Silence Brings the Voice of God

I have been slowly reading through the rule of St Benedict. Benedictine monks and nuns read a part of his rule every day. Over and over again. It is surprising at first, because It reads somewhat like a book of quotes by Mother Teresa of Calcutta. Deceptively Simple. Direct. Uncomplicated. Nothing innovative or shocking. The kind of words that say things you already know in your heart - mostly reminding you what Jesus said when he was here. And yet each time you read it over again new blossoms of insight seem to bud in your mind and heart. That is the power of truth simply said.

But sometimes, being human, you want his words said with more - em - linguistic filigree - to cushion the 'blow' so to speak. The blow of DOING and not just thinking about what they are saying. Benedict does not appease us in that way. Benedict was bent on doing, and helping others do the work of dying to self - not just thinking about it. That was why he wrote the rule. And why his monks have to read it every day, for it is one of the easiest things on earth to forget - dying to yourself.

The things he says most often are: be faithful to silence, always. Even if you have something uplifting or good to say. Better to not say it. Let silence be vigilant and widespread through the house. Second, he seems genuinely 'afraid' of grumbling rearing its ugly head among the brothers. You get the impression that he has been on the receiving end of a grumbling that started small and gathered strength.... and ended perhaps in that poisoned glass of wine given to him at the hand of a supposed brother. There had to be a strong, sad, frightening memory of that, even in a saint. He sees grumbling's ability to divide and sow resentments through lies. I suppose, then, if silence is held up as a prime good, grumbling will have no chance to root.

The beautiful thing about human silence is this: you can suddenly hear God's voice, and only God's voice. In a monastery, His voice speaks through the word He has written in Scripture. It speaks through the readings at meals. It speaks in the natural world: in calves born, in rustling trees, in a robin guarding her eggs, in sunshine crossing a breviary from an open window at Lauds. If men stop talking, God can be heard. It's really quite simple. But nonetheless a different kind of sound.

It is not a voice that comes across a table over tea, or a tete a tete over an early morning breakfast. You don't see His face. You don't see his reactions to you. You don't hear his voice speaking. These things are very important to humans. At least to some humans. Monks must forego that very human route to hearing God. That is what makes the life of a monk a sacrifice.

And yet......and yet....once he has had some practice at being silent - both inside and out.....what joy must be his that he is certain that God is talking to him all the day long - without any human chatter of any kind to confuse his soul. Seven times in the office, in the reading at the refectory, at Chapter, in the talks of the Abbot - God is speaking clearly and alone. The monk is receiving messages all the day long about what to do. And many times those messages are quite pointed and personal. A lovely Benedictine brother told me that. God reads your mind and speaks to it in just the right way through His word all the day long. You KNOW it is his voice, because no one else is speaking. It is a great sacrifice, but what a comforting certainty.

My question, as a lay oblate though is this: how does one stay silent in the world? There is much talk mixed together with God's voice in the world. It can get confusing... and very loud. How does a person in the world practice the silence of Benedict? Of course God speaks to us. He is always speaking to us. But our chatter gets in the way more often than not.

Although when I think more about it, there ARE people in the world who are silent. They listen more than they speak. They have a presence about them that doesn't get in the way nor does it strive to gather an army of supporters. They just are. And they are: kindly, quiet, laugh gently, have utter self control when baited, and always fall on the side of forgiveness when facing the alternative. I call them the chant people. They are like Gregorian chant. They rise and fall, but never too high or low. They have passion, but it is always in context of truth and beauty and never brimming over or out of control. They are not superfluous or flowery. They only speak the notes that men need to hear. And being so simple? They are loved. They are trusted. They are gentle and witty. And even when they talk..... they are silent somehow. You can always hear God beyond their voices. I suppose a child of Benedict who lives in the world needs to seek out more people like this. To learn from them how to keep silence in the world.

I think I might have learned it best from a bus driver when I was little. He drove the bus from my house to my eye doctor downtown for a few years. It was always him. He opened that door each time and smiled at me, sometimes patted my hand as it put the money in the machine. He was funny and calm with everyone on the bus - and a bus is a collection of challenging characters sometimes, to be sure! Once, when he opened the door, someone threw a cup of ice through the door and in his face - just to be a jerk. He quietly closed the door with a small shake of his head, took out his handkerchief (he HAD a handkerchief!) and simply resumed his driving while drying his face....not mad or sad or surprised. He had already moved on to the peace in his head. I never knew he was a chant person until that day. But he was one.

I am sure they exist everywhere. Part of the Benedictine spirit in the world is to look more carefully and to imitate what we see in the chant people who come in and out of our lives if we but notice. Silence will look different for a lay Oblate, but I take it as a priority to discover it around me and learn to practice it.

Just some thoughts.......