Here's today's sermon, reading Isaiah 61:1-4 in light of the tough economic times we're going through here in Stockton, CA. Have a good Thanksgiving, all, even and especially now!
Peace,
Rev. Laura
***
Living with the Texts:
“The Year of the Lord’s Favor”
The Rev. Laura Horton-Ludwig, Minister
First Unitarian Universalist Church of Stockton
November 21, 2010
Thousands of years ago, half a world away,
the people of Israel returned from exile
to rebuild the city of Jerusalem,
a city that had been devastated by war and decades of neglect.
The Babylonian conquerors had destroyed the Temple,
razed the city,
forced its inhabitants into exile.
Now, some fifty years later,
the Persians had conquered the Babylonians in their turn,
and the Persian emperor Cyrus allowed the Israelites
to come home and rebuild their city at last.
This is the background for the text at the heart of today’s service,
the third in our monthly series of engaging with sacred texts
both from the Bible and from other world scriptures.
This text is one that I know will be familiar to anyone
who’s been around this congregation for a while—
the passage from the Book of Isaiah in the Hebrew Bible
that has inspired our beloved hymn “We’ll Build a Land.”
For those who don’t know this one,
we’re going to sing it together at the end of the service,
so you’ll get to know it.
Singing this hymn with you, I hear how much it means to you,
and I’ve often thought of this hymn
as the theme song of our congregation.
It captures so beautifully the spirit of this church.
And so, today, I want to invite you to come with me
on a walk through the text that inspired it,
in the spirit of lectio divina or sacred reading.
There’s no trick to this, no secret,
you just take your time with the text
and ask yourself what it has to say to you today.
And today I’m hearing this text in a new way.
The prophet Isaiah says to the Israelites:
The Lord...has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted… (Isaiah 61:1)
or as the beautiful translation from the Jewish Publication Society
has it: “to bind up the wounded of heart.”
Often in the past I’ve heard this text as being about other people—
people who are in need, vulnerable, oppressed,
people somewhere else.
But today I look around our community, our city,
and I see a people that has been wounded of heart,
drooping in spirit,
struggling under the burden of debt, unemployment, insecurity,
and fear of the future.
We haven’t been literally forced into exile like the Israelites.
But we sure do know people
who are having to move away to find work,
some in this very congregation.
Some of us have had good friends move away;
some of us may be considering moving ourselves.
In a very real sense our congregation is going through
the experience of becoming a diaspora.
We are coming to understand ourselves at least in part
as a community encompassing those who are able to stay home
and those who have been forced to leave.
This is not easy on the spirit.
Our city has not been razed to the ground as Jerusalem was.
But we sure do know what it’s like to see friends, family members,
maybe we ourselves, physically displaced from our homes.
Just a few short years ago, it looked like the real estate market
was going up and up.
We were in the Promised Land
of ever-escalating property values and equity—
at least, those of us who had managed to buy homes
while they were still affordable.
Then came the crash, and we got foreclosed.
Tens of thousands of us have lost our homes in Stockton alone.
Many more of us are stuck owing far more on our mortgages
than our homes are worth today.
One study I came across estimates that two-thirds
of mortgage-holders in Stockton are underwater on their mortgages.
This is a community that has learned what it feels like to be displaced.
So I think we can relate to the folks who first heard
these words of Isaiah, this struggling people,
who in this moment are beginning come back from exile
and rebuild their community,
and now they’re hearing this promise of
good news to the oppressed,...
liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners.... (Isaiah 61:1)
Now, Isaiah says something very specific here
that is very relevant to our situation. He says he has been called
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.... (Isaiah 61:1)
This phrase, “the year of the Lord’s favor,”
has a very particular meaning. This is basically a code word
for something called the Jubilee Year
which was a tradition in Israelite society
going back many, many years.
The Jubilee Year happens once every fifty years,
and it’s a way of trying to sort out inequality
and make sure everyone has at least some kind of baseline
of economic support.
The Israelites were mostly farmers, and like farmers today,
sometimes the Israelite farmers got into debt
and had to sell off their land to survive,
and some of them even had to sell themselves
into a kind of voluntary slavery.
