Psalm 62 (Psalms for Praying)
Mark 6:30-32
[Silence for one minute]
That was one minute of silence. And it was kind of uncomfortable, wasn’t it? I mean it was for me. I kept thinking, “I wonder what they’re thinking?” And, I imagine you were thinking, “what is she doing?” Of course, you knew it was a sermon on silence, so I’m guessing it wasn’t a complete surprise, but still…
Silence just isn’t something to which most of us are accustomed—certainly not when we’re in the company of others. For whether we’re intro or extroverted, most of us have been conditioned to be sociable. We’ve been trained to connect with others, to talk, to “break” the silence.
And that’s an interesting turn of phrase, isn’t it? “Breaking” silence. For, aside from “breaking bread,” the word, “break,” is typically used in the context of much more violent actions. We “break” windows or legs, kneecaps or vows. And yet, breaking silence is usually thought of as a good thing. Because silence, for most of us, is uncomfortable, unexpected, untrustworthy: silence is meant to be broken.
Right?
Well, yes. And, no. Of course, there are times when silence should be broken! Times when, in the face of grave social injustice, we should speak out. Though we often don’t— because we’re too frightened or busy or distracted or, perhaps, just don’t care. Which is why Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. said:
In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
And why Martin Niemöller, German Pastor and outspoken critic of the Nazi regime, wrote:
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
Yes, sometimes silence should be broken. In fact, sometimes lives depend on our speaking out!
And yet, there are so many other instances in which our voices just add to the clamor, situations in which more noise is an impediment to peace. Therefore, it was a refreshing surprise when, last August, a large group of peace walkers strolled through New York City without speaking. Led by a Rabbi and an Imam, the line stretched for half a mile along the paths of Central Park. As the sounds of war raged in Israel and Gaza, Syria and Iraq, Russia and Ukraine, this silent stream of people from many different cultural backgrounds and religious traditions embodied peace and respect for all as they walked with loving-kindness and compassion.
However, this wasn’t the first peace walk. No, they have a history, and the one in New York was inspired by ten years of silent walks in Israel and Palestine by those who long for peace in that divided land. Jack Kornfield, a well- known Buddhist leader and author, offers this background (www.jackkornfield.com/new-york-peace-walk/):
Peacewalks date from the time of the Buddha, and in modern times, inspired by Gandhi and Dr. King and Cambodian elder Maha Ghosananda, peace walks have come to hold a special power. I remember how one morning in the 1970’s when the student protests against the Thai military dictatorship had reached a dangerous peak, a long line of Buddhist monks and nuns came and stood peacefully between the barricades of students and the military police. Bangkok’s biggest road had been blocked for weeks, government shooting had taken the lives of students, and the conflict was on the verge of spiraling further out of control. Barefoot and silent the line of forest monks and nuns had walked with their abbot for miles, and came to stand meditatively, in the center of the battlefield bringing their peaceful hearts to cool the danger. After standing for hours, they withdrew silently. But it was enough. Their powerful compassionate presence turned the tide, and negotiations between the leaders resumed and the resolution of student demands began.
He goes on:
Peacewalks are a practice of steady loving presence, slow, beautiful and dignified, without flags, placards or slogans. Instead of shouting in the name of peace, peace is demonstrated by the walk. The silent walkers embody the reality of respect and co-existence. They offer calmness, confidence, and a spirit of mindful empathy. They create community among disparate people, uplift spirits, and empower participants to act for peace.
“They… empower participants to act for peace.” Thus, Kornfield identifies the relationship between silence and peace, the connection between quiet and justice. For, without silence, we are often, in the words of St. Paul, just clanging cymbals or noisy gongs. Without silence, we have no place to connect with the One who inspires us to justice. Without silence we have no base from which to reach out with peace and act with love. As the contemporary mystic, Richard Rohr, writes:
People who are interested in issues of peace and justice surely recognize at this point in time how communication, vocabulary, and conversation have reached a very low point in our society. I think we are aware of that in our politics, but we are aware of it in our churches, too. It feels like the only way through this is a re-appreciation for this wonderful but seemingly harmless, thing called silence.
Yes. And hear again the words of this morning’s reading from Psalm 62:
For you alone my soul waits in silence;
from the Beloved comes my salvation.
Enfolding me with strength and steadfast love,
my faith shall remain firm…
For You alone my soul waits in silence;
from the Beloved comes Life;
Love and Light.
Yes! For when our souls wait in silence, we have the capacity to listen to God, the Beloved, the One whose word is Light and Love.
