© WanHee Yoon, (Letter from the Parsonage, #21, LA Christian Today, August 15, 2001)

There are times when, after a long conversation, we walk away thinking, “What a waste of words.” Even when both parties seem engaged and passionate, hoping for a constructive conclusion, if the other person remains unmoved—insisting only on their own point—we hesitate to open our hearts again.

Yet even with someone we’ve just met, if they listen with sincere attention, we remember that encounter as joyful and meaningful. The ability to truly listen is a gift. Even in the world of insects and animals, we often see mutual cooperation built on the order of listening.

In the height of summer, after the monsoon rains, a sound rises from the rice paddies and fields: the chorus of narrow-mouthed toads. As rain pours over forests and meadows, puddles form, and these toads—living in the damp underbrush—gather in the muddy water to sing their unrestrained serenade of love, bringing summer to its peak.

What we hear as “maeng-kkong, maeng-kkong” is not the voice of a single toad, but a chorus of several, each listening and responding to the others. The males must find mates before summer ends, and the rainy season is their golden opportunity. When one calls out “maeng-maeng-maeng,” another answers “kkong-kkong-kkong,” signaling their presence to distant females. If a nearby toad doesn’t realize the other is already calling “maeng-maeng-maeng” and repeats the same, the first quickly switches to “kkong-kkong-gong” to maintain harmony.

They take turns in a three-beat rhythm—one side pausing to breathe while the other sings. With gentlemanly order and collaborative effort, they call through the night, drawing females from all around for a wedding feast.

Reflecting on this, we realize how blessed it is to truly listen to one another—like the toads’ duet of “maeng” and “kkong.” Yet in today’s fast-paced, hyperconnected world, listening has become increasingly difficult. Wives plead for their husbands to hear them. Husbands feel frustrated that their wives don’t listen. Children, feeling unheard by their parents, turn to friends who will.

Dale Carnegie once said, “You can make more friends by listening with your ears than by speaking with your mouth.” He illustrated this with dogs: “When dogs see people, they wag their tails and approach with joy. They signal welcome and delight in your presence. If you pet them, they leap with excitement and lick your hand in gratitude. Because dogs consistently show warmth, they quickly become close friends to people.”

In human relationships, few things are more important than listening. True listening is not just hearing words—it is placing your ear to another’s soul, opening the door of your heart. Even if we already know what’s being said, the act of listening is a transparent echo of the soul, as sacred as prayer.

So today, do I only want to speak my own story? Or do I long to hear the cries of those I love?

Remembering the wisdom of summer toads, I pray once more: Before I speak, Lord, grant me the blessing of listening.