I ran out of the house, grabbing the first scarf I could find, one that was too big, too thick, and couldn't be held in place by my light raincoat. Since I no longer have a vehicle, I've been running to catch the bus, running for the train, and running to get to my meeting on time. Finally, on the bus, I couldn't run anymore and waited helplessly for the traffic to clear in the hope of catching the only train that would allow me to arrive on time. I arrived a minute before the scheduled departure, except that the train wasn't there; it was late. Finally, we left, one connection later, here I am at Charles de Gaulle Etoile. I get up to leave, painfully gather my bag, computer case, and big, stubborn scarf, which I drag across the platform while looking for access to the other platform for my connection. I finally get to the door of the train opposite, and it's closed in my face. Momentary disappointment, except for happiness, I see the next one arrive, but then an announcement is made on the loudspeakers 'the train entering the station is not taking passengers'. I then notice a curious thing, despite the announcement, repeated several times, clearly stated, several passengers will try in vain to open the train doors, at the same time as the announcement is played, and insisting, some until the train leaves again.
A banal spectacle, but one that makes you think. Why? Did these people, who were clearly endowed with hearing and a reasonably good knowledge of the French language, continue to do the exact opposite of what was said and repeated several times? Simple, they weren't listening, so they weren't hearing, so they weren't understanding. They had their own idea: arriving at work, at daycare, the consequence in this case wasn't serious, a little temporary embarrassment at worst, but how many times does a lack of listening, of attention, cost us dearly, very dearly?
Listening isn't automatic. We're more likely to speak than to listen. I've had people talk to me for hours and not even care that I haven't said anything. They think everything's fine as long as I listen. And when I finally say something, they don't hear it and just keep going.
People come for advice and talk non-stop. You say something, they quickly reject it and launch into endless explanations. They are convinced that if you knew everything, you would agree with them, but if I agree with them, I could no longer help them because what they think hasn't helped them so far. Maybe they need to listen to someone who will tell them something other than what they already know and think. And even when we don't speak, are we still listening?
In training interpreters, the first element is to develop listening skills. Many people who are otherwise extremely gifted in languages make very poor interpreters because they don't know how to listen. Without attentive listening, you can't reproduce the meaning of a speech; you only reproduce words. Try it out after a service and ask people what they remember from the message; you'll be amazed. Better yet, repeat the procedure two or three days later.
The Word of God must be listened to, attentively. I encourage people when I preach to practice attentive and active listening. Since you are here, you might as well get something out of it, listen attentively. Traditions have a long life, even among charismatics: praise, preaching, blessing, and we have fulfilled our religious duty. But do you listen? How many times do you preach on a subject on Sunday, and during the week someone comes eagerly to demand your attention to explain a problem, and you see right away that they have retained nothing from Sunday's teaching; they would have retained it, they would have had the answer to their question. It is so easy to doze off, to give way to our own thoughts during the preacher's ramblings. If only we could listen; and listen with the intention of learning, not criticizing. Listening to the Word of God has transformed my life and will continue to do so; I insist on it.