This was the reality for forty-nine years out of fifty,
seven times seven years.
But in the fiftieth year, Israelite law said
everybody who had lost their land would get it back.
All debts would be erased.
Everybody got their homes back,
everyone got to start over with a clean slate,
no debt, no hard feelings.
This is the Jubilee Year, “the year of the Lord’s favor.”
It’s like everyone agreed, for forty-nine years out of fifty,
we accept economic inequality.
We accept that some people are going to lose their land, their homes,
everything they have.
But once every fifty years we as a society
are going to do right by the people who are hurting the most.
We are going to give them back a place to live,
a way to make a living,
because that is the kind of society we want to live in.
And can I just say,
how incredible would it be to have a tradition like that
in this society?
Are we not ready for a Jubilee Year here in Stockton?
Are we not ready for a community-wide, a nationwide effort
to ensure everybody has a home
and everybody who wants to work has a way to make a living?
We are ready for a Jubilee Year like this, ready and past ready!
Speaking for myself, there are times
when I really want someone to make this happen for us.
I get tired sometimes
and I don’t want to have to do the work of justice-making.
I so sympathize with those brothers in our story
who longed to find a shortcut to what they wanted,
that buried treasure that promised them riches without effort.
I don’t want us to have to work so hard to fix things.
I wish we lived in a society
that took better care of those of us who are in trouble.
I want it to be that way now, without having to work for it.
And yet we are called to work with what is.
There really isn’t any other way.
We are the ones who can make justice real,
we and everyone else who cares about this community.
And I want to tell you something that has helped
to give me strength in these rough days we’re going through.
I told you about this phrase “the year of the Lord’s favor,”
another way of talking about the Jubilee Year.
This phrase of course is one translation of the original Hebrew;
it’s from the New Revised Standard Version,
which most of the time is what I use,
but the King James Version gives us a different translation
that I think is just marvelous:
“the acceptable year of the Lord.”
You know how sometimes someone says something
that strikes you in just the right way
and completely changes your outlook on a situation?
This is what happened to me.
I heard this phrase, “the acceptable year of the Lord,”
and I thought, wow, here we are in the most miserable time economically
that we have experienced for decades,
so much is hard,
so much is uncertain,
and yet, here we are, and this is the time we are given,
this is the life we are given,
and yet even in this very difficult moment,
even though the pain and the struggles are real,
there is another reality which permeates all that
and is deeper than the struggling,
there is a way we can experience this reality
as deeply, profoundly acceptable in spite of everything.
This is an acceptable year. This is what we’ve been given
and we have to find ways of working with it
that will bring joy into the world.
This is a tricky thing to explain. I don’t want you to misunderstand.
Maybe it will make sense if I say it this way.
I know that I need to feel that my life is meaningful and beautiful.
I think we all need that.
At times when our life is going well,
the economy’s humming along,
we have work that is congenial to our spirit,
we are happy in our relationships,
it’s easy to feel that sense that our life is meaningful and beautiful.
When things are not so easy,
in these times of economic disruption and devastation,
that need to experience our life as meaningful doesn’t go away,
and we have to work to take care of it.
We have to attend to it,
we have to go looking for beauty,
we have to look deeply at the stories we’re telling ourselves,
challenge ourselves to look below the surface of the news headlines
that blare out alarming economic statistics so continuously.
We have to remind ourselves that we are still part of a community
where people care about each other and want to help.
This is so important.
Those of us who live in Stockton know
there’s a very destructive culture here
of low morale, looking down on ourselves,
disparaging our city,
making fun of anyone who dares to suggest
this is a good place,
a place where people can thrive and be happy.
And in this sense I have to say, personally,
this is the hardest place I have ever lived.
I have found it hard to hang on to joy here
in the midst of so much negativity,
which runs way deeper than our current troubles.
Yet in some ways, this is also the easiest place I have ever lived.
I come from a cold climate, where winters are long and cold.
Here, the softness of the land is so beautiful to me.
