Slow Conversations - Rabbi Sandra’s Rosh Hashanah afternoon sermon

I have a favourite series of articles that I both love and hate simultaneously. It’s called ‘Dining across the Divide’, and it pairs people who have strong opinions on divisive issues, such as the impact of Brexit, police and institutional sexism, more cycle lanes versus cars, and I bet, soon also the role of the monarchy. The set up is divisive on purpose, as the introduction explains: “Our aim is to find out whether encountering someone with the opposite point of view can make a difference”. 

I love it because inevitably they discover that they have more in common than they think, but I resent it because I always read it with trepidation; is this the time where one walks out in disgust, where they discover they have no shared values and only their prejudices are confirmed? 

These articles are more of a social experiment than mere entertainment, based on a project pioneered in Germany by Die Zeit. Since then more than 33 countries, and 200.000 people have participated under a variety of monikers such as ‘Britain Talks’, Sweden Meets’, and ‘Disagreeing Together’ (Danish version) and so on.

We know we live in echo chambers or filter bubbles, that is something Brexit taught us, and these dialogue projects were set up in response to the effect that divisive politics was seen to be having on democracy across so many countries. With deep divisions created but few bridges built.

Yet, faced with the opportunity to meet others for an active conversation, hundreds of thousands of people lept at the chance. 

Jochen Wegner, who was part of the team behind the project explained that; “What matters here is ... Whenever two people meet to talk in person for hours, without anyone else listening, they change. And so do our societies. They change little by little, discussion by discussion… Not only with a stranger we are introduced to by a Tinder for politics, but also with a stranger in a pub or in a gym or at a conference”. 

This division seems to only have grown wider, as we face an autumn and winter in which many will suffer.  There’s a pervading feeling of discontent, distrust, and fear. We are exhausted having been pushed from pillar to post by one national and international disaster after another. The war in Ukraine, the cost of living crisis, climate change. The list never ends, it just changes.

On top of this, Covid has sped up a shift in how we meet as a society, we don't go to the office and have casual chats, or overhear random conversations on the tube/bus as much as before. The social and incidental experience of debate has been transformed by our increased experience of life online. Many more conversations now happen on social media and through messaging. These conversations are fast, sometimes furious, but rarely as complex, nuanced or deep as face to face. And sadly they are often not based on compassion or kindness. 

And when we do meet in person with others, we are often only partially present, for the other half of our brain is still thinking about something online, waiting for the next comment to a post, or a text conversation, always one eye on the phone which so many of us now leave on the table. We are involved in so many different things, all running in parallel; so much so that everything has become quicker, so that we now live our lives in snippets.  We have become fragmented, not whole.

And that is why I love the ‘Dining across the divide’ as it shows us that change is possible, that small acts like a deep conversation with a stranger can make a big difference.   

Jewish tradition loves this idea, we call it chevrutah, when two sit together to discuss, and pour over details for hours. Some even say that arguing like this might be our national sport. The Jewish conversational text par excellence, the Talmud, even argues that “The Torah isn’t sustained by one who studies on their own” (Ta’anit 7a)”.  Pirkei Avot, the sayings of the father goes even further, “…two who sit and have words of Torah between them, the Divine Presence is between them…” (Avot 3:2). And what is more, Torah does not have to only mean the five books in the scroll, it's an euphemism for Jewish values and Jewish life. We could even interpret ‘Torah’ to mean life learning, so that wisdom and connection is not sustained by someone who does not engage with others in conversation. A conversation in chevrutah can last for just a short time, or in some cases chevrutah partners may meet weekly for years. The length of the partnership does not matter as much as the intention, the way discussion with each other is approached. The understanding is that when two people talk together something fundamental is created. 

There is a contemporary name for these kinds of conversations, they’re called Slow Conversation.

“Slow conversations don’t mean talking slowly. Nor do they mean waiting a day or two to respond to something someone said. The ‘slow’ doesn’t refer to the time duration – either of the speech, the interval between each person talking, nor the duration of the conversation itself. They are not internet conversations. Slow conversations are conversations where the primary aim of each party is to truly understand the other person”. 

Slow conversations are based in compassion, on listening.  “Many times we think we are listening to the other person but really we are waiting for a space to say what we want to say. We are quick to assume we know what they are saying”.  To begin with chesed (compassion) and kindness, rather than another motivation is both freeing and hard. For we have to let go of our own issues in order to listen properly. And that is why we so often don’t engage, we’re afraid of what it might demand of us, we don't want to share, or perhaps bear someone else's story. We might worry about the reaction of the other, or we simply don't even know how to ask. 

Conversation in chevrutah can be a discussion and a sharing of disagreements, but fundamentally, it is a disagreement that is done together, to learn about and from another. In chevrutah we prioritise relationships over judgement over ‘being right’.

The pitfalls are of course many, which is why there's a strong counter cultural point in Judaism that encourages us not to just talk, but to limit our conversation: "Where there is much talking, there is no lack of transgressing, but the one who curbs the tongue shows sense.", Proverbs say (10:19). The rabbis were worried that too much talking could lead to gossip or other sinful behaviour, and instead advocated silence. But the Akedah shows us that not talking can also lead to disastrous results, the breaking down of the relationship between Abraham and Isaac, and between Abraham and God. 

Sometimes we need a bit of help to begin a conversation, a structure that supports us. For there are so many divides that seem hard to bridge, whether they are political, generational, financial or gender related. Rosh Hashanah and the next ten days is a good prompt to think about who it is that you really want to be having a conversation with.  Why not use this time for reflection to make space for a slow conversation, with openness and compassion.

There is another opportunity coming this autumn for having conversations and creating relationships, this time within the Chavurah. We are asking members to have a conversation with someone else from the community. It can be a phone conversation or face to face, depending on both the person calling, and on each of you.  We are seeking to make spaces for really listening, partly to see where the community is at, and what our needs are now, to ensure we continue to be a community that reflects the needs of our members. 

But it is also an invitation to have a full and open conversation with another person, one whom you probably do not know well or even at all. It may be less ‘dining across the divide’, but it is about creating connections with someone who you don’t know quite so well. We hope that making space for these conversations will help us to grow and create something new that is about more than just ourselves and our families. 

In a fractured, war torn and worried world like ours, having more slow conversations makes a difference. Whether such conversations are with strangers or friends and family, whether they are about politics and the deeply fraught state of our world, or whether they are about our personal experiences, hopes and fears, or perhaps just with a chavurah member to share your respective Jewish stories, a conversation based in compassion can change us little by little. 

In Proverbs it was said "Where there is much talking, there is no lack of transgressing…” but I think we can challenge that and say:

Where there is much compassionate talking, there is no lack of connection. 

May we find time in the year to come, to meet each other with compassion and openness, and may we create space for slow conversations to grow in our lives.

Ken yehi ratzon