wish it could be.

The Mulla Nasrudin who we heard about early on was said to be a marvellous preacher and so it’s hardly surprising that a Unitarian group asked him a while back to be their keynote speaker at their summer school conference. When the day came, Nasrudin arrived at the reading desk and spoke: “O people! Do you know what I am going to tell you?” And the congregation, used to audience participation, replied enthusiastically, “No, we do not know”.  “Then you are clearly not ready to hear it,” said the Mulla. He descended from the pulpit and went home. The Unitarians were taken aback but it made them all the more curious and so they asked him back to speak to them again. Nasrudin started his sermon the same way as he had before. This time, the congregation answered as one: “Yes, we know.”  “In that case,” said the Mulla, “there is no need for me to detain you any longer as you clearly don’t need me. You may go.” And he returned home. Having been prevailed upon to speak for a third time, he started his address as before: “Do you know what I am going to tell you?” The congregation was ready. “Some of us do, and others do not.” “Excellent,” said Nasrudin, “then let those who know, communicate their knowledge to those who do not.” And he went home.

When it comes to communicating of any sort most of us have much to learn and that’s why some of us are attending a course in Compassionate Communication here at Essex Church this weekend. Using methods developed by Marshall Rosenberg a clinical psychologist and the founder of the Center for Nonviolent Communications (CNVC), an international non-profit organization that offers workshops and training in 35 countries. He has initiated peace programs in war-torn areas including Rwanda, Nigeria, Malaysia, the Middle East, Serbia, Croatia, and Ireland.

Marshall Rosenberg’s methods are just as useful in everyday life relationships and communities such as ours because when it comes to communicating we all do a lot of it, but what we say may not be heard and much of our seeming communicating takes place in our own minds where we busily interpret what we think other people mean. We humans struggle at times even to communicate clearly with ourselves. I doubt that I’m the only one of us who finds it difficult sometimes to understand my own motivations and concerns. How many of us I wonder have had conversations in our heads – that go something like, ‘why did I say that?’, ‘what’s the matter with me?’, ‘why did they say that?’, ‘what did they mean? or ‘why am I this angry / upset / irritated etc. etc. etc?’. It takes effort and courage to take communication to a deeper and more authentic level where we feel safe to be who we truly are and where we can allow others to reveal themselves authentically to us.

In Marshall Rosenberg’s book ‘Nonviolent Communications’ he quotes a poem by Ruth Bebermeyer called Words are Windows (or they’re Walls) that conveys the problems and the possibilities of our communicating:

I feel so sentenced by your words,

I feel so judged and sent away,

Before I go I’ve got to know

Is that what you mean to say?

 

Before I rise to my defense,

Before I speak in hurt or fear,

Before I build that wall of words,

Tell me, did I really hear?

 

Words are windows, or they’re walls,

They sentence us, or set us free.

When I speak and when I hear,

Let the love light shine through me.

 

There are things I need to say,

Things that mean so much to me,

If my words don’t make me clear,

Will you help me to be free?

 

If I seemed to put you down,

If you felt I didn’t care,

Try to listen through my words

To the feelings that we share.

 

And it is the universal human feelings, the longings, the  needs, the yearnings, that allow us to connect with one another – because they are shared, because they are universals. Our words then can provide a window into our own being and the being of another, a window to the soul if you like. Words can also create a bridge that can link us to another human being as we slowly find ways to share our inner lives with one another, ‘building bridges between our divisions, I reach out to you will you reach out to me’ – as we sang in our chant earlier on. But to speak of our yearnings takes practice and that’s what NVC offers people – the opportunity to practice the skill of deep and compassionate communication.

Marshall Rosenberg writes that “NVC is a powerful means of communication but it goes far beyond that. It is a way of being, thinking and living in the world. Its purpose is to inspire heartfelt connections between ourselves and other people – connections that allow everyone’s needs to be met through compassionate giving. It inspires us and others to give from the heart. It also helps us to connect to our inner divinity and to what is alive in us moment to moment.”

These skills of deep communication do not come naturally to us, we need to learn them and practice them, and make space in life for real communication to take place. But I think most of us at some times in our lives will have had the experience of being truly, deeply listened to, a sense of being really heard by someone who trusts us and accepts us just as we are. Christian writer Mindy Caliguire describes this as ‘sacred listening on holy ground’ because she sees us as honouring the divinity in another human being when we really listen to another, when we really listen to ourselves.

Such listening requires us to be patient and curious, to explore in a spirit of ‘not knowing’ – creating a compassionate flow at a heart level between us. At that deeper level I do believe we enter sacred space, where we begin to overcome the illusion of our separateness and isolation, a sacred space where true connection is possible, a very beautiful place to be. So may it be. Amen.

Rev. Sarah Tinker

Sermon – 6th April 2014