Now, with the rains coming, it’s all so lush,
everything grows so richly, it’s such a soft place.
Living here, it’s so easy to see
that the world around us is just stunningly beautiful,
if we can just stop and pay attention.
Every sunset that washes across the sky,
every tomato plant that blossoms and bears fruit
and smells so good on our hands,
every crane and hawk and hummingbird
that deigns to share this earth with us
reminds us that we are a part of something amazing.
We are alive—
here we are, miraculously, on this little planet
in this unthinkably enormous universe
full of strangeness and wonder, and it this not a blessed miracle?
My hope for you all
is that you will be able to accept what is right now,
you will be able to say, yes, right here and right now,
my life is acceptable, I am glad to be living it.
And to do this we need to help ourselves, and help each other,
get back in touch with the beauty and the glory of this world
of which we are a part.
I truly believe this is what is going to help us
restore our communities.
This is what gives us strength and hope and courage.
Many years ago, Isaiah called out to the Israelites
and reminded them that they had it within themselves
to be
oaks of righteousness,
[to] build up the ancient ruins,
[to] raise up the former devastations;
[to] repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations. (Isaiah 61:3–4)
And is this not what we are called to do here in this place?
To repair the devastated cities,
to restore our communities to health?
This is not going to happen overnight.
It takes time.
We can’t do it alone.
But I believe this place,
this beautiful, tough, gentle, hurting city
can begin to thrive again.
Marge Piercy tells us, don’t lose heart.
Change happens slowly.
You cannot always tell by looking what is happening.
But keep weaving the fabric of community,
keep building, keep digging,
keep reaching out, keep bringing in.
This is how we are going to live for a long time [she tells us]: not always,
For every gardener knows that after the digging, after the planting, after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.
(Marge Piercy, “The Seven of Pentacles,” Singing the Living Tradition #568.)
So, with our work and our care and our commitment,
with our hanging in and our faith,
we build that land we love;
we make it real.
May it be so.
Amen.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Did They Just Say That?!
Here's a sermon I gave on Sunday on compassionate communication. Enjoy!
Peace,
Rev. Laura
***
Did They Just Say That?!
The Rev. Laura Horton-Ludwig, Minister
First Unitarian Universalist Church of Stockton
November 14, 2010
Regardless of how you feel
about how the elections turned out this year,
I bet I’m not the only one
who was relieved to get the campaigns over with.
These days it seems every election season kicks up the vitriol. Candidates hurl accusations back and forth—
their opponent is a liar, too conservative or too liberal.
They argue over who’s racist and who’s not;
who’s trustworthy and who’s not.
All the while it seems the possibility of real communication
and cooperation recedes further and further.
We know where everybody stands,
but we have no idea how they’re all going to work together
and make things better for our country and our world.
Meanwhile, closer to home, the winter holidays are coming,
and if your family is anything like mine,
this is the time of year when the extended family gets together,
and that means the odds of getting into arguments—
about politics, religion, ethics, personal choices, whatever—
go up about a millionfold
with people you love
who may see the world very differently from you.
So, in the spirit of recovery from a bruising election season
and preventative maintenance for those family gatherings
with all their conversational minefields,
I’d like to share with you a tool that has been really helpful to me.
Marshall Rosenberg, the author of the first reading today,
has developed a set of communication skills
that he calls Nonviolent Communication,
that are designed to help people communicate more compassionately,
respect difference and diversity,
and defuse conflicts,
even in situations where violence has been endemic for years.
Rosenberg has worked with people all over the world
in places devastated by war—
Palestinians and Israelis in the Middle East,
Serbians and Croatians after the war in the Balkans,
Tutsis and Hutus in Rwanda,
gang members and prison inmates here in the U.S.
Rosenberg starts with the conviction
that all human beings have the same basic needs.
We all need food and clothing and shelter,
we need care when we’re sick,
we need to feel safe,
we all need to make a contribution to our world,
we need to feel connected and appreciated.
This is how it is for everybody.
And there is nothing wrong with trying to get our needs met.
But we’re living in a culture
that teaches us to try to get our needs met by judging one another,
labeling, criticizing, condemning.
