Stepping into Silence
For God alone my soul in silence waits; *
Psalm 62:1(New Coverdale Psalter, BCP 2019)
from him comes my salvation.
It was my third hour sitting on the screened-in library porch, writing in my journal and listening to the mourning doves, when I prayed, “Don’t let me leave this.” Now, truth be told, I would drive back home in just a few hours. I was on a silent retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani, Kentucky’s Trappist monastery that became famous decades ago as the home of monk, priest, and contemplative writer Thomas Merton. But I wasn’t asking God not to let me leave the abbey (even if, all things considered, there’s no lack of romantic appeal). I was asking him for the ability not to leave the interior place of quiet that my time alone there with him had awakened in my soul.
Silence is hard to find in our world. We’re so used to the constant background noise of videos or music, the chatter of a cafe, or the busyness of our own mind that we begin to feel uncomfortable when noise doesn’t exist. However, the Trappists—a strict order of Cistercian monastics who were, likewise, fashioned as a stricter order of Benedictines—specialize in this practice. At Gethsemani, many areas of the monastery campus, including all but a small handful of areas in the retreat house, are silent zones. The monks and any visitors also keep the “Great Monastic Silence” from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. outside of the early morning prayer offices (seven offices exist throughout the day).
Stepping into such a rhythm of silence is counterintuitive to everything we know and practice in our society. But if we take that invitation, it has many gifts to impart.
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The Power of Silence
Silence to Rest
And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.”
Mark 6:31a
The remarkable thing about my first night at Gethsemani was that I fell asleep at 9:00 p.m., even though I usually struggle to fall asleep before midnight.
After the 7:30 Compline, I had gone outside to watch the sun descend over the rolling hills of central Kentucky (pictured). I returned to my small, relatively bare room. It was truly “a desolate place” (Mark 6:31) in the best sense of the word. No one was talking, and I had no internet or phone reception. I had brought one Bible, a Prayer Book, a couple of other books to read, and a journal to write in. I picked up a book, but relieved of the pressure to keep up with the world’s latest events or stay in touch with friends, family, or coworkers, I crashed. What had happened?
Without contact with the outside world, I was forced to surrender everything to God’s keeping. I could not intervene. This, of course, is simply a realization that is always true: the creator of heaven and earth is about his business, and the people and things that generally concern me are in his care. It’s the sentiment expressed in the collect,
Almighty God, we entrust all who are dear to us to your never-failing care and love, for this life and the life to come, knowing that you are doing for them better things than we can desire or pray for; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Collect 52: “For Those We Love” (Book of Common Prayer 2019)
In the peace that realization brought, I drifted quickly into one of the most restful sleep I’ve had in ages.
Silence to Listen
O send out your light and your truth, that they may lead me, *
Psalm 43:3 (New Coverdale Psalter, BCP 2019)
and bring me to your holy hill, to your dwelling…
My experience of silence at Gethsemani further fascinated me through what I didn’t hear and what I did. Birdsong and breeze replaced the artificial sounds of my everyday life, especially on the trails around the abbey’s thousands of acres of pasture and woodland. However, it was the interior voices that rose most to the fore. I think we often keep music on in the background of whatever we’re doing because, like being in an awkward situation, it gives us an excuse not to talk with those present with us. And when we’re alone, the dreaded conversationalists to avoid are our hearts and the very Spirit of God dwelling within. At Gethsemani, I experienced greater clarity both with my own thoughts and with discerning God’s presence with me than I’ve had in quite some time.
In Leadership Transformations‘ book, Silencio, Susan Currie writes,
[I]n general, a diffused attention makes it hard for anyone to listen well. So still the sounds around you—sounds of media, or machines, of others’ voices. And try to still the sounds within you—your own words, your own busy thoughts, your own analysis of the text before you. Still these sounds, and say, with young Samuel, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening” (1 Samuel 1:9).
Susan Currie, “Listining Prayer” in Steve Macchia (ed.) Silencio: Reflective Practices for Nurturing Your Soul
When we practice intentional silence, we practice intentional listening. We become more aware of what is happening inside us—what God may be calling us toward, what he is exposing in our souls, and what issues we are wrestling with that we need to place in his capable hands. This may be an opportunity to be in silence in the scriptures. We can prayerfully sit with the ancient words, no study or devotional notes clouding our thinking, and learn to be there with the wisdom God has given, asking him to illuminate our hearts with what he’d have us know.
Silence in Anglican Worship
In the Daily Office
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.
Romans 8:26
It’s tempting to rush through the Daily Office, particularly Morning and Evening Prayer. It already takes at least 20 minutes of our time to say beginning to end, and we have things to get done, especially in the morning. However, that very time demand is also why it is a beautiful teaching tool for our minds and hearts. We have to pause our day for it. While we’re at it, why not take advantage of the room for silence that it gives us?
Beginning with silence, even before the opening sentence, positions my thoughts in a more contemplative space. It’s what I do when on my own and when I can lead others in it. After the confession is introduced, but before we launch into its words, the rubrics instruct us, “Silence is kept.”
That’s the idea. We don’t rush into it. This is an invitation to be open to God: “Lord, shine a light on my heart. Expose my thoughts and actions to me so I can bring them before you honestly.” Only then, when we have been with him, letting him sift our minds of the last few hours, can we truly recite the confession with a repentant heart prepared for his grace.
Likewise, as we near the end of the Office, the rubrics invite us to offer our intercessions and thanksgiving. The rubrics don’t instruct silence here, but it’s a wise discipline. We can pause here in quietness and, once again, come before God. “Lord, remind me of those in need,” we may say, “of those who are in suffering, of those in need of your salvation.” It invites us to let the Spirit lead us in what we should pray about. As he brings these people and concerns to mind, surrender them to his care.
In the Sunday Eucharist
Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself.
I Corinthians 11:28-29
In the first Anglican church that I attended regularly, the sanctuary was quiet enough to hear a pin drop before the service of Holy Communion began. It was glorious to come in, lower the kneeler, and be there with God in absolute silence. As with my earlier encouragement to start the Daily Office in silence, this moment of quiet contemplation prepared my heart for the next hour of prayer, scripture, hymnody, and the Eucharist.
Like the Daily Office, the Eucharistic liturgy also offers moments of silence. The rubrics instruct silence before the confession of sin so that we can allow God’s Spirit to expose the things we need to repent. We are also advised to take a moment before walking forward for Holy Communion to “examine ourselves before we presume to eat of that Bread and drink of that Cup” (the Exhortation, BCP 2019 pg. 147). Finally, after taking Communion, we have a few moments alone as everyone else partakes to give thanks in our hearts for Christ’s gift of himself through the bread and wine.
Bringing Silence Home
As I returned to Louisville, I asked God for the grace to keep his gifts through silence with me. I asked, how could silence be a more significant part of my rule of life? How, amid life’s noise and chaos, can I “come away to a desolate place,” even without an hour’s drive? The Lord invites us to be present with him, just as he is always present to us, and to be still and know that he is God (Psalm 46:10). Although our world and minds often steal our focus, may we find the silence to listen and find our rest in him.
Photo by Jacob Davis, taken on the grounds of the Abbey of Gethsemani, Trappist, Kentucky.
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