“Let silence take you to the core of life.”
― Rumi
What is your relationship with silence?
How do you feel about silence?
How do you react to silence?
Do you prefer sound or silence?
I am not a loud person. Don’t get me wrong, I can be loud. I can project my voice well when I speak in public. I laugh loudly. When I engage in friendly debate, my voice often, and of its own, becomes loud (unfortunately this has turned more than one debate partner off, since it appears that I am becoming angry or frustrated--too vehement for friendly discussion). At times, in the car or at home, I crank the music up loud, and try to overcome it with my own voice singing out. I usually sing loud in the shower, once filling a south-side Chicago apartment courtyard (at the same time delighting and embarrassing--and probably annoying--my neighbors) with reverberations of Bing Crosby. My life is busy, and filled with people. It is not unusual for my ears to constantly be engaged during the day, and my voice engaged almost as much. I listen a lot. I speak a lot. Therefore, my life is full of noise--and I say this not to disparage the voices of others, whose stories I love to hear.
And yet, I am a quiet person. The music I listen to most often is quiet, even when I turn it up loud. My voice is soothing enough that even when the volume goes up, it does not always come off as loud in the same way that a screeching or booming voice might. Even when I am angry, my anger is usually conveyed through a smoldering silence, and hushed, firm tones--only occasionally erupting in some indignant or protesting roar. When I am with others, I am not uncomfortable with those silences that naturally interrupt conversation.
And when I am alone, silence does not bother me either. I can drive for hours, forgetting to turn on the car radio or disc player. And when I am at home or work, I can be working on something in complete silence, unencumbered by it. Music or podcasts would not be distracting. In fact, in college, my favorite spot for studying was Java 101, the coffee shop connected to the library. I needed the noise of a busy cafe to help me to focus. The library was too quiet. Perhaps is I turned on music more at the house or work, I would not be so distracted...and I would be more productive.
In any event, I think that my life may have more silence in it than most. At least, a close friend recently indicated that such might be true. I have a good relationship, I think, with silence. A good balance of noise and quiet in my life.
What is your relationship with silence?
How do you feel about silence?
When are you silent, and when are you not?
How do you react to silence?
Do you prefer sound or silence?
I wonder, my Dear Reader, how YOU would answer these questions, looking honestly at your own life, and critically assessing your own habits and emotions surrounding silence. As you ponder, I offer the following meditation:
Silence, without Idleness, is just more noise.
I am greatly annoyed when spiritualists and gurus of whatever ilk speak about silence. I agree with them that silence is, indeed, important, that it nourishes the soul. But they do not stop with silence, but keep going. I generalize, but I feel it is accurate: when these spiritual “guides” commend silence to their following, they lay silence out as another task. Silence, almost without exception, is for listening.
Some say we need silence to listen to God. Others say the same thing, only substituting “God” with the word “body” or “self” or “soul” or “mystical being” or “spiritual self” or some such dim equivalency. The call to silence is reduced to a reminder merely to listen, an injunction to stop making noise so that you might be able to hear other noises.
But silence is quite enough, in and of itself.
Silence is enough apart from listening.
In fact, whenever one is listening, silence does not exist.
We listen to God when we read or hear read scripture. We are listening to God when that Word is proclaimed in worship--in prayers, hymns, sermons, sacraments and the whole liturgy. We are listening to God, when we listen to others, particularly when we are straining to understand the deep joys, needs and hopes of a person’s life. We are never listening to God in silence. Nor should we ever listen for God in silence.
Silence is meant for something else: being; resting; integrating; communing--these are the best words I can use to describe what I am driving at.
God appeared to Elijah as sheer silence (1 Kings 19:1-15a). At first Elijah was looking for something, something awesome and spectacular. We today do not expect to see bright lights shrouding a supernatural being in majesty. Many even consider this a childish view of God, and an immature expectation of God’s presence in the world. We learned from Elijah on that point: God isn’t going to come visibly, at least not with movie-like special effects.
But then, Elijah expected God’s appearance to be accompanied by some disturbance. If not a visual disturbance, than an invisible one. Elijah expected God in thunder, when the lightening didn’t come. Elijah expected God to be present in the wind, which is felt and heard but not seen. Elijah expected God to be...noisy. Surely, the Divine causes ripples and vibrations of some kind in the world, even if it is only the waves of sound.
But when God came to Elijah it was in...sheer silence.
How did he know it was God?
God didn’t announce his presence.
God didn’t have to. The silence was pregnant enough.
Psalm 46:10 reads: “Be still and know that I am God.”
It does not say: ‘Be still and listen to me.’
It says, “Be still” and “know.”
Think about it. If one is sitting in silence, and is straining to hear something--God or what--then one is missing the point entirely. Because, all of a sudden, the listener is expecting and hoping for the silence to be broken. That one has bypassed the silence from the start. The stillness of silence is broken immediately by the desire to be spoken to, or to hear something. Oh, there are times when you have to be silent in order to listen. Especially because of how noisy things can get, you gotta make room even for listening anymore. But there are also times when you have to be silent just to be silent. That is all. Nothing else.
So, when things are noisy, tune your ears and listen harder.
But when things are silent...stop listening; be idle.
By the time God comes to you in silence, God has already spoken enough to prepare you for it. The speaking back-and-forth, the listening back-and-forth, with start up again.
In the meantime, just be silent without going further.
And just for kicks, from time to time, create some more silence in your life.
You can only talk so much. You can only listen so much, too.
You won’t enjoy silence at first.
You will try to fill it. You will try to push your ear into it so far that you hear the ocean for want of hearing to bring some epiphany.
But when the ocean in your ear tires...and you give in to the idleness of silence...
Well, then you will be; then you will know.
Later...a meditation comparing the following phenomena:
'Only two people that are comfortable with each other can bear silence together.'
-and-
'Only one who is comfortable with herself can bear silence in solitude.'
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