And the tragic reality is that when we feel judged,
when we feel labeled and criticized and condemned,
it is so easy for us to react by lashing out right back,
with our words or even with physical violence.
So we fall into a vicious cycle of violence and hurt,
continual anger and wounding, and where is it going to stop?
Now, just in case you are lucky enough
not to have experienced what I’m talking about,
Marita and I would like to act out a little dialogue for you
so that you can see what I mean.
This is a scene between a mother and a daughter who’s in college,
visiting home for the weekend.
Remember, it’s not really us—we’re just pretending!
Mom: Hi, sweetie, it’s good to see you!
Daughter: Hi, Mom, how are you?
Mom: Oh, you know. Getting by. (Squinting) Did you just get another tattoo? What were you thinking?
Daughter: Oh, come on, Mom, it’s no big deal. Everybody’s getting tattoos these days.
Mom: Oh, is that so? You don’t see any tattoos on this neck, do you? (Pointing to herself.)
Daughter: Mom, don’t start. You know what I mean.
Mom: Oh, do I? So I don’t count, is that what you’re saying? My opinion doesn’t matter, is that it?
Daughter: Well, actually, Mom, no, in this case it doesn’t! It’s my body and I get to decide what I want to do with it, not you!
Mom: My own daughter tells me this? No respect. That’s the problem with you kids today. No respect.
Daughter (sarcastically, rolling her eyes): Yeah, I KNOW! I’m such a mess!
Mom: Don’t you sass me!
Daughter: Fine. I’m out of here! (She storms off.)
Yikes.
Not so fun, eh?
But not so uncommon, either, right?
I shudder to think about how unskillful I’ve been
with my own family at times.
I don’t think any of us really want to be this way
with the people we love, or with anyone, really.
So, having painted this grim picture,
let me introduce you to the four basic skills
of Nonviolent Communication.
The first skill sounds easy, but I find it can be quite difficult:
separate observation and evaluation.
If someone else does something that bothers you,
can you clearly state what you observe them to be doing
without evaluating or judging what you see?
An example of mixing observation and evaluation
might be if I say to my housemate, “You are such a slob!”
If someone says that to you, how do you feel? Defensive? Angry?
How likely are you to do what they want? Probably not so much.
But if I can stick with observation and say something like,
“I notice you left the dirty dishes in the sink for two days,”
it creates room for the other person to hear it
and maybe respond in a more constructive way
that we will probably like a lot better.
That’s separating observing from evaluating.
The second skill has to do with feelings—
how skillful we are at identifying and expressing our own feelings,
and how well we take responsibility for them.
Say your partner came home later than you were expecting
and you felt upset.
It’s very common for us to express ourselves by saying something like, “Your coming home late made me really upset.”
But do you notice how that makes the other person
completely responsible for your feelings?
And that’s just factually incorrect.
If your partner comes home later than you expected,
it’s conceivable you might have all sorts of different feelings about it.
If you’ve had a long day and you’re craving some alone time,
maybe you’ll feel grateful for that extra time by yourself.
On the other hand,
if you’ve been looking forward to sharing some time together
with your partner, you might feel frustrated and disappointed.
The thing is, either way,
your partner is not responsible for your feelings.
His or her behavior may have triggered feelings in you,
but it did not make you feel this way.
And if you can separate out your feelings from what triggers them,
you will have a much better chance of being heard and understood.
Think of how it might feel to hear something like this instead:
“When you came home late,
I felt frustrated because I was really looking forward to seeing you
and spending the evening together.”
There’s no judgment of the other person—
just an honest statement of how you are feeling—
and that is a lot easier to hear.
The third skill is hard, but potentially really liberating.
When someone is angry or upset over something you’ve done,
can you listen to the needs behind their words?
Can you take a step back from feeling defensive
and really try to empathetically connect with what they’re feeling?
This is hard, but it’s really important.
I want to go back to the dirty-dishes example for a minute.
Imagine you’re the housemate who’s left the dishes in the sink,
and your roommate comes home and says to you,
“You’re such a slob!”
