Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
1
Difficult Conversations. We come to church seeking depth, connection,
acceptance. We come to church open, and hopeful. Whether we are coming
to worship on Sunday morning, to a class, a meeting, or a work party, we
come hoping that we will be seen, and heard, and accepted for the person we
are. And so, in church, it is particularly important that we speak and listen
with care for others, and with care for our own deep truths. Careful
conversations ask much of us: they can be deeply rewarding, and they can be
difficult. How can we learn, and support one another, in engaging in careful,
sometimes difficult, conversations?
Reading:
Message:
When our two adult religious education classes began meeting last month,
the first thing we did in each class was to create a covenant. “How We
Agree To be With Each Other,” we called it. Together we brainstormed the
things we wanted, or needed, and the things we were willing to promise to
do in order to feel at ease, and cared for, and even safe in this group. “Listen
respectfully,” we said. “Give everyone a chance to speak.” “Be mindful of
time” (by that, we meant let’s start and end on time). “Come prepared.”
“Use ‘I’ statements – speak from your own experience.” “Respect
confidentiality – check with me before you tell my story.” And then I asked
for something I’ve never before asked for in a group: “Please tell me if what
I say troubles you, or offends you, or hurts your feelings. Please tell me if
you disagree with me.”
Please tell me if what you feel – or see – is a snake, and not a wall.
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
2
Because then both of us together will be wiser than either one of us was
alone. Because pretty much everything we do in community, and in life, is –
more than we might want to admit – like trying to take the measure of an
elephant with our hands. Rarely, if ever, does any one of us have the whole
picture, the whole truth. What we know is so profoundly shaped by where
we stand, and by this I mean by the particular life we have lived, by the
particular events that are unfolding around us and within us at any given
moment.
This particularity, this difference and uniqueness of perspective, represents
both a danger and an opportunity. This I know from sixty-five years of
living in families and in society. This I know from fifteen years in ministry.
In talking about both the danger and the opportunity, I am going to speak
from my own experience, and speak in the first person, using “I statements.”
But I know that my experience is not unique, and I hope that what I say
resonates with you, and with your experience.
First the danger…
I know that sometimes something I say or do – or something I fail to say or
do – does hurt somebody’s feelings. Not because I meant to, but just
because my words touch a sore spot – often one I am not aware is even
there. Sometimes, someone hopes or wants or needs to hear something from
me, and when I don’t say it, or when I say something else instead, they are
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
3
disappointed, or frustrated, or hurt. Maybe you’ve had this experience too.
This is how I read the story of the blind people and the elephant – when the
second one says “it is not a wall, it is a snake,” the first one hears more than
a comment about the elephant. He hears a comment about himself – that he
is wrong. And that is why they end up shouting at each other! It’s not about
the elephant – not really. It’s about themselves, about their faith in
themselves, and in each other.
Someone who comes to church seeking depth, connection, acceptance,
someone who comes open and hopeful – may experience my different point
of view (or, your different point of view) as a refutation or a rejection of
theirs, and by extension, as a refutation or a rejection of them. They may
conclude that they don’t belong here – because they are not feeling affirmed.
Sometimes, in their disappointment or frustration or hurt, they may lash out.
“You are all wrong,” they may say.
Or sometimes, in their disappointment, they may withdraw – into
themselves, or out of the relationship. Perhaps you can think of somebody
you know or have known, somebody who used to come to church here but
doesn’t come anymore because of a disagreement, a disappointment, or a
slight. Because one time, or one too many times, they felt invisible – not
seen, not heard, not cared about or cared for. Because one time, or one too
many times, somebody said something that hurt their feelings, that felt like a
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
4
refutation or a rejection. Perhaps it’s happened to you, and you stayed away
for a while, or at least thought about it.
What I’d like to say next is that I never, never want to hurt anybody, or to
hurt anybody’s feelings. What I’d like to say is that if somebody only lets
me know when I do so accidentally, then we can make it right. I can
apologize, I can hear and understand what they need (or, what you need). I
can take their point of view – your point of view – into account, and we can
find the common ground where we can stand together. In this story, I’d like
to be the prince – the one who speaks gently, affirming everybody’s truth,
integrating wall and snake and spear and fan and tree and rope into one
elephant. I imagine you’d like to see yourself as the prince, too.
This is what I’d like to say, but…lo and behold, this, too is an elephant!
Although I’d like to be the prince in the story, in truth I am one of the blind
people. Rarely, if ever, do I have the whole picture, the whole truth. Rarely,
if ever, do I have the perspective to stand outside the argument, to see the
elephant whole. What I know is so profoundly shaped by where I stand, by
the particular life I have lived, by the particular events that are unfolding
around me and within me at any given moment. The only truth I can speak
with integrity is my own truth. And I truly believe that the same is true for
each one of us.
But herein lies the opportunity.
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
5
For even the prince first needed to hear the argument. First he needed to
hear about the wall, and the snake, and the spear and the fan. He couldn’t
put the pieces together until first he had the pieces. First each one of the
people had to tell, with clarity and with conviction, what it was that they felt.
I’m not sure I fully understood this at the time, but this is what I was asking
as we created our group covenants: hear my truth, and hear it as my truth.
Not as the truth, but only as a report of what I feel. And then, tell me your
truth, knowing that it will be different from mine. Tell me your truth before
you get mad, or before you withdraw. Let’s assume – always – that what’s
before us is an elephant, and that somehow it includes what you feel and also
what I feel. So tell me if you disagree with me – and then, together, we can
begin to assemble the elephant.