And this is so important! And so very hard to do. However, if we don’t, if we don’t take the time and make the space for silence in our lives, then I can assure you, we will have no time and space for God. Because it is only when we “wait in silence” that we open ourselves to the possibility of true listening. It is only when we “wait in silence” that the clanging cymbals and noisy gongs of our own thoughts, voices, opinions and beliefs have even a chance of becoming quiet enough for other possibilities and points of view to enter and emerge. And, my friends, the Spirit of Life and Love, Creator of the Universe, Consciousness of All That Is most certainly has another Point of View!
As Mother Theresa of Calcutta wrote in No Greater Love:
Contemplatives and ascetics of every age and every religion have always sought God in the silence and solitude of deserts, forests and mountains. Jesus himself lived for forty days in complete solitude, spending long hours in intimate converse with the Father in the silence of the night.
We, too, are called to withdraw into a deeper silence from time to time, alone with God. Being alone with [God] – not with our books, our thoughts, our memories, but in complete nakedness; remaining in [God’s] presence – silent, empty, motionless, waiting.
We cannot find God in noise and restlessness. Look at nature: the trees, flowers, grasses all grow in silence; the stars, the moon, the sun all move in silence. The important thing is not what we are able to say but what God says to us and what [the Holy One] speaks to others through us. In silence [God] listens to us; in silence [she] speaks to our souls; in silence we are granted the privilege of hearing [God’s] voice:
Silence of the eyes;
Silence of the ears;
Silence of our mouths;
Silence of our minds.
In the silence of the heart
God will speak.
But, how do we do it? How do we begin to engage in “silence?” How do we start listening for God? How do we experience quiet in a culture that craves stimulation, thrives on noise?
The truth is, many of us don’t actually like meditation, we feel uncomfortable with contemplative prayer. And, honestly, I’m not promising it will be comfortable. In fact, we’d be hard pressed to define any of the things Jesus asked us to do as “comfortable.” But, he asked anyway. He asked us to forgive and to give, to love and to share, and he also asks, in this morning’s passage from the Gospel of Mark:
Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.
That’s right. He asks us to get away from it all and take a break. By ourselves. With God. Not forever. But, for a while. Because he knows that, otherwise, we will have nothing left, and nowhere from which, to give.
So, even if it’s a bit uncomfortable, we’ve been asked to do it. We’ve been asked to take some time, alone, and get quiet. We’ve been asked to rest, and, in the words of the psalmist, “wait in silence.” And, I promise, if we do, it will get easier! I mean anything gets easier with practice, right? Dietary changes, exercise regimes, foreign languages, child rearing. They all take practice. Just like silence.
And this fall, we’re offering you a number of opportunities to practice. Kris Davis is leading a spiritual practice group that meets every other Saturday from 10 am to Noon—with the next session taking place October 18th. I’m offering a “pilgrimage” series, with visits to contemplative spiritual practices beyond our church doors—the first one taking place this Thursday, October 16th, at Dayspring Retreat Center in Maryland. Beginning with a short, guided meditation, it will continue with several hours of uninterrupted silence for each participant to spend as they wish. If you want more information about this or the rest of the Pilgrimage Series, please pick up one of the handouts in the back of the sanctuary.
There are a great many ways to practice silence. But, paradoxically, I’ve found it to be easiest with words. For without some simple repetitive words to anchor our minds, they will, as the Buddhists say, “monkey around,” even as we try to be still. Thus, focusing on a short spiritual phrase, and repeating it deliberately, can be a wonderful way to quiet our busy and rambunctious brains.
Truthfully, one can choose any phrase, including the beautiful “my soul waits in silence,” or as another writer puts its, “my soul in silence waits.” But, the phrase I find most soothing is the one from Psalm 46 that’s printed on the front of this morning’s worship bulletin: “Be still and know that I am God.” It’s a wonderful lectio divina, or “divine reading,” and when used as a centering prayer, it can help us become quiet enough actually to listen—listen to the Real Word, the Word of Divine Love, of God. Or, as the Poet, Mary Oliver, writes, we can begin to inhabit “a silence in which another voice may speak.”
So, I encourage us to seek this silence together, to support one another, and to listen for God’s voice. And, this morning, I invite you to begin practicing with me.
Sitting quietly, place your feet solidly on the floor, the earth. Release your neck and shoulders, relax your mouth and head, and take a deep soothing breath. And, as you continue breathing slowly and deeply, listen to these words of scripture and welcome them into your heart.
Be still and know that I am God.
Breathing. Deeply, slowly.
Be still and know that I am.
Breathing. Deeply.
Be still and know.
Breathing. Focusing on the words.
Be still.
Allowing them to sink deep within.
Be.
[One more minute of silence]
Amen.