What if you could really try
to stay present to your roommate’s needs?
What if you could say something like,
“It sounds like you really wanted me to clean the dishes up.
Is that right?”
And the other person, especially if they haven’t been trained
in Nonviolent Communication skills,
might say something sarcastic back, like, “Yeah, you think?!?”
But if you can keep your cool
and keep reflecting back empathetically,
it can really start to calm things down
and allow both of you to be heard.
You might say something like,
“It sounds like it’s very stressful for you to come home
and find those dishes still in the sink.”
Listening to the needs behind the words.
We can even do this for ourselves when we’re upset.
The next time we notice ourselves making judgments
and labeling other people,
whether it’s a family member or a friend,
or a coworker,
or a politician we don’t agree with, or whoever it might be,
we can ask ourselves,
“When I make that judgment of [that] person,
what am I needing and not getting?”
[Marshall Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Compassion (PuddleDancer Press, 1999), p. 147.]
What am I needing and not getting?
Because that is a much truer place
than any judgment I can make of someone else,
and if I can stay in that place,
the chances of actually getting that need fulfilled are so much greater.
And, indeed, the last skill is about how to move forward
and ask the other person to help you get your needs met—
asking, not demanding.
Marshall Rosenberg calls this skill
“Requesting that which would enrich life.”
This is about asking for what we want in a way
that invites other people to respond compassionately to our needs.
Probably the most important thing to remember
is to ask for what we want, not what we don’t want.
One woman who was learning Nonviolent Communication
asked her husband to stop spending so much time at work.
A few days later, he announced that he had signed up
to play in a golf tournament with his buddies—
not exactly what she had in mind.
But she hadn’t said what she really wanted,
which was for him to spend an evening or two each week
at home with the family.
[Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication, p. 72.]
She got what she asked for, not what she wanted!
The good news is, we usually get to try again!
And the other good news is, it really is in our nature
to want to help one another.
We want to feel connected to each other.
We want to reach out in compassion.
It’s like the words of the hymn we sang:
“Can I see another’s grief, and not seek for kind relief?
Never, never can it be”—
as long as we can help each other communicate
what we’re really feeling and how we can help one another.
I’d like to invite Marita back up to the pulpit
for a “Take 2” on our mother-daughter dialogue,
this time with the daughter
practicing the skills I’ve just been talking about:
Mom: Hi, sweetie, it’s good to see you!
Daughter: Hi, Mom, how are you?
Mom: Oh, you know. Getting by. (Squinting) Did you just get another tattoo? What were you thinking?
Daughter: Mom, it sounds like you’re upset that I got the tattoo. Can you try to help me understand why it bothers you?
Mom: You think anybody’s going to give you a decent job looking like that? That’s your problem, you don’t think!
Daughter: So, Mom, it sounds like you’re worried that I won’t be able to find a good job because of the way I look. Did I get it right?
Mom: Yeah, of course I worry about you. This recession is so hard on you young people.
Daughter: Mom, can I tell you something? When you criticize my tattoos like that, it makes me feel really vulnerable. I really do care about your opinion. I want you to be proud of me.
Mom: Oh, sweetie. I am proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you. I just worry about you. Maybe I’m trying too hard to take care of you now that you’re all grown up. I know you do just fine on your own. I love you so much—I just want the best for you.
Daughter: Mom, it feels really good to hear you say that. I love you too.
Wouldn’t it be good to live in a world
where all of us could talk like this with one another?
And it’s never too late to learn.
Marshall Rosenberg tells a story about his own mother.
Once she was participating in a workshop with other women,
who were talking about how hard and frightening it can be
to express their own needs.
All of a sudden she got up and left the room.
Finally she came back, looking very pale.
He asked her, “Mom, are you OK?”
She said, “Yes, I’m OK, but I’ve just realized something
that is very hard for me to take in. I’ve just realized
that for 36 years I’ve been angry at your father
for not meeting my needs,
but I’ve never once clearly told him what I need.”
[Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication, p. 59.]
All this takes practice. It takes time—
though I hope it won’t take 36 years for you!
