One of the things I don’t believe we’re all that good at doing is speaking the language of another. I’m not quite sure what it is, what the reason is. Is it pride? Is it arrogance? … unwillingness? I don’t know. But for some reason it seems like a significant part of the population feels no need to speak the language of someone else.
I wonder for a moment, if many feel it’s simply unnecessary…. “There here on my turf; they can learn to talk like the rest of us.” I get it. They came here. There are consequences that accompany that choice.
But please don’t mistake my point to be about the official foreign languages of the world. I’m not talking about German, Spanish, etc. I mean, if I choose to go to France, I need to learn to speak French. I can’t expect the rest of the world to accommodate me. In fact, I have some great American friends living/working in China, Russia, and Papua New Guinea. I admire that each is thoroughly invested in learning the culture and language of which they are immersed in. They know that if they are going to communicate with the people around them — really communicate — with the people around them — their audience — then they need to learn to speak the language of their audience. Knowing the language of your audience demonstrates empathy, showing deep respect for someone other than self.
I admit: this isn’t easy to learn. It means I put communicating with another person over the right to rant and rave in my own language. We so like to rant and rave.
But what if the ranting and raving only pushes people away? What good is it? Is it simply an exercise in emotional venting or vomit? (Sorry, but “vomit” was really fun to write right there…)
I want something more. Sorry. But yes, I want something more. I want to really connect with other people. I want authentic fellowship. I want to learn from the UN-likeminded. I want to encourage. I want to be mutually sharpened. And I want to find solution to some of these nagging, ongoing problems, rather than demand everyone think like me. The first step in doing that is connecting with other people. The first step in connecting with other people is learning to speak their language.
Is their tone more gentle?
Is it more conservative?
Is it more liberal?
Is it more respectful of faith?
Is it more vulgar?
And am I willing to sit and speak their language? Or do I just get too hung up in the language itself?
Years ago I had opportunity to spend some time at a summer camp for teens and young adults with special needs. It was a beautiful, unusual, eye-opening weekend. As a person who would became the parent of a special needs child, I would later reflect upon this time as invaluable.
It is very important when learning to effectively interact with persons with special needs to communicate authentically. If we are going to make a difference… if we are going to connect… If we are going to communicate in such a way that spurs both of us on… then we need to communicate clearly. But let’s face it: we need to speak their language, ceding all thoughts and judgments of our own.
Their was one young man who especially caught my eye that weekend. He was active. He worked. He liked to be with people. He would even dance. While his facial expressions never changed from anything other than seemingly somber, I loved communicating with him. Communicating with him meant spurring him on to tasks and accomplishments he (and others) once deemed impossible.
But this young man spoke a language far different than me. In fact, he actually spoke very little. When he did say something, it was a single word. That word was only expressed in moments of intense emotion; it could be grief, frustration, or even joy. I loved it when he said it — because it meant he was being transparent, trusting us with how he felt, letting us know his emotions were deep. But the only way authentic communication was possible was if I surrendered my right, my thinking, and my judgment, that he should talk and think exactly like me. Remember: it was a single word…
“Shiittt”, he would calmly utter. Almost dead panned. It was his only word… from cutting his knee to cutting it up on the dance floor. It was the only word I ever heard him say. Yet how thankful I was, that this young man was willing to communicate with me. A privilege, without a doubt.
May we always be willing to speak and understand the language of another more than self.
Respectfully…
AR