You see memes all about kindness costing nothing, and you wonder why more people aren’t kinder. Well, it’s actually hard being consistently kind because it demands humility enough to shelve our righteous indignation when people tread on our toes.
Listening is the same. There are all kinds of quotes that fly around on ‘Are you okay day?’ for instance. It’s like society demands more people listen better, but it’s not that simple. Listening is hard, especially when we might have something to say.
Better than listening is the practice all good counsellors use—holding space.
It’s the use of silence. So that the person we’re with has plenty of space to think, talk a little (or much), cry, laugh, and most importantly, feel. Of course, people who need comfort also need us to talk! It’s discerning when, what, how long.
What people need when they want someone to listen to them is space enough to fill. Few if any interjections, presence of curiosity and interest, the ability to focus enough to inquire into the depths and not just stay at the safer periphery.
I still ask myself why so few people hold space for others. One of the obvious reasons is it feels so damn ineffective. It feels like you’re doing nothing to ‘help’, but the irony is God’s Spirit helps most when there’s liminal space enough for a person to break open and pour their heart out. Where time is no longer a dimension to interrupt the eternality of the moment.
Yes, a common reason we don’t hold space well, to be perfectly honest, is unconsciously we want some of the credit for helping the person, and yet we interrupt the precious therapy that silence and silent presence could do of its own if only we trusted the moment.
We may have faith that our words will be seasoned with just the right wisdom, but in the broken places there are no words, so the words inevitably fall short and fail. We sell out the eternity in the moment for a pot of stew.
The Jews have this beautiful tradition of Shiva, which means ‘seven’, in that mourning would occur for seven days of sitting and stillness after the burial. Imagine stopping life for seven whole days to mourn properly. For many Westerners, that would be a bridge too far, too hard, too scary a prospect.
As far as holding space is concerned, adopting something of Shiva is about respecting the timelessness of grief, that lingering longer in the space means overcoming our anxiety to be in control of the moment.
Yes, anxiety I’m reminded is a genuine interrupter. Certainly as the liminal space in the silent moments produces discomfort and gnawing awkwardness, most of us are tempted to break that precious silence.
Sacred moments much of the time are cheapened by words and certainly too many of them or the wrong kind—advice and other things we think ‘might help’.
I think we might all be surprised just how words can interrupt healing and even traumatise people.
But doing the work of the Spirit is getting out of the way, respecting that God is already there amid the pain, doing what only God can do.
Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Unsplash
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