Together, we can begin to assemble the elephant.
This is, in fact, the core premise of this religious community.
“This house,” wrote Kenneth Patton in 1956.
“This house is for the ingathering of nature and human nature.
It is … an open room for the encouragement of our struggle.
It offers a platform … for declaring, both in times of security and
danger, the full and undivided conflict of opinion.
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
6
It is a house of truth-seeking, where scientists can encourage
devotion to their quest, where mystics can abide in a community of
searchers. …
This house is a cradle for our dreams, the workshop of our
common endeavors.
Our common endeavor is a search – for truth, for understanding, for insight;
for depth, connection, acceptance. It is, in truth, a blind groping to take the
measure of something much larger than ourselves, perhaps larger than any of
us can even imagine. This is not something we can do alone, none of us.
We need, first of all, our own unique perspectives. We need each other’s
perspectives, and the differences between them. We need communication,
conversation. And we need courage. This is no easy undertaking.
It is, in fact, countercultural. More and more in the First World, in America
at least, people are seeking out and creating virtual communities that reflect
and reinforce what they already know. In a recent radio podcast Jill
Abramson, a former executive editor at the New York Times, observed that
“people are getting so much of their news and information from places that
they agree with.” Podcast host Stephen Dubner concludes, “it may be that a
lot of us …want to be told a story that matches the story we are already
telling ourselves, about ourselves.” [http://freakonomics.com/2015/08/05/why-dowe-really-follow-the-news-a-new-freakonomics-radio-episode/].
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
7
In the realm of organized religion, people have long sought out communities
of like-minded people – those who see the religious endeavor the same way
they do, those who share the same vision and the same convictions about the
path to enlightenment or to salvation, the rites and rituals, the beliefs and
practices, the hymns and prayers, the speech and the silence. I daresay
everyone who goes to church, or synagogue, or mosque, or temple goes
seeking depth and connection and acceptance. “People choose churches
where they feel comfortable. Maybe they get challenges there, but they’re
going for the comfort,” says Kevin Dougherty, a sociology professor at
Baylor University in Texas. [http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2010/10/06/why-sundaymorning-remains-americas-most-segregated-hour/].
No wonder people withdraw. No wonder they go in search of another
community, where they will feel more comfortable. Where the story they
will hear will match the story they already know. We, on the other hand,
begin with the assumption that we will have different stories, different
truths, and that this is a good thing. “We, the Unitarian Coastal Fellowship,
are an intentionally diverse community,” we say, and we think this is a good
thing. “We are,” we say, welcoming of and enriched by people of varying
cultures, economic and ethnic backgrounds; by people of varying sexual
orientations, gender identities and family compositions; by people of all
races, ages and beliefs.” [UCF Welcoming statement, underline mine]. This is
profoundly countercultural!
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
8
But saying the words is only the beginning, and it’s far and away the easiest
part. Living it is much harder. Whether we are in class together, or in
worship on Sunday morning, or talking on the phone – or not talking on the
phone – when something I say or don’t say troubles you, or offends you, or
hurts your feelings, only if you tell me about it can I even know about it.
Only then can we begin to have the necessary conversation, the difficult
conversation that honors your perspective as well as my perspective, and
reaches beyond our differences to a larger possibility. (“It’s a wall.” It’s a
snake.” Wait…maybe it’s an elephant!)
I don’t pretend that the conversation will be always be easy. Even though I
have asked for it in those class covenants, I am here to tell you that it is not
easy to hear. It is absolutely true that I don’t want to hurt anybody’s
feelings. I’d like to think it never happens. I’d like to believe I can always
get it right – and when I don’t, it hurts to know about it. But sometimes,
someone tells me. Sometimes they will say, with clarity and with
conviction, what it is that they feel. I’ll be honest with you, my first reaction
is usually to want to withdraw. But I get past that, and I am grateful to you
for having the courage to speak your truth. Because what I know is that it is
way harder when we don’t talk about it. And what I know is that it gets
easier with practice, and it gets easier when we both know what’s going on.
When we can both understand that maybe – no, certainly – we see an
encounter, a conversation, a situation, a decision differently not because one
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
9
of us is right and the other one is wrong, but rather, precisely because we
bring to it different lives lived, different awarenesses and preoccupations,
different events unfolding around us and within us at any given moment.
And what I also know, from sad and painful experience, is that a real
conversation is impossible when someone, no matter how well-meaning,
attempts to speak someone else’s truth. Then we have a conversation about
the elephant, and not a conversation about ourselves, about our faith in
ourselves, and in each other. We have to be courageous; we have to speak
for ourselves.
If we are courageous we can see our differences, and the difficult
conversations that can grow out of them, as blessings as well as challenges.
If, and as, we practice engaging in these difficult conversations, what gets
cultivated and strengthened within each of us is not only the broader wisdom
that comes from our combined vision, but also the deeper wisdom that
comes from owning and affirming and speaking our own truth. From having
faith in ourselves, and in each other. And out of that will grow – will
grow…
…a house of friendships, a haven in trouble, an open room for
the encouragement of our struggle.
…a house of freedom, guarding the dignity and worth of every
person.
Difficult Conversations
Unitarian Coastal Fellowship
October 25, 2015
© Rev. Sally B. White
10
Take time now, in silence, to consider all that you have heard here this
morning, from within and from without, spoken and unspoken.
The bell will lead us into silence, and music will lead us out.
Bell
Silence
Music
May it be so.