Giving Voice by Listening (Vayishlach 5775)

How shy are you?  I used to think of myself as really shy.  I know from reading Susan Cain's enlightening book, "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Cannot Stop Talking," that I might be more introverted than shy.  

Cain writes, for instance, "extroverts are the people who will add life to your dinner party and laugh generously at your jokes.  [They] think out loud [and] prefer talking to listening." (p.11.)  Introverts, on the other hand, "wish they were at home in their pajamas. . . . [They] listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation" (p.11)  

Cain encourages us to recognize the nuanced differences between shyness and introversion.  Yet one thing that shy people and introverts have in common is quiet. Which often means that those who are shy and introverted are treated as if without voice.  One of the most powerful ways to give them voice is to stop talking and listen -- quiet ourselves to make space for their voice and then authentically listen. 

Many years ago returning to school after Thanksgiving I was in an airport.  It is one of the places that I feel especially shy and introverted.  I often  sit, for example, at a remote, empty gate in order to avoid the commotion at the gate for my flight.  For this flight I picked an especially remote gate because the airport was so crowded and I wanted the quiet.  A woman sat in the chair right next to mine.  Dozens of empty chairs and benches right near by and she sat right next to me.  

For a few moments I tried to ignore her; actually I resented the intrusion of her presence.  But when I quieted the voices in my own head long enough to look at her, I saw she looked tired and sullen.  I turned my focus from me to her. Her posture encouraged me to ask her how she was.  I turned to face her, invited her to say how she was, and listened intently.

She burst into tears with a story about the day after Thanksgiving being the funeral for father.  She was flying home with one book of his that was especially meaningful to her because her father had used a picture of the two of them as a bookmark.  But when she stopped to buy snacks for the plane someone broke into her rental car and stole her backpack.  Inside the backpack was that book and the picture.  Now lost forever.  She wept some more.  

Again, the voices rose in my mind about her experience.  But I quieted them long enough to ask her two questions and listen intently to her answers.  I asked how would she want her father remembered by others and how would her father's memory impact her in the future.  And then I listened.  After listening for what seemed like hours the woman thanked me for letting her give voice to her sadness.  

Which brings to mind the story of Dinah from this week's Torah portion, Vayishlach.  Dinah is a central character in the story.  She is a victim of a forceful violation which triggers her brothers to pursue violent revenge on Dinah's behalf.  Throughout it all Dinah is silent.  She is voiceless, says nothing. We don't know whether the source of her quiet is the trauma she suffers or whether she is shy or introverted or both.  On the face of the text, however, we do know that her silence is so deafening that no one invites her to share her story, no one asks her a question.  

As I recall the woman with a stolen backpack, I wonder if Dinah is voiceless because no one listened.  These two stories inspire me to ask for the strength to quiet the voices in my head and the wisdom to ask questions that will empower others to give voice to the stories of their lives.