Listening holds a quiet power to benefit others. Long ago, in high school debate, I discovered an interest to understand different views. And through the years, the hunger evolved. It went beyond intellectual curiosity; it became a quest to hear people out. Like everyone, some opinions are hard to hear, and others harder still. But I try to acknowledge another’s reasoning, and it turns out, science and theology support this practice. Recognition through listening offers a person the best chance to be open to other perspectives in life.
Carl Rogers pushed psychology in this direction with a revolutionary approach to therapy. With a relentless focus on listening, he founded the practice of patients leading experts to solutions through questions and dialogue. In time, academia shifted treatments from categorizing patients to tracking the thoughts of an individual. Rogers also did this in therapy groups—open discussions without judgments or critiques. “There is absolutely nothing holding us together except a common interest in the dignity and capacity of persons and the continuing possibility of deep and real communication with each other.”
Rogers argued there was a power of influence through listening. It legitimizes the other person; their worth, their being, and their dignity uplifted. When receiving this recognition, a patient could pull away from their defensiveness and isolation to see the world in healthier ways. “It is astonishing how elements which seem insoluble become soluble when someone listens. How confusions which seem irremediable turn into relatively clear flowing of streams when one is heard.” People could now have epiphanies, whether they held serious mental illness or everyday confusions. Wisdom and courage would gain a voice in their minds, and their worlds could start fresh.
But can the power of listening go beyond therapy? Can its influence prevail in our interactions? Rogers thought so. He spoke of his work having incredible, unexpected applications in our lives.
I had thought I was writing for psychotherapists, but to my astonishment discovered I was writing for people—nurses, housewives, people in the business world, priests, ministers, teachers, youth … what is true in a relationship between therapist and client may well be true for a marriage, a family, a school, an administration, a relationship between cultures or countries.
According to Rogers, the power of listening applied to any communication. When someone receives an acknowledgement of their point of view, they become more open to others. Influence becomes possible. Change becomes achievable. And other opinions won’t seem so crazy after all.
For me, the irony of this power is that Rogers’ work as a secular psychologist comes to the same conclusion as having faith. What does it mean to love our neighbor in conversation? Rogers didn’t use these words, but the heart of his practice pressed the question. And it turns out, Jesus also entered dialogue through listening—hearing before speaking, and bringing himself into someone’s pain. No doubt, he drew lines in the sand when confronting evil acts. But he also met people where they were emotionally, striking the same chord as Rogers’ therapy. In the end, empathy is a destination each world view comes to independently.
Another irony for me is that while Rogers had a negative experience of religion, it drove him to the same practice of listening. He was raised in an environment discouraging interactions with others—sinners who were bad people to stay away from. It motivated him to leave isolation and immerse himself in conversations. Meanwhile, faith has led me to pursue listening on behalf of that faith. I want to recognize another’s value by seeing how they got to where they are. So Rogers and I reach the same place—a full pursuit of understanding what others are thinking. We’ll fall short in the journey, but we pursue it nonetheless.
Now all of this might sound nice, but it’s hard to put into practice. All of us can think of opinions we hold in contempt. They’re too stupid. Too illogical. Too emotional. Too dangerous. Why give them the time of day? Why give them an audience? The topics coming to mind can be endless. As I’ve written this, I’ve thought of various online content where it’s hard to imagine fulfilling a pledge to listen. Some things—many things—feel too wrong to engage with. Too silly to acknowledge without swift rejection. It’s no wonder we “very rarely” listen, as Rogers said.
But listening doesn’t mean acceptance. Empathy is not the opposite of truth, and it doesn’t mean abandoning convictions. Rogers trusted that his patients could make better decisions, but the key was to bring them to a frame of mind to recognize them. By listening, he legitimized the person, and not their ideas. Likewise, Jesus demonstrated a great balance in communication. Empathy before direction. Instruction after listening. All were necessary as he entered someone’s presence. And Rogers confirmed that listening is an unappreciated tool.
Nor should we think of listening as weakness. It’s easy to see speaking as the brave side of communication, and indeed, it very much can be. Depending on the context, an articulate voice is a necessary skill to aspire for. But listening is bravery of another kind. To set aside one’s biases and judgments is a sacrifice. Like descending to another realm with a harness, you are considering another before yourself, traveling to meet them where they are. It’s not cowardice, nor inaction. It’s bravery as well, making listening and speaking active partners in dialogue.
Listening and speaking are both important for meeting the needs of others. One without the other can lead us backward. Listening could bring appeasement—a surrender of conviction. But speaking without listening becomes ineffective and alienating. Its aggression makes us just another angry voice in the chorus of comments online. The words might come from wisdom, but even if so, we’ll entrench people further into their own views. In the end, listening offers the best chance to bring a person to greater enlightenment.
So with the rare beauty of listening, I pledge to do what many will not: To pursue an understanding of different views. To steel-man arguments before sharing my own. To show respect for other views as I hope readers would have mine. Carl Rogers pursued this in therapy, and faith compels me to take the same path. Sooner or later, we’ll disagree. But I will strive for you to leave the page believing I did my best to understand what you think. That I offered your views a fair hearing. That I fulfilled the rarest of acts in public dialogue—that I listened.