There’s another guy who learned Nonviolent Communication skills
and really wanted to work on them with his family.
He wrote little cheat sheet of reminders
that he carried around on an index card,
and every time there was an argument in his family,
he’d pull out the card and slow down and take his time
figuring out how he was going to respond.
And it really worked!
After about a month, he got confident enough to put the card away.
One night, he and his 4-year-old son got into an argument
about watching TV, and it wasn’t going so well.
“Daddy!” his son said, “Get the card! Get the card!”
So that’s why I’ve made up a little cheat sheet
for you to carry around—
this lovely insert in your order of service that reminds us to...
• Observe without rushing to evaluate.
• Say what you are feeling inside.
• Look for the human needs behind the words.
• Request (not demand) what would help the other person meet your needs.
If all this doesn’t work for you, then let it go. That’s fine.
If it does, if it gives you a sense of hope and possibility,
I rejoice in that!
In the spirit of healthy, compassionate, life-giving communication,
I wish you all abundant joy and peace.
Blessed be.
Amen.
Peace,
Rev. Laura
***
Did They Just Say That?!
The Rev. Laura Horton-Ludwig, Minister
First Unitarian Universalist Church of Stockton
November 14, 2010
Regardless of how you feel
about how the elections turned out this year,
I bet I’m not the only one
who was relieved to get the campaigns over with.
These days it seems every election season kicks up the vitriol. Candidates hurl accusations back and forth—
their opponent is a liar, too conservative or too liberal.
They argue over who’s racist and who’s not;
who’s trustworthy and who’s not.
All the while it seems the possibility of real communication
and cooperation recedes further and further.
We know where everybody stands,
but we have no idea how they’re all going to work together
and make things better for our country and our world.
Meanwhile, closer to home, the winter holidays are coming,
and if your family is anything like mine,
this is the time of year when the extended family gets together,
and that means the odds of getting into arguments—
about politics, religion, ethics, personal choices, whatever—
go up about a millionfold
with people you love
who may see the world very differently from you.
So, in the spirit of recovery from a bruising election season
and preventative maintenance for those family gatherings
with all their conversational minefields,
I’d like to share with you a tool that has been really helpful to me.
Marshall Rosenberg, the author of the first reading today,
has developed a set of communication skills
that he calls Nonviolent Communication,
that are designed to help people communicate more compassionately,
respect difference and diversity,
and defuse conflicts,
even in situations where violence has been endemic for years.
Rosenberg has worked with people all over the world
in places devastated by war—
Palestinians and Israelis in the Middle East,
Serbians and Croatians after the war in the Balkans,
Tutsis and Hutus in Rwanda,
gang members and prison inmates here in the U.S.
Rosenberg starts with the conviction
that all human beings have the same basic needs.
We all need food and clothing and shelter,
we need care when we’re sick,
we need to feel safe,
we all need to make a contribution to our world,
we need to feel connected and appreciated.
This is how it is for everybody.
And there is nothing wrong with trying to get our needs met.
But we’re living in a culture
that teaches us to try to get our needs met by judging one another,
labeling, criticizing, condemning.
And the tragic reality is that when we feel judged,
when we feel labeled and criticized and condemned,
it is so easy for us to react by lashing out right back,
with our words or even with physical violence.
So we fall into a vicious cycle of violence and hurt,
continual anger and wounding, and where is it going to stop?
Now, just in case you are lucky enough
not to have experienced what I’m talking about,
Marita and I would like to act out a little dialogue for you
so that you can see what I mean.
This is a scene between a mother and a daughter who’s in college,
visiting home for the weekend.
Remember, it’s not really us—we’re just pretending!
Mom: Hi, sweetie, it’s good to see you!
Daughter: Hi, Mom, how are you?
Mom: Oh, you know. Getting by. (Squinting) Did you just get another tattoo? What were you thinking?
Daughter: Oh, come on, Mom, it’s no big deal. Everybody’s getting tattoos these days.
Mom: Oh, is that so? You don’t see any tattoos on this neck, do you? (Pointing to herself.)
Daughter: Mom, don’t start. You know what I mean.
