For most of us, silence is hard to take. We may well agree with the poet’s lamentation that the world is indeed too much with us,* and we will occasionally (frequently?) entertain fantasies of escaping the clutches of our numerous “devices” and their avalanche of words and images, but when the phone rings (or beeps or whatever), we jump without even thinking, and we turn on radios and TVs and check email and catch up on who had what for lunch just to fill the silence with the sounds of the world. Like a drug, disconnecting (what, it has an off switch?) is like going through withdrawal.
We also find silence hard because it seems like a waste of time. Our culture puts a high value on achievement and action and so do we easily and routinely dismiss opportunities to sit and be still in solitary silence—assuming we even recognize such moments when they pass our way.
But there is an important strain in the faith pilgrimage that intentionally seeks silence because in the silence does God speak. Jesus often drew apart to the empty place to renew his soul, and he invited his followers to do the same thing (Mark 1.35, 6.31, et al.). The Psalmist found God in the stillness (46.10). So for Isaiah, returning and rest, quietness and trust heal the broken spirit (30.15). Elijah ended his turmoil through the “still small voice” (1 Kings 19.12).
Practicing the discipline of silence is not easy. I once set aside a week for that purpose and sequestered myself in a rural part of the state where we were living. No radio. No TV. No newspapers. No people. A couple of good books, my Bible, and my dog. Long days wandering through the woods. Longer nights. Lots of time for reading and thinking, but one can only wander and read and think so long. I lasted five days.
Starting with bite-sized pieces makes more sense in this area and like an athlete, gradually training to increase skill and capacity. Maybe it would be enough for starters just to turn off our devices (how odious that word has become, devices).
Be still, and listen, but not to that or those or whatever breaks the silence in your life … at least for a time.
* What William Wordsworth really said:
The world is too much with us; late and soon
Getting and spending we lay waste our powers.
At issue is the price we pay for excessive materialism, including the way it separates us from nature, obviously a factor in humanity’s inadequate response to climate change.