For my money, one of the most fascinating parts of the human experience pertains to how much variability exists regarding how we perceive the world. We see the world differently from one another, and we are often surprised by this fact.
The ways that we differentially perceive what appear to be the same stimuli speaks to one of the most fascinating and important features of the broader human experience. The importance of the fact that we each have our own unique perspective on the world simply cannot be overstated.
In their renowned treatise on the nature of human social psychology, The Person and the Situation, Ross and Nisbett (1991) paint a portrait of humans as both egocentric—or stuck thinking that everyone sees the world as they do—and unempathic—often finding it difficult to truly appreciate the thoughts, attitudes, and feelings of others.
So often, we expect others to see the world as we see it. And we often are shocked when others’ reported perceptions of the world don’t match our own perceptions.
The Importance of Empathy in Relationships
Intimate relationships can be thought of as psychological unions—including not only the connections of two hearts, bodies, and souls—but also the connection of two minds. And when two individuals within a relationship (a) see things very differently from one another and (b) fail to demonstrate true empathy by at least validating and appreciating the others’ perspectives and feelings, both individuals suffer—as does the relationship itself. As I’ve written elsewhere, validating the feelings of one’s partner, which is a classic exemplar of true empathy, is a critical element of a genuinely loving and strong relationship.
Three Relationship Moments That Call for Empathy
It’s OK to disagree within relationships. In fact, it would be quite odd for some level of disagreement to not exist within a relationship. The trick is not only to accept this fact but also to truly realize (a) that one’s partner may genuinely see or feel very differently about something relative to one’s own perceptions and feelings and (b) listening, validating, and trying to understand one’s partner’s perceptions and feelings is truly profound in its importance in cultivating a healthy, joyful, and loving relationship. With this in mind, below are three moments that might take place in a typical relationship. For each moment, both nonempathic and empathic example responses are summarized.
Scenario 1: Your partner says that she needs to take a break from a home renovation project that you are working on collaboratively as she says that she needs to eat something immediately because she is starving. You both had a huge lunch less than an hour ago, and you are not hungry at all. You truly don’t get it.
Nonempathic Response: You explain to her that you just spent more than $50 on a feast for them and that you’re not hungry at all. It makes no sense that she’s hungry and that she needs to stop working. You literally find yourself saying aloud: You cannot possibly be hungry! And Are you serious?!
Empathic Response: You know that you don’t feel hungry, but you are not in her body, and you have no idea how she’s feeling. You wonder for a second why she would make up that she is hungry and then quickly realize that the best explanation probably is that she genuinely is hungry, in spite of having eaten an hour ago—for whatever reason. You put down your paintbrush and join her toward the kitchen.
Scenario 2: You are out to dinner with your partner and another couple. You’ve never quite gotten along with the other couple fully, but you joined to be a good sport. At the end of the meal, you tip 15 percent and sign the bill. The other couple looks over the bill carefully, and comments on how delicious the meal was as well as how wonderful the service was—not to mention the fountains and ocean views. They conspicuously tip 25 percent, look at your bill, and clearly roll their eyes, looking at each other as if you are such a cheapskate. On the drive home, you tell your partner how you perceived that situation and how it made you feel, generally implying that you are not interested in hanging out with them again any time soon.
Nonempathic Response: Your partner literally waves her hand and dismisses your concerns, accusing you of making the whole thing up. Apparently, she didn’t see that check-paying drama in the same way that you saw it at all. And she doesn’t really seem to care that you felt slighted. She tells you that you’re being overly sensitive.
Empathic Response: Your partner shows concern and a splash of confusion. She didn’t seem to catch all the nuances that you described whatsoever. That said, she cares about your feelings and deeply values your relationship. She asks you to describe your take on the situation and your feelings in more detail, making a point to make you feel heard and validated—even going so far as to imply that she thinks that you might want to rethink hanging out with that other couple more in the future.