Mom: Oh, do I? So I don’t count, is that what you’re saying? My opinion doesn’t matter, is that it?
Daughter: Well, actually, Mom, no, in this case it doesn’t! It’s my body and I get to decide what I want to do with it, not you!
Mom: My own daughter tells me this? No respect. That’s the problem with you kids today. No respect.
Daughter (sarcastically, rolling her eyes): Yeah, I KNOW! I’m such a mess!
Mom: Don’t you sass me!
Daughter: Fine. I’m out of here! (She storms off.)
Yikes.
Not so fun, eh?
But not so uncommon, either, right?
I shudder to think about how unskillful I’ve been
with my own family at times.
I don’t think any of us really want to be this way
with the people we love, or with anyone, really.
So, having painted this grim picture,
let me introduce you to the four basic skills
of Nonviolent Communication.
The first skill sounds easy, but I find it can be quite difficult:
separate observation and evaluation.
If someone else does something that bothers you,
can you clearly state what you observe them to be doing
without evaluating or judging what you see?
An example of mixing observation and evaluation
might be if I say to my housemate, “You are such a slob!”
If someone says that to you, how do you feel? Defensive? Angry?
How likely are you to do what they want? Probably not so much.
But if I can stick with observation and say something like,
“I notice you left the dirty dishes in the sink for two days,”
it creates room for the other person to hear it
and maybe respond in a more constructive way
that we will probably like a lot better.
That’s separating observing from evaluating.
The second skill has to do with feelings—
how skillful we are at identifying and expressing our own feelings,
and how well we take responsibility for them.
Say your partner came home later than you were expecting
and you felt upset.
It’s very common for us to express ourselves by saying something like, “Your coming home late made me really upset.”
But do you notice how that makes the other person
completely responsible for your feelings?
And that’s just factually incorrect.
If your partner comes home later than you expected,
it’s conceivable you might have all sorts of different feelings about it.
If you’ve had a long day and you’re craving some alone time,
maybe you’ll feel grateful for that extra time by yourself.
On the other hand,
if you’ve been looking forward to sharing some time together
with your partner, you might feel frustrated and disappointed.
The thing is, either way,
your partner is not responsible for your feelings.
His or her behavior may have triggered feelings in you,
but it did not make you feel this way.
And if you can separate out your feelings from what triggers them,
you will have a much better chance of being heard and understood.
Think of how it might feel to hear something like this instead:
“When you came home late,
I felt frustrated because I was really looking forward to seeing you
and spending the evening together.”
There’s no judgment of the other person—
just an honest statement of how you are feeling—
and that is a lot easier to hear.
The third skill is hard, but potentially really liberating.
When someone is angry or upset over something you’ve done,
can you listen to the needs behind their words?
Can you take a step back from feeling defensive
and really try to empathetically connect with what they’re feeling?
This is hard, but it’s really important.
I want to go back to the dirty-dishes example for a minute.
Imagine you’re the housemate who’s left the dishes in the sink,
and your roommate comes home and says to you,
“You’re such a slob!”
What if you could really try
to stay present to your roommate’s needs?
What if you could say something like,
“It sounds like you really wanted me to clean the dishes up.
Is that right?”
And the other person, especially if they haven’t been trained
in Nonviolent Communication skills,
might say something sarcastic back, like, “Yeah, you think?!?”
But if you can keep your cool
and keep reflecting back empathetically,
it can really start to calm things down
and allow both of you to be heard.
You might say something like,
“It sounds like it’s very stressful for you to come home
and find those dishes still in the sink.”
Listening to the needs behind the words.
We can even do this for ourselves when we’re upset.
The next time we notice ourselves making judgments
and labeling other people,
whether it’s a family member or a friend,
or a coworker,
or a politician we don’t agree with, or whoever it might be,
we can ask ourselves,
“When I make that judgment of [that] person,
what am I needing and not getting?”
[Marshall Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Compassion (PuddleDancer Press, 1999), p. 147.]
What am I needing and not getting?
