One day at work last week, making a series of straightforward phone calls, one conversation stood out, not because of its content alone, but because of the emotions and beliefs it evoked. It was a dialogue filled with frustration, judgment, and deep-rooted opinions on some of the most sensitive global and religious topics.
The gentleman I spoke with was passionate, particularly
about the ongoing situations in Lebanon and Gaza. He was adamant in his views,
blaming Zionist Jews for creating the turmoil in the region. His stance went
further, touching on topics of religious significance, including the second
coming of Jesus. He believed that Zionist Jews and Zionist Catholics alike were
opposed to this divine event, and that God's punishment was imminent.
I listened carefully. There was a part of me that wanted to
respond with the same intensity, to counter his judgments, and argue against
his sweeping generalisations. But something inside told me to take a different
approach. I reminded him, and myself, that we don’t know when the second coming
will happen, and more importantly, that God’s judgment is far beyond human
comprehension. It is not for us to condemn entire groups of people, whether
they be Jews, Catholics, or any other.
The conversation shifted to politics and corruption. He
expressed disillusionment with leaders who don’t keep their promises and a
sense of hopelessness in a world filled with suffering. Once again, I responded
calmly, agreeing that the world is indeed imperfect. But I also shared my
belief that despite the negativity we often hear, good things are happening
behind the scenes—things that don’t always make it to the headlines.
Throughout this exchange, I felt torn. On one hand, I
recognised that he had valid points—about corruption, suffering, and the
complexity of the world’s problems. On the other hand, I felt uneasy with his
judgments about entire communities. I knew that arguing with him would only
escalate tensions, so I chose to focus on listening, offering gentle responses
where I could, but mostly allowing him the space to express himself.
What struck me most was how easy it could have been to fall
into old patterns of reacting and arguing with someone whose views clashed with
mine. But I’ve learned the value of stepping back, of recognising that not
everyone shares my beliefs, and that’s okay. I realised that sometimes, the
best response is simply to listen.
In this situation, I found solace in the idea of releasing
old patterns, of not letting them control me. It reminded me of the Guardian
Angel Aniel, whose presence encourages us to break free from outdated habits
and embrace a more peaceful path. I also thought of YEIAZEL, the heart angel of
the day, who brings divine consolation and comfort—a soft landing for the heart
in difficult times. Who also encourages us to listen.
This experience taught me that not everyone will have the
same expectations or beliefs about the future, especially regarding something
as profound as the second coming. It also reminded me that if I am unsure about
certain facts or beliefs, there is no need to argue—sometimes, it’s enough to
simply listen, to let others feel heard, and to trust that, in the end, it is
God who will judge us all.
Ultimately, this conversation reinforced an important lesson
for me: we live in an imperfect world, but we don’t have to let that
imperfection lead to division. Instead, we can choose to be patient,
compassionate, and understanding—even when we don’t agree.
Take a Moment to Reflect:
- Have
you ever found yourself in a conversation where you were challenged to
listen rather than react? How did it make you feel?
- When
faced with differing opinions or beliefs, what helps you stay calm and
compassionate?
- How
do you personally practice patience in moments of frustration or
disagreement?
- Do
you find comfort in the idea of divine guidance or the belief that unseen
good is happening behind the scenes?
Feel free to add your own comments and share your
experiences below. I'd love to hear how you navigate these moments in your own
life.
