Learning from the Past

I speak fifteenth-century Spanish, known as Judeo-Español or Spanjolit, a language I learned from my grandmother. She didn’t know any other language. Up until the Holocaust, we lived in a Jewish ghetto where everyone spoke Judeo-Español. We were descendants of the Jews expelled from Spain in 1492 for refusing to convert to Christianity. We preserved the language for five hundred years. (I'm the last in my family who still speaks it.)

In the early 1970s, I was invited to conduct executive training for top executives in Monterrey, Mexico. At the time, I didn't speak modern Spanish, so I lectured in English with a simultaneous translator.

I dislike simultaneous translation. It slows down the delivery of my jokes, which I use to explain complex ideas, and translators don’t always share my sense of humor, making my lectures dry and dull. So, midway through my presentation, I asked the audience if they would mind if I presented in Judeo-Español. It was a bold move since delivering twentieth-century material in a fifteenth-century language isn’t easy. They graciously encouraged me to continue.

At one point in my speech, I noticed puzzled looks from the audience. I asked in English what had caused the confusion.

They explained that I’d asked if they "felt" me. I meant to ask  if they "heard" me. I had used the word "sentir," which means "to feel." In modern Spanish, the word for hearing is "oír" and to listen is "escuchar".

This misunderstanding led to an insight I want to share with you.

Five hundred years ago, hearing, listening, and feeling were all expressed with the same word: "sentir," meaning "to sense."  Today we have three words instead of one.

To me, this reflects that five centuries ago, people were more connected, more present. When someone heard, they also listened and felt what was being said. Today,  we hear but do not necessarily listen, or listen without feeling what is being communicated.

In less developed countries where people are less formally educated, they listen—they feel what I say. The more educated my audience, they hear me but don’t necessarily listen. They're probably mentally processing and perhaps debating with me internally what I said , making their minds unavailable to truly listen. The more educated we become, the more our minds are filled with knowledge that filters and blocks our ability to listen. To truly feel requires even more open mind presence. One has to stop thinking altogether. We need to close our minds to open our hearts.

Much to learn.