On Silence
(This article first appeared in the Matters
of Faith column of the Cape Cod Times on August, 15, 2015)
I am
going to start this article with a plug so I can get it out of the way rather
than try to subtly sneak it at the end.
Recently, my congregation (Christ Lutheran Church of Falmouth) received
a grant from the Calvin Institute of Worship in Grand Rapids, Michigan to work
on a project around the use of silence in worship. Our project is a new community we call The
Still, Small Voice. We have been
gathering at 4:00 p.m. every Saturday to spend time in intentional silence, a
mix of the Christian traditions of silent contemplation and meditation on
scripture. Anyone from any tradition is
welcome to join us for this experiment.
The
reason our project involves silence is in part due to my own journey with silence,
the tale of an introvert in an often extroverted profession; the story of a
musician who became tired of noise. I
have been a pastor for seventeen years, a period of general decline in my
Lutheran tradition as well as many other established traditions. As we have looked to turn things around, it
often feels like we are trying to compete for who can put on the best
show; who can get the best musicians;
who has the best sound system; who can install the technology to make a lasting
visual impact. It is like we decided
that the best way to deal with a culture overstimulated by screens was to
create a worship service that was more stimulating and more expressive than
what was cued up on Netflix in the omnipresent devices in our parishioners’
pockets.
I
encountered worship services that were big and exciting, some that bordered on
the manipulative, constantly reminding me of how much I was enjoying
myself. I knew that God was present
there. I knew that people around me were
genuinely moved by this worship. Yet I
could also see that I was not the only one walking away from the experience
drained rather than inspired, seeking some time in quiet, time in meditation or
a prayerful walk.
Our
culture treats silence as something to be avoided. Silences are often described as awkward. On the radio or television, silence is called
dead air. I have been in churches in
several traditions where, outside of the occasional moment of silence, quiet is
a sign of a missed cue, a lost place or a faulty sound system. Silence is the discomfort of a dusty parlor
where everything is breakable and nothing can be played with.
So let
me be an advocate for silence. Let me
share some of its value. Silence is not
empty, but amazingly deep. Silence need
not be uncomfortable, but can be extremely calming. Silence is not the absence of sound, but is
that space where sound begins; thought begins; self begins.
This
may be why we often avoid silence. When
you take away the distractions and the noise; when you turn off the screens and
unplug the headphones, you are bound to encounter yourself. You are bound to encounter the worries and
anxieties that replay in the background of your mind as well as guilt over past
actions, anger over current offenses and possibly, some shame around thoughts
you would rather not admit. You may
discover that your thoughts are not as deep as you would like, spending too
much time on what’s for dinner and speculating about Game of Thrones. You may discover that your thoughts are
embarrassingly primal (which can relate both to dinner and Game of Thrones.)
Saint
Teresa of Avila, one of the great Christian voices on silence, believed that
encountering one’s self in silence was the beginning of a journey to a deep
encounter with the divine. In The
Interior Castle she wrote, “If we neither possess nor strive to obtain this
peace at home, we shall never find it abroad.”
If we constantly look outside ourselves for inspiration, for comfort,
for completeness, we will always be chasing what seems out of reach.
Yet like Dorothy and her friends in
Oz, we already have a brain, a heart and courage. We are already at home. We are already complete because God is with
us. It is easy to forget this reality
when we are constantly distracted, told by other voices that we are not enough;
don’t have enough; need to be more than we are.
Another Christian voice for silence, the 13th century German
priest known as Meister Eckhart described our situation saying, “God is at
home; it we who have gone out for a walk.”
Silence can be a way back
home. It can be a way to reboot the system
and rediscover ourselves. Silence
teaches us to listen and pay attention.
It leads us to respond rather than react. It reminds us that peace is already with us.
I invite and encourage you to find
some space for silence. It doesn’t need to
be long hours of meditation with candle and incense. It can be as simple as a few minutes with
phone silenced and computer logged off.
A few deep breaths with eyes closed can be a start. Take time for silence in the midst of busy
days. Remember who you are and remind
yourself that God is with you.
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