The negative feedback I remember most from childhood was that I had a “sharp tongue.” I wasn’t a backstabbing mean girl, but boy could I slice a person in half with a biting observation. Every now and then, my brothers will recall the impact my words had on them, and I’m filled with shame at the hurt I inflicted.
Since then, life’s challenges have humbled me and deepened my self-acceptance, which in turn has grown my compassion for others. I rarely think the cutting thoughts I once did. When I do, I’ve learned to pause before speaking. I’ve come to see that both my observations and my voice can be powerful, and I often use them for good. But at my worst—when mad or scared—I am exacting and critical.
A sharp tongue is my particular struggle, but in my work as a psychotherapist I’ve learned it is just one of many ways communication can go wrong. Young or old, partnered or single, neurotypical or neurodivergent, almost everyone struggles with how they express themselves and how they hear others. On the micro level, these breakdowns lead to loneliness and heartache; on the macro level, they can escalate into bitter conflict and even war. The ability to speak truthfully while also listening generously may be one of the most important skills to cultivate in our homes and communities.
In my professional life, I learn about evidence-based approaches to communication and relationships. Models such as the Gottman Method, attachment theory, and dialectical behavioral therapy offer practical tools for helping people listen more carefully, speak more clearly, and repair conflict when it inevitably arises. These approaches have earned their reputation for supporting healthier relationships and more stable family dynamics.
But my spiritual life also offers profound insight into effective communication. The wisdom of the Christian tradition has been reflecting on human relationships for centuries—and in many ways, it keeps the core principles of communication remarkably simple.
Proverbs 10:19 gives the straightforward advice to speak less: “When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but the prudent are restrained in speech.” If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all, the saying goes. As a child, these words were a call to stop bickering with siblings. As an adult—and a parent—I hear them echo in a different setting: the weekday morning rush. The familiar soundtrack goes, “Get your hair out of your face. Stop dawdling. Why are we out of milk? Didn’t you go to the grocery yesterday?” It’s the classic nagging parent track, a role many adults fall into when trying to shepherd a household through the morning scramble.
But perhaps the wisdom of Proverbs is more complex than one person talking less. Often the endless stream of reminders emerges because one person feels responsible for holding everything together. In a healthier rhythm, the burden of keeping the household running doesn’t fall on a single voice. Instead, everyone shares the responsibility—children learn to prepare their things the night before, partners divide tasks, and adults model both accountability and flexibility. When the work is shared, the words needed to coordinate it often grow fewer as well. In that sense, speaking less isn’t about silencing ourselves. It’s about creating a family culture where fewer reminders are necessary in the first place.
Beyond curbing harm, good also comes from silence. Quiet opens space to listen to our fellow humans and to God. In the words of Mother Teresa, “The fruit of silence is prayer, the fruit of prayer is faith, the fruit of faith is love, the fruit of love is service, the fruit of service is peace.” Good can cascade from the simple choice to pause before speaking.
When we do talk, our faith asks us to speak mindfully. As Jesus instructs in the Sermon on the Mount, let your yes be yes and your no be no (Matt. 5:37). These words call us to keep communication honest and direct. And our actions should match what we say.
In family life, this principle shows up in small ways. If I tell my kids, “Keep up that fighting and we’re going home,” then I need to be prepared to follow through if the next shove comes. The same principle applies to positive promises. If I say, “I’ll play a game with you in 10 minutes,” I should follow through. Reliability builds trust more effectively than lectures ever could.
Mindful communication also means taking other people’s words seriously, even when they are younger or less powerful. If a child says, “I don’t like wearing jeans,” it may not be stubbornness but a real sensory discomfort. Listening carefully tells them that their experiences matter. And when children say extreme things in anger—“I’m never playing with you again!”—we can help them reflect on what’s happening beneath the words. Were they trying to express hurt? Did they mean what they said, or were they reaching for the most painful sentence they could find?
Learning to let our yes be yes and our no be no is a family practice. We try to speak honestly, listen generously, and repair things when our words cause harm. In the short run, that kind of mindful communication requires patience. In the long run, it builds the structure and trust that allow relationships to flourish.
Finally, we can look to the instruction of St. Benedict of Nursia in his sixth-century guide for monastic life. Benedict writes that an aspect of humility is to “speak gently and without laughter, seriously and with becoming modesty, briefly and reasonably, but without raising our voices.” To summarize: speak kindly, letting your tone uplift rather than tear down, comfort versus condemn, help instead of hinder. It’s not just what you say but also how you say it that matters.
Benedictine Sister Joan Chittister writes, “The way we communicate will determine the quality of our own lives as well as the lives of those we touch.” The ways we speak and listen shape the cultures of our communities. Long before we enter the wider world, we learn within our families how to take turns in conversation, contribute honestly, and make room for the voices of others.
We have a wealth of spiritual wisdom to guide that process. Scripture and tradition remind us that communication is not only about expressing ourselves but also about building relationships marked by honesty, restraint, attentiveness, and care. The habits of communication we practice at home quietly shape the kind of communities we create everywhere else.
This article also appears in the June 2026 issue of U.S. Catholic (Vol. 91, No. 6, pages 38-39). Click here to subscribe to the magazine.
Image: Adobe Stock/Jacob Lund
