By design, we have two ears and only one mouth

Tomorrow being the feast of Saint Joseph, I thought it appropriate to include a modern reflection related to him. This excerpt is from Daily Meditations by John Paul II:

Joseph of Nazareth is a "just man" because he totally "lives by faith." He is holy because his faith is truly heroic.

Sacred Scripture says little of him. It does not record even one word spoken by Joseph, the carpenter of Nazareth. And yet, even without words, he shows the depth of his faith, his greatness.

Saint Joseph is a man of great spirit. He is great in faith, not because he speaks his own words, but above all because he listens to the words of the Living God. He listens in silence. And his heart ceaselessly perseveres in the readiness to accept the Truth contained in the word of the Living God.

There are many meditations one can write about Joseph, yet, this being one of my weary days, what immediately comes to mind is how frequently we forget that God gave us two ears and only one mouth. My early adult years were spent largely in the company of religious Sisters. I am not suggesting that this little reflection is exclusive to nuns - my focus on the members of that set is merely to illustrate my specific personal experience.

Religious Sisters often were taught that the value of their example was very important. I would never minimise the value of good example, though I dare say that those whose example has taught me the most undoubtedly were not seeking to display said example. Unwittingly, the authors who reminded nuns of this gave us the impression that we were far more important in people's lives than was the case. Another 'two edged sword' attribute was that nearly all of us were deeply concerned for others - and it is very hard to grasp that, nearly always, though we may lovingly listen to others' problems, there really is nothing that we can do.

The caring and commitment we had normally was very strong, and our intentions were the best. Had we not been taught to insist, even to ourselves, that we had to be totally selfless, we may have seen the innocent but sometimes problematic desire to be special that could colour our views. When one wants to have the solution to every problem, whether said solution is 'you should just trust in God' or 'you should do this, loving intentions do not cancel that we can come across as not understanding, or as assuming we know ever aspect of a person's situation when that is rarely true, or that this can come across as condescension - as if we knew better than everyone else how they should live their lives.

I well remember, perhaps 30 years ago, when I attended a seminar in pastoral care. One exercise was in repeating back some point another person made, to show that one was listening. Though it clearly was intended to sharpen our focus, too much of the later 'role playing' made it plain that the obligation to constantly make comments either totally diverted the conversation or prevented the speaker from ever finishing a sentence! Rather than truly listening, we often fell into just watching for a 'key word' on which we could build a response.

It can be difficult, when we see others in pain, to know that we can do nothing to assist. Yet our listening may be highly valuable. Most people are not asking us to solve their problems, but wish just not to be alone with them.