Author: Thomas J. Salerno

  • 3 Ways to Practice the Art of Listening

    3 Ways to Practice the Art of Listening

    Photo courtesy of Cathopic

    Anyone who knows me well can tell you that I’m a very opinionated person. While I pride myself on being open to considering different points of view, the truth is, I still struggle mightily with listening to other people. However, I was recently reading the book by Mother Mary Francis, P.C.C.,But I Have Called You Friends: Reflections on the Art of Christian Friendship and I came across the following passage, which made an immediate impression on me: 

    “The person of intelligently strong convictions is ready to have them modified, expanded, or changed according to the counterevidence presented. Any persons of opposite convictions are friends to be listened to, not enemies to be warded off.”

    As I read and reread that paragraph several times, I became decidedly uncomfortable. I began to ponder how often my convictions have gotten in the way of treating people with charity, even family members. My parents enjoy watching cable news. I do not. “Hot button” political issues tend to get my hackles up, so if I’m in the room when the talking heads happen to be on the TV, arguments too often break out. The question of student loan forgiveness, for example, has provoked more than a few heated exchanges. My immediate impulse when contradicted, is to get defensive or go on a counterattack. 

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    In our 21st-century outrage culture, the art of listening is so important but is rarely practiced. Sadly, none of us is immune to the temptation to scapegoat people, whether family members or total strangers. It can be too easy for me to label people who don’t share my political convictions, religious beliefs, or cultural presuppositions as “enemies.” When I fail to treat the opinions of others with respect, empathy is quickly lost. 

    There’s nothing wrong with holding strong convictions or defending your principles. Respectful listening doesn’t mean that you remain passive or completely disengage from a debate. Authentic dialogue is a form of active listening. True respectful conversation can be learned by doing it, through patient practice. I’ve found three simple and practical strategies that have been immensely helpful in keeping me mindful of my biases and of the respect owed to those who don’t share my opinions.

    LISTEN: How to Have a Crucial Conversation

    1. Be present

    The first step in learning to listen is to eliminate distractions and simply be present. I can’t count how many times I’ve failed to be truly present in a conversation or debate. We’re all addicted to our smartphones these days, and when someone else is speaking, I can be sorely tempted to take out my phone and scroll through my social media feed or check my email. Not only is this an incredibly rude thing to do, but also I’m robbing myself of the chance to learn — to truly understand a different perspective from my own.

    2. Don’t interrupt

    “A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing personal opinion” (Proverbs 18:2). Ouch! Personally, this biblical one-liner hits a little too close to home. I’m a self-identified chatterbox and I know quite well that I have a bad habit of interrupting during conversations, trying to finish other people’s sentences or jumping in early with my counterarguments. This is disrespectful and a form of pride — many of us like to hear ourselves talk! Respectful silence shows that you value your discussion partner and are truly interested in what they have to say. 

    3. Ask questions

    Unless you ask questions, you’re not making enough of an effort to understand someone else’s position. If someone puts forth an argument or an assertion that makes my blood boil, my habitual reaction is to go on the attack. But when I began to slow down and ask questions (“Why do you believe that?” or “Could you please tell me more about your feelings on this?”) I found it easier to keep my emotions in check. I’ve even tried to rephrase my counterarguments in the form of questions. (“Have you considered this perspective?”) This kind of measured response signals respect for the opposing point of view. 

    RELATED: Learning and Listening: Identifying My Blind Spots and Committing to Growth

    True understanding

    If, while the other person is speaking, you’re preoccupied with coming up with a witty rejoinder, or if you start interrupting, or if you retaliate without asking any questions, then you’re not making the effort to listen or cultivate genuine mutual understanding. Listening to understand rather than to respond is difficult, but it’s worth it. The epistle of St. James admonishes Christians to remain modest and restrained in speech: “You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). 

    Honestly, I’m still a work in progress when it comes to keeping my temper during intense discussions. But I have begun to notice changes for the better. My family in particular, have commended me for the fact that I now make a point of keeping my cell phone in my pocket during conversations. They’ve noticed that I interrupt less and ask more questions. Our talks about current events have become more engaging and mutually fruitful, as we try to understand one another rather than simply “win” an argument.

