Sounds of Silence
June 16, 2008
There is no need to go to India or
anywhere else to find peace. You will find
that deep place of silence right in your
room, your garden or even your bathtub.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
Silence is the language of God. It is also
the language of the heart. Dag
Hammarskjold
We need to find God, and he cannot be
found in noise and restlessness. God is the
friend of silence. See how nature - trees,
flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the
stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in
silence. We need silence to be able to touch
souls. Mother Teresa
A tired dust-covered seeker finally made
it to the mountain top hut of the spiritual
wise man. He asked the master, "How can I
find God?"
The master said nothing.
"Why don't you answer?" the traveler asked with irritation.
"I am quiet not because I could not answer," replied the master, "I am quiet because silence is the answer to your question. You see, silence is not the absence of noise, but the presence of the Divine."
It could well be different today. "Yes," said the wise man. "I do have the answer. It's in my best selling book of answers. Also on CD. And DVD. Available, on sale, on-line."
We all know that modern life is not a friend of silence. We find some kind of contrary comfort from noise-background noise, white noise or celebratory din. (Although. Volume does have its place, say Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird cranked up in the evening air.)
Our unease with silence does not surprise me. Silence is not easy. In my faith tradition, we had group prayer. And prayer time always finished when the talking stopped. The leader assumed that silence meant, 'time to close.'
I can understand why noise and busyness are bedfellows. There is the implicit assumption that we are adding something to our lives. And we bring God into the collusion when churches and places of worship become jitterbugs of activity.
Søren Kierkegaard's observation from a long time ago, is still applicable, "The present state of the world and the whole of life is diseased. If I were a doctor and were asked for my advice, I would reply: Create silence! The Word of God cannot be heard in the noisy world of today. And even if it were blazoned forth with all the panoply of noise so that it could be heard in the midst of all the other noise, then it would no longer be the Word of God. Therefore create Silence."
We know. Each of us knows the healing consolation of silence. That silence (in the words of Kim Sunee) can keep people afloat. That silence is the container for wonder and joy. Standing on the deck of a Washington State Ferry. The Olympic Mountains stand, regal, imperial, snow-capped and pristine against the cool blue sky. I look, and there are no words. I am speechless. And silence is the container for awe. Or the shaft of sunlight that pierces a dark overcast sky. Or lingering at a meal with a good friend, the moments of silence a reservoir of respect, understanding and gratitude, because the awareness of beauty and splendor and radiance requires stillness.
Why silence? St. Benedict's rule establishes a way of life that slows things down on the outside, so that the inside can come alive.
When we are friend of stillness, slowness and silence, we can see.
Hear.
Know.
Appreciate.
Receive.
Silence as a place of Grace.
We miss the point if we see this as a trick or technique. As a technique, we hope or try to add something to our lives. It is in silence, that we step outside of ourselves--our need for control, answers, and solutions. It is no longer about adding something. It is about recognizing that silence allows us to listen-to pay attention-to what is already there. To what Dag Hammerskjöld called, "a center of stillness (within us) surrounded by silence."
This week I watched a film--INTO GREAT SILENCE--that, actually, creates silence. Not just absence of noise, but inner stillness.
Nestled deep in the postcard-perfect French Alps, the Grande Chartreuse is considered one of the world's most ascetic monasteries. In 1984, German filmmaker Philip Gröning wrote to the Carthusian order for permission to make a documentary about them. They said they would get back to him. Sixteen years later, they were ready. Gröning, sans crew or artificial lighting, lived in the monks' quarters for six months-filming their daily prayers, tasks, rituals and rare outdoor excursions. This transcendent, closely observed film seeks to embody a monastery, rather than simply depict one-it has no score, no voiceover and no archival footage. What remains is stunningly elemental: time, space and light. One of the most mesmerizing and poetic chronicles of spirituality ever created, INTO GREAT SILENCE dissolves the border between screen and audience with a total immersion into the hush of monastic life. (from inbaseline.com) http://www.zeitgeistfilms.com/film.php?directoryname=intogreatsilence
And I read that The Retreat Association in Great Britain (www.Retreats.org.uk) is promoting STOP in the name of God, an annual quiet day in the third week of June.
I like it.
Here's their pitch: Amidst the noise and pace of workers, shoppers, taxis, tourists, beggars, road works, buses, police sirens, speeding ambulances etc. one can often still hear the chime of a church clock or tolling bell. Could there be here a call to another way of being in the midst of all the rushing energy of contemporary city living?
Or country living. It is Sunday Evening. I am sitting on my back patio. The air and sky is still. I am still. It is silent, save for the breeze through the trees, the gurgle of our stream on the rocks, and the distant sound of ABBA from my son's room. My shoulder aches from garden work. A good ache. The moon begins to rise in the southern sky. And I am glad to alive.
The master said nothing.
"Why don't you answer?" the traveler asked with irritation.
"I am quiet not because I could not answer," replied the master, "I am quiet because silence is the answer to your question. You see, silence is not the absence of noise, but the presence of the Divine."