Nonempathic Response: You find yourself telling your spouse that her reaction was truly unbelievable and that she has no right to feel envy in a situation like that. You point out that you and your family have plans to go to Europe in a few weeks and Disney before the year’s end. You shake your head and mutter under your breath that your partner is simply unreal.
Empathic Response: You tell your spouse that you noticed that she seemed a little upset upon hearing about your friends’ vacation plans.While you don’t find yourself feeling the same way as your spouse does regarding the situation, at least you now better understand her feelings and you express that to her. You realize that sometimes people just need to have their feelings validated and heard.
Bottom Line
Intimate relationships are not always strawberries and cream. People inherently see the world differently from one another. And the ability to respond empathically when disagreements arise can be challenging.
Hopefully, simply knowing that these hurdles are natural psychological hurdles to any relationship and that it is possible to make a conscious effort to take them into account in relationship interactions can be helpful for people looking to cultivate loving and healthy relationships.
Note: A version of this post also appears on Substack. I own the copyright to the content.
References
Ross, L., & Nisbett, R.E. (1991). The Person and the Situation: Perspectives of Social Psychology. New York: McGraw Hill.
More references
Unconditional Positive Regard
Unconditional positive regard (UPR) is unconditional acceptance, love, or affection. The term is credited to the humanist psychologist Carl Rogers. It differs from unconditional love in that there need not be actual feelings of warmth and affection behind the attitude. Rather, unconditional positive regard requires that a person be warm and accepting even when another person has done something questionable. While most parents attempt to give their children unconditional love, few grant their children unconditional positive regard. Many therapists advocate giving their clients unconditional positive regard as part of the therapeutic process. UPR is most notably associated with person-centered therapy, or Rogerian therapy.
How Unconditional Positive Regard Works in Therapy
The demonstration of UPR from a therapist can encourage people to share their thoughts, feelings, and actions without fear of offending the therapist. A therapist might simply ask a client to expand on why he or she behaved in a particular manner, rather than condemning the person’s action or inquiring as to how the other person might have felt.
Some therapists believe that UPR can serve as a temporary substitute for parental love that may help clients gain confidence to explore their issues. This belief is heavily influenced by Sigmund Freud and is not popular among contemporary mental health professionals.
Drawbacks of Unconditional Positive Regard
UPR can be especially problematic in couples counseling, where couples often desire a referee who will tell them when they are doing something detrimental to the relationship. When clients feel that UPR in therapy is contrived, it may backfire. For example, some people want a therapist to tell them when they are doing something wrong, to bring awareness to the behavior.
UPR can be difficult for a therapist to sustain, particularly when a person is making negative or unhealthy choices on a recurring basis. Consequently, many therapists attempt to strike a balance by remaining positive, upbeat, and nonjudgmental while at the same time pointing out when a person’s actions are harmful to himself or herself or to others.
Reference:
- American Psychological Association. APA concise dictionary of psychology. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 2009. Print.
Last Updated: 08-28-2015
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The Spirituality Of Listening (Eikev, Covenant & Conversation)
It is one of the most important words in Judaism, and also one of the least understood. Its two most famous occurrences are in last week’s parsha and this week’s: “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one” (Deut. 6:4), and “It shall come to pass if you surely listen to My commandments which I am commanding you today, to love the Lord your God and to serve Him with all your heart and all your soul” (Deut. 11:13) – the openings of the first and second paragraphs of the Shema. It also appears in the first line of the parsha: “It shall come to pass, if you listen to these laws” (Deut. 7:12).
The word, of course, is shema. I have argued elsewhere[1] that it is fundamentally untranslatable into English since it means so many things: to hear, to listen, to pay attention, to understand, to internalise, to respond, to obey. It is one of the motif-words of the book of Devarim, where it appears no less than 92 times – more than in any other book of the Torah. Time and again in the last month of his life Moses told the people, Shema: listen, heed, pay attention. Hear what I am saying. Hear what God is saying. Listen to what he wants from us. If you would only listen … Judaism is a religion of listening. This is one of its most original contributions to civilisation.
