Two Kinds of Silence

Ruminating over the weekend at the Abbey about silence itself I came to the conclusion that silence usually comes in one of two types: Desolation or Consolation.

Remarkably similar to the Ignatian spirituality, both of these types of silence come from God. Both of these types of silence lead us back to Him. He designs each experience so that it can have its full effect, to make us love God and experience joy with Him eternally.

At the Abbey in Winter one of the most peaceful scenes I have ever witnessed is to look out over the snow covered valley outside the cloister and gaze at the blue tinted shadows, shadows which only half reveal the field stubble landscape underneath. To the ear, all is quiet, and a little deadened. This is one type of silence.

This wintery silence corresponds well to the dead times in my own soul's journey. These are times when words of prayer and proclamation, words of comfort and communication, cease to flow so easily.

Quiet is a defensive mechanism then. Or perhaps a healing one. These are times when we sense our souls drawing back into themselves, cringing and shriveling like dead leaves hanging on a branch, stirred by the wind.

There is something life-giving here, even in the winter, and not just by way of contrast and relief. It's not like when you come in from the cold and you finally get warmed up by the fire. It's more like this: you stand out in the cold for so long that it feels like even the cold has a peculiar warmth of its own.

However, one needs to beware the spiritual frostbite. You can feel warm and actually be in danger of losing a limb. To re-use the the metaphor of Jesus (Matthew 6:23), if even your light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness thereof. But if one is really listening, then I think there is little danger of being too long out in the cold desolation of silence. As Paul said, god does not tmept us beyond what we are able (1 Cor 10:13).

I like to preserve a preferential option for the other kind of silence: the silence of consolation. To me, that silence is like sitting with a long-loved partner and not needing to speak to him or her. The silence between you completes your sentences, one to the other. This silence is fertility personified.

That is the silence I heard this past weekend, sometimes between 5:00 and 5:30 a.m. on Saturday, after the Office Vigils but before Morning Prayer. It is a pregnant silence, not quite the time when the birds begin to sing and welcome the day. It happens before the time when the buzzing of cicadas or what-ever-the-heck is the Wisconsin equivalent begin their song.

It is the silence of potential fruitfulness, the silence which waits like the eyes of a handmaid for the answer of the Master (Ps 123). this the silence of knowing that god does all things well, while not knowing yet quite what God is up to.

As I think back on this silence and that great movie "Into Great Silence" I crave even more of that inward quiet, of both kinds. And one doesn't need to be a Carthusian to arrive there.

Turn off the car radio.

Sit still in the gloaming on the patio.

Listen with the ears of your heart.

Solitude, Silence, Stillness

When I first arrived at the Cistercian Abbey of Our Lady of Sping Bank in June 2005, I was struck by the relative isolation of the place. Snuggled between two low ridges, the rectangular enclosure appears right at home in the midst of cornfields and pastures.

I remember getting up in the middle of the first night there and standing on tip toe to peer out the window at the woods, barely visible in a quarter moonlight in the wee hours of the morning. Alone-ness, but yet not lonely.

This physical solitude by itself was healing. However, I soon came to realize that there was a deeper dimension calling out from within this solitude. Part of this silence was due to the relative lack of human contact. With only five monks and no retreat house or guest quarters, one could almost go all day without encountering another human being, except for the eight daily occasions of communal prayer. At these gathering times one's focus is rightfully not on the others who gather with you, but on the One who gathers us. Even at the common table divine reading and music replace the usual buzz of table talk which surrounds this most common of human interactions.

In the midst of the solitude I sensed a certain interior silence, supported through but not engendered by the peaceful surroundings. This silence remains a gift, which, like a single coal from a dying fire, I strive to carry with me between my infrequent visits. This interior sense of peace returns at times, especially when I am in the practice of private prayer.

However, during this last visit I also learned of a third level or aspect of inner quiet.

This is interior stillness.