    Also, as I’ve made an effort to understand perspectives other than my own, my worldview has started to become less cramped and insular. I’ve learned to stop labeling people of different beliefs as “enemies” (or worse “sinners”) whose views can be easily discounted. After all, they are fellow children of God with infinite dignity who should be respected and loved. 

    As the scribe correctly responds in Mark’s Gospel, “‘to love [God] with all your heart, with all your understanding, with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself’ is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices” (Mark 12:33).

  • How I’m Learning to Stop Comparing Myself to Others, With the Help of Humility

    How I’m Learning to Stop Comparing Myself to Others, With the Help of Humility

    Man holding his face looking at laptopThis past New Year’s Eve, I decided it would be helpful to compose a year-in-review post for my personal blog detailing my accomplishments as a freelancer in 2021. I was initially pleased with the overview, because the list of achievements seemed impressive: I had 32 articles published (one of which was spotlighted by an influential Catholic publication and later appeared anthologized in book form), I helped to edit two comic book issues, and I appeared as a guest on five podcasts! This all followed my decision to pursue my dream of being a creative writer back in 2020 when my internship as a lab assistant in a natural history museum ended abruptly during the height of the pandemic. My leap of faith appeared to have paid off, and on the surface I seemed to have much to be grateful for. But instead, my satisfaction quickly gave way to depression and disappointment.

    When I compared myself to other writers I knew who seemed, from my vantage point, far more successful and prolific, I felt like a failure. I began to wallow in self-pity and resentment: I had worked so hard for nearly two years! Why wasn’t I more successful? Why didn’t more people appreciate and recognize my work?

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    At around this time, my mom recommended that I read Fr. Robert Spitzer’s book “Finding True Happiness.” I dove right in, and soon found that Fr. Spitzer understood exactly the kind of emotional whirlwind I was going through. Because many of us tend to classify ourselves and our peers in terms of “winners” and “losers,” we end up coupling our own self-worth with our relative level of worldly success, or perceived lack thereof. This emotional trap is called “the comparison game” and, as Fr. Spitzer explains, it can have dire ramifications for one’s spiritual life: “As the list [of accomplishments] grows more important for defining our self-worth and identity, we will make humility, compassion, virtue, self-sacrifice, and empathy less important.”

    As I read this, I was reminded starkly of the Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:3-9), in which Jesus speaks of the thorns and brambles – “the cares of the world and delight in riches” – which grow up and choke the life of grace that God desires to bestow on us. By indulging in the comparison game, I had allowed self-defeating emotions and behavior patterns to strangle the joy and passion out of my creative pursuits! I would scroll through Twitter with envy, begrudging the apparent success of other young writers. Writer’s block hit me like a ton of bricks and my words seemed inadequate and stale.

    RELATED: 7 Simple Ways to Find Humility

    Like a rigged casino machine, you cannot “win” the comparison game; the only way out is to stop playing. I learned that the key to breaking the loop of self-centeredness and pride is to cultivate an attitude of service and the virtue of humility. My goals as a writer needed to be completely reoriented away from a desperate scramble for approval and towards a humble acceptance of God’s will. This change of perspective has not been an overnight conversion, but is an ongoing process of healing and discernment. One helpful devotion that I recently began practicing is the Litany of Humility. When I was introduced to this prayer years ago, I was initially put off by it, especially by petitions such as:

    “That others may be praised and I go unnoticed,

    Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.”

    Why on earth would I ask God that I be unnoticed, overlooked, forgotten? It seemed absurd! At that time, I wasn’t ready to receive the meaning of these challenging words. But now I understand that I was unwittingly playing the comparison game. By actively praying for the gift of humility, I am allowing God to get to work uprooting the weeds of selfishness, envy, and resentment in my heart so that, if I cooperate with his grace, humility and charity can begin to take root like seeds that fell on good soil.

    Originally published May 13, 2022.

  • Pray, Fast, Give: My Decision to Part with a Possession Each Day of Lent

    Pray, Fast, Give: My Decision to Part with a Possession Each Day of Lent

    Young man sitting on orange couch opening a cardbox boxOne of my favorite little moments from J.R.R. Tolkien’s fantasy masterpiece “The Lord of the Rings” is when the ranger Aragorn returns to Pippin a treasured brooch that the hobbit had cast by the wayside as a clue after he and his cousin Merry were captured by the evil orcs. “It was a wrench to let it go,” said Pippin, “but what else could I do?” Indeed, if Pippin had not had the good sense to drop the brooch, his friends might never have known that the two young hobbits were still alive at all. Aragorn confirms that Pippin made the right choice, saying that “one who cannot cast away a treasure at need is in fetters.”

