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There, I said it. I know that makes me a crazy person, or at least it makes me feel that way, because everyone I know is working out practically all the time. But I just don’t like working out – I don’t like how much time it takes, and no, it’s not always worth it immediately after.
One muscle that I am exercising a lot is this one: learning to understand people far different from me.
Since returning to the Mahoning Valley, I have had to work harder than ever before at understanding people; this is ironic, given that I grew up here.
I work in downtown Warren and rub shoulders with people of different races, different ethnicities and different socioeconomic classes all the time – there is so much listening for me to do on a daily basis. I also work with people significantly older than me (sorry, friends) and it takes a lot of listening to understand people 50 or even 60 years my senior.
To be honest, it takes a lot of listening to talk to practically anyone from the Mahoning Valley. We’re a weird bunch.
When I returned, I quickly realized how quirky we are here. Or maybe it just takes a lot of listening to talk to practically anyone from anywhere. Adulthood, I think, invites us to this task.
This weekend, the muscle of listening and understanding was exercised more than ever before as I spent four days inside the walls of Trumbull Correctional Institution.
I spent these days with 25 residents who signed up for a spiritual retreat I had the honor of joining. Though I had a lot of reservations about joining this weekend, it turned out to be one of the more exciting experiences of my life.
What I quickly came to realize over the course of the four days is that these men, who I thought I understood, were nothing like I imagined.
I went into the weekend with pretty clear categories for what a convict is like, and left with those categories completely shattered. I grew to really like and really enjoy the men I got to spend time with. I got to hear their stories, see what drives them, and hear their hopes for their futures.
To put it simply, my life was expanded in the knowing of these men. I left with a tension in my once-strong beliefs. Sure, these men have done something wrong and must be where they are. But when you listen to a story, you come to have so much more compassion, even love, for them.
This, my friends, is the result of good listening.
What I realized this weekend is that it’s dangerous to live a life in which your categories about a certain class of people – whether it be a person of a certain race, religion, lifestyle or background – go unchallenged. As we often say, assuming is dangerous because it makes a certain something out of you and me.
The problem is that, in the Mahoning Valley, our muscles of understanding and listening are weak and flabby. It’s why we can’t keep excellent leaders – they challenge our ideas, and so, we run them out of town.
It’s why we can’t take real steps to make our Valley thrive again – we don’t want to be told we’ve been doing it wrong, so we’ll keep trying the same old plans.
It’s why young people flee the Valley – because people younger than 40 should be seen and not heard (much less listened to).
Whether or not you are a praying person, you can flex this muscle of listening and understanding by recalling the words of a famous prayer by St. Francis of Assisi, in which he asks God’s help in learning to seek to understand before being understood. He also reminds us that in giving we truly receive.
To put it simply, this prayer reminds us of one simple fact: it’s not about me, or you. It’s about others. Our Valley will thrive to the extent we are able to learn this truth and put it into practice by listening – for it is in listening and understanding that we are expanded.
Tennant is a resident of Warren.