Because that is a much truer place
than any judgment I can make of someone else,
and if I can stay in that place,
the chances of actually getting that need fulfilled are so much greater.
And, indeed, the last skill is about how to move forward
and ask the other person to help you get your needs met—
asking, not demanding.
Marshall Rosenberg calls this skill
“Requesting that which would enrich life.”
This is about asking for what we want in a way
that invites other people to respond compassionately to our needs.
Probably the most important thing to remember
is to ask for what we want, not what we don’t want.
One woman who was learning Nonviolent Communication
asked her husband to stop spending so much time at work.
A few days later, he announced that he had signed up
to play in a golf tournament with his buddies—
not exactly what she had in mind.
But she hadn’t said what she really wanted,
which was for him to spend an evening or two each week
at home with the family.
[Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication, p. 72.]
She got what she asked for, not what she wanted!
The good news is, we usually get to try again!
And the other good news is, it really is in our nature
to want to help one another.
We want to feel connected to each other.
We want to reach out in compassion.
It’s like the words of the hymn we sang:
“Can I see another’s grief, and not seek for kind relief?
Never, never can it be”—
as long as we can help each other communicate
what we’re really feeling and how we can help one another.
I’d like to invite Marita back up to the pulpit
for a “Take 2” on our mother-daughter dialogue,
this time with the daughter
practicing the skills I’ve just been talking about:
Mom: Hi, sweetie, it’s good to see you!
Daughter: Hi, Mom, how are you?
Mom: Oh, you know. Getting by. (Squinting) Did you just get another tattoo? What were you thinking?
Daughter: Mom, it sounds like you’re upset that I got the tattoo. Can you try to help me understand why it bothers you?
Mom: You think anybody’s going to give you a decent job looking like that? That’s your problem, you don’t think!
Daughter: So, Mom, it sounds like you’re worried that I won’t be able to find a good job because of the way I look. Did I get it right?
Mom: Yeah, of course I worry about you. This recession is so hard on you young people.
Daughter: Mom, can I tell you something? When you criticize my tattoos like that, it makes me feel really vulnerable. I really do care about your opinion. I want you to be proud of me.
Mom: Oh, sweetie. I am proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you. I just worry about you. Maybe I’m trying too hard to take care of you now that you’re all grown up. I know you do just fine on your own. I love you so much—I just want the best for you.
Daughter: Mom, it feels really good to hear you say that. I love you too.
Wouldn’t it be good to live in a world
where all of us could talk like this with one another?
And it’s never too late to learn.
Marshall Rosenberg tells a story about his own mother.
Once she was participating in a workshop with other women,
who were talking about how hard and frightening it can be
to express their own needs.
All of a sudden she got up and left the room.
Finally she came back, looking very pale.
He asked her, “Mom, are you OK?”
She said, “Yes, I’m OK, but I’ve just realized something
that is very hard for me to take in. I’ve just realized
that for 36 years I’ve been angry at your father
for not meeting my needs,
but I’ve never once clearly told him what I need.”
[Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication, p. 59.]
All this takes practice. It takes time—
though I hope it won’t take 36 years for you!
There’s another guy who learned Nonviolent Communication skills
and really wanted to work on them with his family.
He wrote little cheat sheet of reminders
that he carried around on an index card,
and every time there was an argument in his family,
he’d pull out the card and slow down and take his time
figuring out how he was going to respond.
And it really worked!
After about a month, he got confident enough to put the card away.
One night, he and his 4-year-old son got into an argument
about watching TV, and it wasn’t going so well.
“Daddy!” his son said, “Get the card! Get the card!”
So that’s why I’ve made up a little cheat sheet
for you to carry around—
this lovely insert in your order of service that reminds us to...
• Observe without rushing to evaluate.
• Say what you are feeling inside.
• Look for the human needs behind the words.
• Request (not demand) what would help the other person meet your needs.
If all this doesn’t work for you, then let it go. That’s fine.
If it does, if it gives you a sense of hope and possibility,
I rejoice in that!
In the spirit of healthy, compassionate, life-giving communication,
I wish you all abundant joy and peace.
Blessed be.
Amen.
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