It could well be different today. "Yes," said the wise man. "I do have the answer. It's in my best selling book of answers. Also on CD. And DVD. Available, on sale, on-line."
We all know that modern life is not a friend of silence. We find some kind of contrary comfort from noise-background noise, white noise or celebratory din. (Although. Volume does have its place, say Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird cranked up in the evening air.)
Our unease with silence does not surprise me. Silence is not easy. In my faith tradition, we had group prayer. And prayer time always finished when the talking stopped. The leader assumed that silence meant, 'time to close.'
I can understand why noise and busyness are bedfellows. There is the implicit assumption that we are adding something to our lives. And we bring God into the collusion when churches and places of worship become jitterbugs of activity.
Søren Kierkegaard's observation from a long time ago, is still applicable, "The present state of the world and the whole of life is diseased. If I were a doctor and were asked for my advice, I would reply: Create silence! The Word of God cannot be heard in the noisy world of today. And even if it were blazoned forth with all the panoply of noise so that it could be heard in the midst of all the other noise, then it would no longer be the Word of God. Therefore create Silence."
We know. Each of us knows the healing consolation of silence. That silence (in the words of Kim Sunee) can keep people afloat. That silence is the container for wonder and joy. Standing on the deck of a Washington State Ferry. The Olympic Mountains stand, regal, imperial, snow-capped and pristine against the cool blue sky. I look, and there are no words. I am speechless. And silence is the container for awe. Or the shaft of sunlight that pierces a dark overcast sky. Or lingering at a meal with a good friend, the moments of silence a reservoir of respect, understanding and gratitude, because the awareness of beauty and splendor and radiance requires stillness.
Why silence? St. Benedict's rule establishes a way of life that slows things down on the outside, so that the inside can come alive.
When we are friend of stillness, slowness and silence, we can see.
Hear.
Know.
Appreciate.
Receive.
Silence as a place of Grace.
We miss the point if we see this as a trick or technique. As a technique, we hope or try to add something to our lives. It is in silence, that we step outside of ourselves--our need for control, answers, and solutions. It is no longer about adding something. It is about recognizing that silence allows us to listen-to pay attention-to what is already there. To what Dag Hammerskjöld called, "a center of stillness (within us) surrounded by silence."
This week I watched a film--INTO GREAT SILENCE--that, actually, creates silence. Not just absence of noise, but inner stillness.
Nestled deep in the postcard-perfect French Alps, the Grande Chartreuse is considered one of the world's most ascetic monasteries. In 1984, German filmmaker Philip Gröning wrote to the Carthusian order for permission to make a documentary about them. They said they would get back to him. Sixteen years later, they were ready. Gröning, sans crew or artificial lighting, lived in the monks' quarters for six months-filming their daily prayers, tasks, rituals and rare outdoor excursions. This transcendent, closely observed film seeks to embody a monastery, rather than simply depict one-it has no score, no voiceover and no archival footage. What remains is stunningly elemental: time, space and light. One of the most mesmerizing and poetic chronicles of spirituality ever created, INTO GREAT SILENCE dissolves the border between screen and audience with a total immersion into the hush of monastic life. (from inbaseline.com) http://www.zeitgeistfilms.com/film.php?directoryname=intogreatsilence
And I read that The Retreat Association in Great Britain (www.Retreats.org.uk) is promoting STOP in the name of God, an annual quiet day in the third week of June.
I like it.
Here's their pitch: Amidst the noise and pace of workers, shoppers, taxis, tourists, beggars, road works, buses, police sirens, speeding ambulances etc. one can often still hear the chime of a church clock or tolling bell. Could there be here a call to another way of being in the midst of all the rushing energy of contemporary city living?
Or country living. It is Sunday Evening. I am sitting on my back patio. The air and sky is still. I am still. It is silent, save for the breeze through the trees, the gurgle of our stream on the rocks, and the distant sound of ABBA from my son's room. My shoulder aches from garden work. A good ache. The moon begins to rise in the southern sky. And I am glad to alive.
Poems / Prayers
Not Yet Tickled
How did those priests ever get so serious
and preach all that
gloom?
I don't think God
tickled them
yet.
Beloved - hurry.
St. Teresa of Avila
Little Gidding
If you came by this way,
Taking route, starting from anywhere,
At any time or at any season,
It would always be the same: you
would have to put off
Sense and motion. You are not to
verify, instruct yourself, or
inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to
kneel where prayer has been valid.
And prayer is more than an order
of words, the conscious occupation
of the praying mind, or the sound
of the voice praying.
Of timeless moments, So, where the
light fails on a winters afternoon,
in a secluded chapel.
With the drawing of this Love and
the choice of this Calling
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T.S. Eliot
God of stillness and
creative action,
help us to find space
for quietness today
that we may live
creatively,
discover the inner
meaning of silence,
and learn the
wisdom
that heals the world.
Send peace and joy
to each quiet place,
to all who are
waiting
and listening.
May your still small
voice be heard
through Christ, in
the love of the Spirit
Amen.
The Retreat Association
Peace,
Terry Hershey