The twin foundations on which Western culture was built were ancient Greece and ancient Israel. They could not have been more different. Greece was a profoundly visual culture. Its greatest achievements had to do with the eye, with seeing. It produced some of the greatest art, sculpture, and architecture the world has ever seen. Its most characteristic group events – theatrical performances and the Olympic games – were spectacles: performances that were watched. Plato thought of knowledge as a kind of depth vision, seeing beneath the surface to the true form of things.
This idea – that knowing is seeing – remains the dominant metaphor in the West even today. We illustrate. When we understand something, we say, “I see.”[2]
Judaism offered a radical alternative. It is faith in a God we cannot see, a God who cannot be represented visually. The very act of making a graven image – a visual symbol – is a form of idolatry. As Moses reminded the people in last week’s parsha, when the Israelites had a direct encounter with God at Mount Sinai, “You heard the sound of words, but saw no image; there was only a voice.” (Deut. 4:12). God communicates in sounds, not sights. That is why the supreme religious act is shema. When God speaks, we listen. When He commands, we try to obey.
Rabbi David Cohen (1887–1972), known as the Nazirite, a disciple of Rav Kook and the father of R. Shear-Yashuv Cohen, Chief Rabbi of Haifa, pointed out that in the Babylonian Talmud all the metaphors of understanding are based not on seeing but on hearing. Ta shema, “come and hear.” Ka mashma lan, “It teaches us this.” Shema mina, “Infer from this.” Lo shemiyah lei, “He did not agree.” A traditional teaching is called shamaytta, “that which was heard.” And so on.[3] All of these are variations on the word shema.[4]
This may seem like a small difference, but it is in fact a huge one. For the Greeks, the ideal form of knowledge involved detachment. There is the one who sees, the subject, and there is that which is seen, the object, and they belong to two different realms. A person who looks at a painting or a sculpture or a play in a theatre or the Olympic games is not an active part of the art or the drama or the athletic competition. They are acting as a spectator, not a participant.
Speaking and listening are not forms of detachment. They are forms of engagement. They create a relationship. The Hebrew word for knowledge, da’at, implies involvement, closeness, intimacy. “And Adam knew Eve his wife and she conceived and gave birth” (Gen. 4:1). That is knowing in the Hebrew sense, not the Greek. We can enter into a relationship with God, even though He is infinite and we are finite, because we are linked by words. In revelation, God speaks to us. In prayer, we speak to God. If you want to understand any relationship, between husband and wife, or parent and child, or employer and employee, pay close attention to how they speak and listen to one another. Ignore everything else.
The Greeks taught us the forms of knowledge that come from observing and inferring, namely science and philosophy. The first scientists and the first philosophers came from Greece from the sixth to the fourth centuries BCE.
But not everything can be understood by seeing and appearances alone. There is a powerful story about this told in the first book of Samuel. Saul, Israel’s first king, looked the part. He was tall. “From his shoulders and upward he was higher than any of the people,” (1 Sam. 9:2, 1 Sam. 10:23). He was the image of a king. But morally, temperamentally, he was not a leader at all; he was a follower.
God then told Samuel to anoint another king in his place, and told him it would be one of the children of Jesse. Samuel went to Jesse and was struck by the appearance of one of his sons, Eliab. He thought he must be the one God meant. But God said to him, “Do not be impressed by his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. God does not see as people do. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7).
Jews and Judaism taught that we cannot see God, but we can hear Him and He hears us. It is through the word – speaking and listening – that we can have an intimate relationship with God as our parent, our partner, our sovereign, the One who loves us and whom we love. We cannot demonstrate God scientifically. We cannot prove God logically. These are Greek, not Jewish, modes of thought. I believe that from a Jewish perspective, trying to prove the existence of God logically or scientifically is a mistaken enterprise.[5] God is not an object but a subject. The Jewish mode is to relate to God in intimacy and love, as well as awe and reverence.
