Become a listener artisan

A few months back, I began corresponding on a semi-monthly basis with one of my closest law school friends, whom I haven't seen in close to fifty years. In one of his first missives, he made an important observation based on his career at Goldman Sachs and Blackstone: Every one of the most brilliant people he met — the one-in-a-thousand minds — was a superb listener.

Because each of them knew that no matter how smart or knowledgeable a person is, no one knows everything, and one can always gain from the knowledge and perspectives of others. As just one example: One of the keys to the George Washington's success as a general in the Revolutionary War was his openness to the suggestions of subordinates.

Prior to the second battle of Trenton, writes David Hackett Fischer in Washington's Crossing, "The discussion was freewheeling and its tone suggested that Washington wanted it that way. The suggestion to disengage from the British at Trenton and outflank them on the way to Princeton came from a subordinate officer and was adopted by Washington." By contrast, the British general Cornwallis imposed his plan for attacking Trenton "from the top down against the judgment of able inferiors."

BUT THE ABILITY to really listen to others is much more than just the gathering of information. It is the key to building relationships and to effective leadership. When we really listen to another, we affirm their importance to us, and that what they are thinking or feeling is important to us because they are important.

Any spouse who has ever interjected a comment or headed off in another direction while his or her spouse is relating a story — and who hasn't — knows what I'm talking about. That interjection will too often be experienced as a lack of interest in what is being said and bring the conversation to a close.

Part of the problem is that too often we are not so much listening and trying to absorb what the other is trying to communicate as we are waiting for our turn to speak. And that is felt.

So, too, when we are only half listening. I'm embarrassed to think about all the times that one of my children has called while I'm working at the computer, and they have asked me in the middle of the conversation whether I'm on the computer. Sometimes they even point out that they can hear the click-click of my typing. Again, the message conveyed is one of a lack of interest, or at the very least of other priorities.

I'M CURRENTLY WORKING on a biography of Rabbi Moshe Hauer z"l, the late executive vice-president of the OU. In almost every interview and in the written eulogies, his extraordinary attentiveness is mentioned. In private meetings, he invariably devoted part of the conversation to finding out what was new with the person with whom he was speaking and his or her family. The message was that the employee was important to him as a person as well as someone with a task in the organization.

He once told a son who had complained that he seemed distracted that if that ever occurred again, he should tell him immediately that he did not seem fully present.

When in a meeting he and someone else began to speak at the same time, he would stop and tell the other person, "You go first. I want to hear what you have to say."

Most highly intelligent people have a need to let others know how smart they are, and much of what they have to say is designed to make that point. All those who spoke or wrote about Rabbi Hauer after his passing remarked upon the fact that he felt no need to do so or to speak at all. And as a consequence, when he did speak, everyone present paid great attention, because they knew that what he had to say was germane to the matter at hand and reflected the careful attention he had been paying to everything that was said. Accordingly, he often spoke last, summarizing the various opinions expressed, with his own view of the matter at hand often carrying the day.

His lack of need to speak was a reflection of his humilty. It was almost impossible to get him to speak of himself, and certainly of his accomplishments. And that modesty — the lack of focus on himself, as opposed to the needs of the community or of the countless individuals to whom he devoted himself in his 26 years as a communal rabbi — drew others to him.

No quality attracts others more than humility. For they know the humble individual does not view himself in competition with anyone else. The only standards that matter to him are those he sets for himself, and thus he does not compare himself to anyone else or look down on those of lesser attainments. And as a consequence, others are comfortable in his presence and eager to work together with him.

Not by accident was the greatest leader the world has ever known described by G od Himself as anav mikol adam. And listening to others — truly listening — is a big part of that.

(COMMENT, BELOW)

JWR contributor Jonathan Rosenblum is founder of Jewish Media Resources and a widely-read columnist for the internaional glossy, Mishpacha, from where this was reprinted. He is also a respected commentator on Israeli politics, society, culture and the Israeli legal system, who speaks frequently on these topics in the United States, Europe, and Israel. His articles appear regularly in numerous Jewish periodicals in the United States and Israel. Rosenblum is the author of seven biographies of major modern Jewish figures. He is a graduate of the University of Chicago and Yale Law School. He lives in Jerusalem with his wife and eight children.