I got off my plane at the Medford
Airport. I was thoroughly energized by
the last six weeks having spent them at the Moody Bible Institute in Chicago,
but it was good to be back home with the family. It was also good to be away from the
sweltering humidity of a Mid-western summer; something that must be experienced
to fully understand the graciousness of our local climate. But what surprised me the most when I got
back home was the quiet. I had grown so
accustomed to the 24/7 background hum of Chicago that I no longer heard it
anymore. By comparison, the Rogue Valley
was silent and that silence made everything I heard more brilliant by
comparison.
The Greeks had a god of silence named
Harpocrates. They "borrowed"
him from Egypt after Alexander the Great conquered them. Harpocrates is the child Horus (an Egyptian
god) who has a finger to his lips. In
Egyptian art fingers to the lips symbolize a child, but the Greeks did not
understand this and took the gesture to mean "shhhh" or to be silent
and thus Harpocrates began his new reign over quietude. Harpocrates has been well-known since late
antiquity and was frequently employed in art as a symbol of the ideals of quiet
contemplation and silent prayer. I
recently visited a renaissance era Benedictine monastery and there in the
library was a large painting of Harpocrates with his finger to his lips and a
Latin phrase that said something to the effect that "wisdom is found in great
silence." It might have actually
said "no talking or gum chewing in the library" as I am a bit of a
novice in translating Latin to English.
Regardless, there is a wisdom to having zones of silence in this world as the
continual babbling and small talk of people rarely puts us in a position to
receive that wisdom of God that can only be found by listening.
Hugh Feiss O.S.B. in his book Essential
Monastic Wisdom speaks of the Benedictine value of silence. It is not silence for its own sake, but a
purposeful discipline of the mind and tongue that is geared at helping a man or
woman grow to be an attentive listener to God, his superiors, and fellow
man. In becoming more apt to listen,
there follows other good fruits such as speaking truthfully to one's neighbor
and being cautious and more measured as to give no occasion for offense or even
gossip and false witness. When words are
fewer, they have greater value. When
someone speaks, they are taken seriously.
I have a valued colleague whom I regularly consult for his insights into
business and personnel matters. When he
doesn't weigh in on something I'm talking about, I take that very seriously and
will often say to him that his "silence is really quite deafening!" His words always have value because they are
not used commonly or carelessly.
The Bible speaks much about listening and
cautiously measuring the use of our words.
One of my favorite verses says "When words are many, transgression
is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent (Prov. 10:19)." Elsewhere we read "Whoever restrains his
words has knowledge, and he who has a cool spirit is a man of understanding
(Prov. 17:27)." The Godward reason
we should measure our words is the Lord says we will have to give an accounting
before him for the careless words we have uttered (a sobering reality for a
person like me). Towards our fellow man
we need to discipline our words because there is no such thing as unsaying
something. Courtroom lawyers know this
quite well and will go ahead and say things and object to things all the while
knowing that a judge can tell a jury to disregard something, but the fact
remains the thought has already set sail in everyone's mind. I know from experience and the sacred confessions
of people under my spiritual care, that some of the deepest wounds of the soul
come from words spoken carelessly and heartlessly by parents and peers. Even if those words have been apologized for
profusely, they still have a way of
registering permanently. If we take this
to heart and think before we speak we might find many things best left unsaid.
Mother Teresa, a person I have come to
profoundly respect, said “In the silence of the heart God speaks. If you face
God in prayer and silence, God will speak to you. Then you will know that you
are nothing. It is only when you realize your nothingness, your emptiness, that
God can fill you with Himself. Souls of prayer are souls of great
silence.” The biggest part of really
finding the Lord's presence is humility and one of its greatest demonstrations
is realizing what we have to say isn't anywhere near as important as what He
has to say. Do we really think God
doesn't know our needs, fears, frustrations and longings? Faith tells us to pray (which is ostensibly
talking to God) but faith also tells us to humble ourselves before the
Lord. Surely the wisdom of silence gives
place for both.
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