One fascinating modern example came from a Jew who, for much of his life, was estranged from Judaism, namely Sigmund Freud. He called psychoanalysis the “speaking cure”, but it is better described as the “listening cure.”[6] It is based on the fact that active listening is in itself therapeutic. It was only after the spread of psychoanalysis, especially in America, that the phrase “I hear you” came into the English language as a way of communicating empathy.[7]
There is something profoundly spiritual about listening. It is the most effective form of conflict resolution I know. Many things can create conflict, but what sustains it is the feeling on the part of at least one of the parties that they have not been heard. They have not been listened to. We have not “heard their pain”. There has been a failure of empathy. That is why the use of force – or for that matter, boycotts – to resolve conflict is so profoundly self-defeating. It may suppress it for a while, but it will return, often more intense than before. Job, who has suffered unjustly, is unmoved by the arguments of his comforters. It is not that he insists on being right: what he wants is to be heard. Not by accident does justice presuppose the rule of audi alteram partem, “Hear the other side.”
Listening lies at the very heart of relationship. It means that we are open to the other, that we respect them, that their perceptions and feelings matter to us. We give them permission to be honest, even if this means making ourselves vulnerable in so doing. Listening does not mean agreeing but it does mean caring. Listening is the climate in which love and respect grow.
In Judaism we believe that our relationship with God is an ongoing tutorial in our relationships with other people. How can we expect God to listen to us if we fail to listen to our spouse, our children, or those affected by our work? And how can we expect to encounter God if we have not learned to listen. On Mount Horeb, God taught Elijah that He was not in the whirlwind, the earthquake or the fire, but in the kol demamah dakah, the “still, small voice” (I Kings 19:12) that I define as a voice you can only hear if you are listening.
Crowds are moved by great speakers, but lives are changed by great listeners. Whether between us and God or us and other people, listening is the prelude to love.[8]
[1] See Covenant & Conversation on Mishpatim: “Doing and Hearing.”
[2] See George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, University of Chicago Press, 1980.
[3] This appears in the opening pages of his work, Kol Nevuah.
[4] To be sure, the Zohar uses a visual term, ta chazi, “Come and see.” There is a broad kinship between Jewish mysticism and Platonic or neo-Platonic thought. For both, knowing is a form of depth-seeing.
[5] Indeed, many of the great medieval Jewish philosophers did just that. They did so under the influence of neo-Platonic and neo-Aristotelian thought, itself mediated by the great philosophers of Islam. The exception was Judah Halevi in The Kuzari.
[6] See Adam Philips, Equals, London, Faber and Faber, 2002, xii. See also Salman Akhtar, Listening to Others: Developmental and Clinical Aspects of Empathy and Attunement. Lanham: Jason Aronson, 2007.
[7] Note that there is a difference between empathy and sympathy. Saying “I hear you” is a way of indicating – sincerely or otherwise – that I take note of your feelings, not that I necessarily agree with them or you.
[8] For more on the theme of listening, see above, Covenant & Conversation on parshat Bereishit, “The Art of Listening,” and on parshat Bamidbar, “The Sound of Silence.”
- What can words achieve that images cannot?
- How are words central to our relationship with God?
- How does listening lead to love?
These questions come from this week’s new Family Edition to Rabbi Sacks’ Covenant & Conversation. For additional interactive, multi-generational study, check out the full edition at www.Rabbisacks.Org/covenant-conversation/eikev/the-spirituality-of-listening/
With thanks to the Schimmel Family for their generous sponsorship of Covenant & Conversation, dedicated in loving memory of Harry (Chaim) Schimmel. Rabbi Sacks wrote:
“I have loved the Torah of R’ Chaim Schimmel ever since I first encountered it. It strives to be not just about truth on the surface but also its connection to a deeper truth beneath. Together with Anna, his remarkable wife of 60 years, they built a life dedicated to love of family, community, and Torah. An extraordinary couple who have moved me beyond measure by the example of their lives.
To learn more from Rabbi Sacks zt”l, please visit his website www.RabbiSacks.Org or follow @RabbiSacks on social media .
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