Let's talk about it
The importance of conversation in the midst of cancel culture
Last year, at the age of 24, I finally learned to drive.
My driving instructor was a chatty guy. His favorite thing to do was to point out where his past students lived. A constant refrain while we were driving was, “I’ve taught two students from that society. And two students from that one… And another one of my students lives in that society.”
We spoke in Hindi, a language I’m not fluent in, but he was patient with my grammar. One thing he didn’t like, however, was that I could never make it to class on Sundays.
“You need to practice every day,” he’d insist.
“But I have to go to church on Sundays,” I’d reply.
“Can’t you go another day?”
“I do, but I can’t miss Sunday.”
Being a Hindu, he couldn’t quite understand why going to Church on this day mattered so much to me. He also struggled to understand other aspects of my faith. “We Hindus worship all gods,” he would say frequently. “But you Christians only worship one God.”1
One day, while I was navigating a particularly tricky section of traffic, he brought up the topic again. “You know,” he began, “I really like Jesus. I think he’s a great teacher. I like what he said about loving others like you love yourself.”
“I think he’s a great teacher too!” I said, wondering where he was going with this.
“What I don’t like is that Christians do not believe in other gods. Only in Jesus.”
Ah, this issue again. I called on the Holy Spirit and thought hard. And then I said: “I think that when someone is a good teacher, we must listen to what he says. What do you think?”
“Of course,” he agreed.
“Okay,” I continued, “So… Jesus told us that He is the way, the truth, and the life. And nobody can go to God the Father except through Him. Now, He’s a good teacher, so I think I should listen to what He says.”
He thought for a moment. “That makes sense.” And he never brought it up again.
I don’t (and will likely never) know the outcome of that conversation. What I am happy about is that we had that conversation at all—that he was brave enough to ask his question and that I did not shy away from responding.
A Culture Afraid of Conversation
This moment stands out because we live in a culture that avoids real conversation, especially with those who disagree with us. On my college campus, I saw it firsthand—and even participated in it.
I remember completely avoiding classmates who had different political beliefs than me. The idea was that those types of people (who, by virtue of disagreeing with me, were “bad people”) did not deserve my time of day. As a result, my friends and I formed a neat little impenetrable echo chamber.
Then I reverted to my Catholic faith, and my political views changed overnight. Suddenly, I was the one being ignored.
Getting canceled by my closest friends was painful, but it showed me the ridiculousness of this conversation-averse culture. I realized that we value ideology over relationships. Friends become labels—“pro-LGBT”, “feminist”, “liberal”—and if they stop fitting those labels, the friendship ends.
This isn’t just a problem on one side.
In Catholic circles, “Trad Caths” will refuse to engage2 with “Lib Caths”, and pro-choicers are dismissed as “baby murderers.” I’ve even had Catholics refuse to talk to me for questioning their belief that all secular music is satanic.
It reminds me of a toddler throwing a tantrum, how they shut down until they get their way.
Well, that’s not how Jesus operated.
Jesus and the Art of Conversation
One thing about Jesus is that He went up to people and dialogued with them. The woman at the well. The rich young man. Nicodemus in the middle of the night. Even Pontius Pilate. Not once did He roll His eyes and say, “Well, if you don’t get it, I’m not explaining it to you.”
Pope Francis writes in Dilexit Nos (emphasis mine):
Whenever Jesus healed someone, he preferred to do it, not from a distance but in close proximity […] The Lord knows the fine science of the caress. In his compassion, God does not love us with words; he comes forth to meet us and, by his closeness, he shows us the depth of his tender love.
Jesus didn’t just speak truth—He entered into conversations. Think of the road to Emmaus, and how Jesus broke open the scriptures to them through conversation. Luke tells us, “As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them.” (Luke 24:15)
It was their conversation that summoned Him. It was their dialogue that He came to insert himself into, to challenge, to shift.
The Challenge of Dialogue
These days, it’s the dialogue that we shy away from. Maybe it scares us — because dialoguing with someone involves humility and vulnerability. It involves accepting that, although we might be sure of the truth, we might be mistaken about the other person’s experiences, reasoning and motivations.
It’s easy to destroy a strawman; it’s harder to dialogue with a person. To speak to their heart.
In my journey as a Catholic trying to bring others to Jesus, I’ve had many conversations—some great, some messy. But through trial and error, I’ve learned a few things about having meaningful, Christ-like dialogues.
Here are some tips.
Ask good questions
This is the defining characteristic that will distinguish us from a preacher. Too often, we mistake dialogue for a one-sided lecture. I’ve been on the receiving end of those, and every time, it made me feel like just another faceless listener.
Asking good questions shows our attentiveness and interest in what the other person is saying. It communicates that we are here to engage with them, that they are more important to us than the issue.
And sometimes, asking good questions leads to important discoveries.
I once met with a friend from college who wanted to change my mind about abortion. We met for beer and spoke for almost two hours. I remember preparing for the conversation by reading Persuasive Pro-Life and memorizing all the best arguments. But halfway through our conversation, I realised my friend was getting more and more agitated and emotional. I kept waiting for the triumph of being right to kick in, but it never did.
Finally, I went off script and said, “I can see that this topic is really personal to you. May I ask why?”