    I find this exchange so powerful because it often reflects my own experience. Parting with possessions, even those that I no longer need or use, can be a truly wrenching task. There are times when I feel like my possessions really possess me. Yet when I ask God for the strength to let them go, I know at once that I’m doing the right thing.

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    It’s true that, as a Catholic layperson, I have no obligation to take a vow of poverty like a professed religious brother. And yet, as a disciple of Jesus Christ, I am called to live simply and modestly, prioritizing people over possessions. More often than I would like, I find myself emulating the rich young man who encounters Jesus in Mark’s Gospel. When Jesus invites him to sell all he has and become a disciple, the youth “was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions” (Mark 10:22). Like that poor soul, I time and again find myself a prisoner of my possessions.

    Thank God that the Church gives us the season of Lent! Lent can be a powerful, intentional time of conversion, a time to reorient my spiritual life and sacrifice those things that have become obstacles and stumbling blocks on my personal walk with God, holding me back from pursuing a more authentic path of discipleship.

    As Ash Wednesday approached this year, I realized that I could make my process of decluttering into a Lenten blessing, an opportunity to examine what my spiritual priorities truly are, as well as an opportunity to practice almsgiving and help the less fortunate through the corporal works of mercy.

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    When I was out on a walk around my neighborhood thinking over all these things, I had a flash of inspiration: I would collect 40 of my unused or lightly used items and donate them to charity — 40 items for the 40 days of Lent! Of course, this is hardly an original idea (honestly, I can’t remember where I first heard about it) but I believe that it is what God is calling me to do this Lent. I didn’t even wait for Ash Wednesday to begin putting my plan into practice!

    About half of the items I’ve collected for donation so far are clothing. On a recent episode of the “Word on Fire Show”, Bishop Robert Barron said that cleaning out the closet can be a very good way to make an examination of conscience.

    Admittedly, I felt a bit defensive when I heard that. “Well,” I thought, “maybe that’s true for other people, but I certainly don’t have that many unused clothes.” But when I searched through my bedroom closet a few weeks ago, I got a sobering reality check: I found many items of clothing that I wasn’t wearing because they no longer fit, and more than a few pieces that I had bought on impulse and had simply never worn at all. I put all these aside into a big bag to donate to my parish’s Lenten clothing drive.

    Besides clothing, the bulk of the items I’ve chosen to give away are books. I’ve written before about my struggle to downsize my enormous book collection. When I’m being brutally honest with myself, I know that many, if not most, of the books I own are titles that I’ll never read again. I either hang onto them for sentimental reasons or because I fool myself into thinking that I will need them for some vague “writing project” that I may (or may not) do in the future. The time had come to seriously cull my book collection. So far, I’ve managed to almost fill up three banker’s boxes with books to donate to my local library’s charity book drop! But this was not an easy accomplishment.

    RELATED: How Decluttering My Office Created Space for New Career Goals

    At one point, I was just stuck; I couldn’t seem to part with any of my books no matter how hard I tried. I kept putting them back on the shelf. Then I remembered one of my favorite Catholic podcasters, the Dutch priest Fr. Roderick Vonhöge, who often shares insights into his own decluttering process on his podcast “The Walk.” So I started listening to an episode where Fr. Roderick revealed how he’s been incorporating prayer into his efforts at decluttering. He found that praying over each unwanted object, and specifically giving thanks to God for its former usefulness, made it easier for him to let go of things cluttering up his workspace. 

    This insight changed my whole perspective on parting with my books, and I adapted Fr. Roderick’s practice into my own three-part prayer: As I took each book off the shelf, I first thanked God for sending that book into my life when he needed it. Second, I asked God to bless the person who would receive this book now that it was no longer useful to me. And third, I made an act of trust that God will provide for all my future needs. This was a liberating experience that allowed me to donate far more books than I thought possible before!

    There are still several more weeks of Lent to go, and I know I’m just beginning this journey of conversion. I’m just starting to form a better relationship with my possessions that reflects my primary calling as a child of God and a disciple of Jesus Christ. With the help of prayer and trust in God’s grace during this holy season, I’m certain I’ll make progress.