The Anomaly of Silence
“. . .thus worship in all its degrees is an education in charity, a purgation of egoism.” 4
Let us pray:
O God, Creator, Preserver of Humankind, assist us mercifully with your help to enter with joy upon the meditation of those mighty acts whereby you have given us the path to abundant life and immortality. During this most solemn of weeks as we are humbled and reminded of the sacrifice of your son, attune our minds to that still small voice as you speak in and through your people. Give us the wisdom to listen and to hear amid the clang and clamor of our busy lives. Teach us to worship in every activity and to quiet the “I” and listen for the “we” as we struggle to live with each other striving to discern your will. “Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire, O still small voice of calm!” Amen.
In a tract published by Coventry Cathedral titled, “Evensong in Coventry Cathedral,” the writer explaining this daily service states: “The Church’s worship is a conversation which began long before you were born and will continue long after you are dead.” It says that we must be sensitized to listen and hear the conversation already going on before, and then join in it. O course, the conversation being described is the innermost intimate conversation existing between the Christian and God.
One of the most exciting and most challenging facets of being a Christian is a feeling of “universal oneness” between Christian believers of all times and places. Through the grace of God, the true essence of each one of us, love, faith and truth, remain forever after our mortal body is discarded. Some would call this the “soul.” As Christians in the Reformed tradition, we believe that every time we worship, we are united with all of those who have (1) died in Christ, which we call the Communion of the Saints; (2) with the Christians of our own time and (3) with those yet unborn.
Through this unity we find ourselves on a lifelong quest for faith and strength; for that essence of our being that transcends time, death and the grave. We seek through community (corporate worship) a glimpse of the eternal; of that something greater than all human language, art or music can fully describe. That great 20th century theologian, Evelyn Underhill in her monumental book, Worship 4 says, “. . .the worshiper, however lonely in appearance, comes before God as a member of a great family; part of the Communion of Saints, living and dead. His own small effort of adoration is offered ‘in and for all.’”
So, perhaps it is not surprising, maybe even encouraging that we often find ourselves at a loss for words. “Encouraging,” you say? Yes, encouraging. . .because it is something greater than any one of us or even than the sum of all of us. If we could fully explain or fully express that which we call God, God suddenly becomes a bosom buddy, just like us. All mystery vanishes and our search for something greater is forced to continue.
What if it is that very inability of humans to fully understand God that presents the very portal through which we open ourselves up to listen and hear God speak. . .that still small voice that is only audible through silence. Silence is almost impossible to find in the 21st century.
Beginning in the 1830’s, prior to the Industrial Revolution, everyday life was quiet. Everyday life consisted of natural sounds made by humans, animals and nature. There were few loud sounds except from those caused by meteorological or geological forces. Imagine the terror of thunder, of the eruption of a geyser, the eruption of a volcano, stampede of a herd of animals.
With the beginning of the Industrial Revolution which included the invention of the steam locomotive, the invention of large industrial machinery that made possible the mass production of inexpensive items, of the phonograph, radio, televison, automobiles, airplanes, air conditioning, rockets, missiles, telephones, pagers, cell phones, car radios, I-pods, congested traffic on the ground and in the air, Muzak in retail stores, malls and when you are “on hold” on the telephone, etc. humans have become all but deaf to silence, real silence. For any born since the 1920’s, silence no longer really means “silent.”
Slowly, sometimes not so slowly, humans have not only forgotten what real silence is, many are decidedly uncomfortable in a situation where there is NOT any “background” noise. This has made true silence a rare commodity, one that is in danger of extinction. Obviously noise (and light) pollution are worse in and in proximity of metropolitan areas, the airplane has made even remote areas devoid of silence.
We are surrounded by human-created sound. We no longer hear natural sounds and worst of all, we have raised three generations of people that have no conception of the power of silence. True silence is deafening. It is awkward and often makes us uncomfortable.
We have raised generations of people that do not know true silence and have never seen the full glory of the night sky. You have to get 50 or more miles from the metroplex to escape the light pollution that hides the heavens.
The more dramatic natural sounds were certainly not regular occurrences. Because of that rarity, they had a much greater impact and were greatly feared. Through time, even these began to seem less threatening. Before the advent of our modern world, humans were already becoming desensitized to sound.
The inclusion of periods of silence within corporate worship is well documented in early liturgies. In our own worship, we offer opportunity for at least three periods of silence. Concerning the absolute necessity for a sense of mystery and a conscious inclusion of silence in corporate worship, Evelyn Underhill 4 states, “. . .here (corporate worship) the secret response of each soul to the one Spirit forms as it were a separate thread in the woven garment of the Bride. . .this united act of wordless prayer could never by itself suffice to express that Church’s full life of adoration; first because it is only appropriate to the spiritually mature, and secondly, because though it lifts the mind and heart to God, it leaves too much of our human nature behind. . .thus the individual loses the education which it should receive by and through the common vocal worship of the church.”
The contemporary theologian, Paul Waitman Hoon, in his book, The Integrity of Worship 2 , states: “. . .silence itself is a language. The shape of a chandelier is language. . .the symbols on the communion table – a cross, an open Bible, a picture, windows, flowers. . .all these are language. . .albeit, non verbal language, the language of silent worship.”
In The Seduction of the Spirit 1 by theologian, Harvey Cox, we read, “. . .we are so relentlessly pounded today by messages and stimuli from without that we need support from any source whatever to learn again to listen to what comes from within.” He suggests that meditation is a means of making ourselves more capable of hearing ourselves and one another. Adding that “. . .an authentic personal life is greatly threatened today by the intrusive technical world, and because of these intrusions, humans have lost, what Cox terms, INTERIORITY ; or lost communication with his own soul.” He believes that an effective way to “deautomatize” ourselves and tune down our overdeveloped capacity for responding to external signals and stimuli is through practice, study and implementation of the techniques of meditation, similar to the kind found in many Eastern religions.
There have been many attempts to regain our understanding of and need for silence. One had great influence in shaping the worship of the Society of Friends; the Quakers. Quaker worship consists of corporate silence. In theory, no person was to ever plan to speak–speaking only if moved by the spirit of the meeting to do so. Experienced Quakers tend to speak less but with greater wisdom than those who are less experienced. This comes out of one of the core Quaker beliefs: tolerance. A meeting where the spirit seemed absent is called a “dry” meeting. If the spirit seemed to be present, it is called a “gathered” meeting.
In closing, I encourage each one of you to examine your own life and see if you have lost the understanding and need for periods of real silence. To urge you on toward seeking and finding your own private silent place, read the well-known words by the Quaker poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, who, in 1872 penned these lines:
Dear Lord and Father of Mankind 3
1. Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways;
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.
2. In simple trust like theirs who heard,
Beside the Syrian sea,
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word
Rise up and follow Thee.
3. O Sabbath rest by Galilee,
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity,
Interpreted by love!
4. Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.
5. Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm!
. . .text by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) 1
Cox, Harvey. The Seduction of the Spirit. Simon and Schuster, 1973
2 Hoon, Paul Waitman. The Integrity of Worship. Abingdon Press, 1971
3 The Presbyterian Hymnal: Hymns, Psalms, and Spiritual Songs. 1990
4 Underhill, Evelyn. Worship. Crossroad-New York, 1936, 1982