That simple question changed everything. She opened up about a family member who had an abortion. For her, the conversation wasn’t theoretical—it was deeply personal. I realized she wasn’t debating facts; she was defending someone she loved.
Asking questions kills assumptions and brings our hearts to the surface. It forces us to relate to one another, and to speak to the reality of someone’s situation.
Examples of good questions include:
“Why do you think that / How did you arrive at that conclusion?” — This invites more than a rehearsed slogan.
“What has been your experience with this topic/issue?” — People often argue about things that affect them personally. Ignoring this can cause unintended hurt.
“What do you think about what I just said?” — If you need to make a point, this question encourages a thoughtful response instead of a simple yes or no.
By asking good questions, we can transform a debate into a conversation. But we also need to listen—and listen well.
Practice active listening
The Peace Prayer attributed to St. Francis of Assisi states:
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
If we enter into a conversation seeking to change the other person’s mind, we’ve already lost. Nobody really wants their mind changed. It’s human nature to rebel, often just for the sake of rebelling.
Instead, I’ve found that it’s much more helpful to set a more realistic goal: To understand the other person completely.
You can see how this builds on asking good questions: we aren’t just asking questions that can lead the other person to a “gotcha” moment. Instead, we’re asking questions to know the internal experiences and reasons that have caused the other person to believe what they believe. It isn’t too different from when you walk out of a theatre, turn to your friend, and say, “So, what did you think?”
Active listening involves two things:
Actually listening, not just crafting your next argument in your mind while they’re busy talking.
Reflecting back what you’ve heard, in the fashion of, “So, what I’m understanding is…” Or “If I could summarise that…” And allowing them to correct your understanding if required.
When we listen actively, we also open a door for the other person to listen actively to us. A hypocrite would constantly interrupt their conversation partner and then complain when they did the same. But this way, you set a more positive tone for the conversation. And if you’re speaking to a decent person, well, they’re also going to actively listen to you.
Be a chill guy about it
I was once stopped on the streets of Pune by two women who wanted to talk to me about the Bible. It didn’t take me long to realize they belonged to a cult that believes a Korean man who died in 1985 was the second coming of Jesus.
My friend—who I had been walking with—and I decided to hear them out, ask some questions, and maybe put a pebble in their shoe. But the conversation quickly devolved into an emotional, argumentative mess. We were slinging Bible verses at them, and they were slinging them back, and it became clear that we didn’t agree with their interpretation, and they didn’t agree with ours, and it was just… chaos.
Finally, I cut through the conversation to ask, “What do y’all do?”
Cautiously, they told me where they worked. I commented on how Pune traffic makes commuting hell, which they happily agreed with. Before I knew it, we were talking about the city, and what we liked and disliked about living here.
The argument was diffused. We said our goodbyes. I think I may have even exchanged a hug with one of them.
Here’s the thing.
We aren’t going to “win” every conversation, and we sure as heck aren’t going to change anyone’s hearts. That’s the job of the Holy Spirit. And all those people you want to tell about Jesus? Well, Jesus is running after them way more than you can.
So, if people are attacking your faith and your beliefs, and you can’t seem to get through to them no matter how much you try, might I suggest… chilling out?
What being a chill guy means:
Not regarding this conversation as your last chance to change their minds about Jesus.
Realising that conversion is God’s work, and you are just an instrument.
Changing the topic, telling a joke, and stepping back before you get too emotionally invested.
What being a chill guy does NOT mean:
Refusing to engage in dialogue because “it’s God’s work, not mine.”
Being careless about what you say, especially when explaining Catholic teachings.
Ultimately it comes down to surrender and humility. Transformation is God’s work. He readily uses us as His instruments, but the buck stops with Him, not with you.
So we do what we can. And then we step back and say, “OK, Lord, now you do the rest.”
And that’s what being a chill guy is all about.
Being salt and light
I wrote this in my last newsletter, and it feels relevant even here:
When we view our “opponents” as people too depraved, too evil to dialogue with, we fail to bring Jesus into the situation. Jesus, who shielded the adulterous woman from being stoned to death. Jesus, who called even a tax collector to join him. That Jesus would scoff at our dismissal of these people. He would remind us that we are meant to be a light to the world—but we can only be a light by entering into others’ darkness. We can only be salt by entering into tasteless food.
from ‘Liberal Catholics: The call coming from inside the house’
I think a crucial but underrated part of being a modern-day apostle is the art of mingling. We must be close to people who disagree with us (provided they let us). We need to be able to count those people as our friends, to include them in our lives, and to share a close relationship with them.
We cannot do that if we constantly get into arguments with them or refuse to engage with them completely. We also cannot do that if, in our hearts, we regard them as depraved or evil. People can always tell when you’re just tolerating them. Good friendships come from an open and loving heart.
That’s where good conversations come from, too.
This is a common reproach by Hindus towards Christians: our monotheism is not something they can easily wrap their minds around. They find it close-minded of us to claim there can only be one God—ours. They also find it rude that we don’t partake in their rituals—attend their “pujas”, eat their “prasads”, and so on—when they don’t have any qualms about visiting a Church or praying at a shrine to one of our saints.
Here and everywhere else, when I speak of “engaging”, I mean conversing with in a meaningful sense. Jokes and sarcastic comments do not count as “engaging”. I know that plenty of Catholics do that.