All is quiet outside. One's inner voices are also stilled by means of attention to the thoughts and cultivation of something resembling a library room quiet- atmospheric but also internal. Within this temple not made with hands, or thoughts or speech I found and find a certain divine Presence. Although the Divine Presence has always been there, I have frequently not been present to Him.

This Presence is best cultivated in solitude and silence. However, these are simply doors through which one enters into stillness. Solitude and silence are the precursors to an inner stillness which became the real subject, object, and result of this retreat.

More about that stillness next time.

Studying in the Quiet- Part II

Some time ago I wrote about the need for quiet- to say less, to meditate more. http://catholicgeek.blogspot.com/2006/10/studying-in-quiet.html

One friend said he would look forward to seeing what happened. Perhaps he said it tongue in cheek, knowing my gregarious nature would not allow me to remain quiet.... at least not long enough to have any lasting effect.

Here is the progress report.

I have found some very quiet spaces in my life that I never knew existed before.

Last summer a trusted confessor, Father Cyril Gorman of St John's Abbey, gave me the penance of staying after Mass and sitting quietly and pondering. It took a few months but now the practice has set in of staying for just a few moments after Mass is over. Sometimes I relish Christ's continued presence, pray for my day, or just pray over and over that favorite prayer of John Paul II, "Totus tuus".... totally yours. Sometimes I just sit in no particular action at all, just sit. However this started, I've found it makes Mass more meaningful. It "sticks to my ribs" longer as I continue to ponder the readings and the prayers and the people I encounter while I return to my car for the trip to work or home.

A second result of being open to the quiet has been an increasing desire to do less and to stay home more. I am less involved in my parish and other outside activities now, a deliberate choice, and I am finding that less is more. When I do things now I relish it more deeply, as if I am more present than before to what is going on around me. I have to admit that part of this change is probably atmospheric... after all it is Fall-approaching Winter here in Minnesota, a time when people tend to settle in for the long winter's nap. But it's something deeper than that. I can't quite explain it yet. But I am happy that it is happening... an increase in contentment and gratitude for where God has placed me.

The last is the most difficult. I am trying to learn to speak only when spoken to. I am naturally outgoing, gregarious, some would even say aggressive. So this is very hard for me. But listening is a valuable skill that often gets overrun by the need to plan one's one response to what others are saying and doing. God help me to speak less and listen more, to others and above all to Him.

Studying in the Quiet

Spend Time in Silence, Pope Tells Students,
Opens Academic Year of Pontifical Universities

VATICAN CITY, OCT. 24, 2006 (Zenit.org).- Benedict XVI counseled students of the pontifical universities in Rome to spend time in silence and contemplation, so as not to fall prey to the "inflation" of words.

The Holy Father said this on Monday afternoon to the university students who had gathered for the annual Mass celebrated in St. Peter's Basilica to open the academic year. Benedict XVI told the students: "In-depth reflection on Christian truths and the study of theology or other religious disciplines presuppose an education in silence and contemplation, as it is necessary to be able to listen with the heart to God who speaks.

"Only if they proceed from the silence of contemplation can our words have a certain value and usefulness and not fall into the inflation of the world's speeches which seek the consensus of public opinion."Therefore, whoever studies in an ecclesiastical institution must be disposed to obedience and truth, and cultivate a certain asceticism of thought and word.

"The Pontiff added: "This asceticism is based on loving familiarity with the word of God."

"Pray: 'Lord, teach us to pray and also to think, to write and to speak,' as these faculties are intimately connected among themselves," the Pope said.

Benedict XVI told the students that "apostolate will be fruitful if you nourish your personal relationship with him, tending toward holiness and having as sole objective of your existence the realization of the kingdom of God."

Pondering these words, a good rule of thumb might be the following: spend one half hour of study/reflection/prayer for every minute of public speaking/ teaching/ preaching/blogging. For each minute we speak with a fellow human, then we can also devote a minute to personal prayer for them. This should make study more important and "vain conversation" less frequent.