The Connecting, Edifying Power of Silence
Saturday of the Third Week of Lent – March 14, 2015
THEOPHILUS, ARCHBISHOP OF ALEXANDRIA, visited Scetis. The brothers urged Abba Pambo to speak to the bishop in order to edify him. Pambo replied, “If my silence does not edify him, there is nothing he can learn from my speech.”
[Bernard Bangley, By Way of the Desert, p. 256]
In the Hebrew Scriptures, when Elijah hid from God in a cave, God was manifested to him not in loud, over-the-top epiphanies (wind, earthquake, fire), but in a “still, small voice” . . . “a gentle whisper” . . . literally, “a silent shout” (1 Kings 19:11 – 12).
Throughout the centuries, Christians within the contemplative tradition have believed that silence is the first language of God.
If you think about it, silence is a universal language. You may or may not be conversant in Spanish, Chinese, or Swahili, but each of us can speak and listen to the language of silence.
In the Contemplative worship service I am a part of each Sunday morning, we sometimes offer worship on Pentecost Sunday which features the Scriptures being read in many different languages. In a limited way, we try to approximate the experience of persons gathered in Jerusalem (Acts 2) who heard the Gospel, each in his or her own language. In recent years, we have added one additional language to the five or six we use for that scripture reading: Silence. It is a language that transcends culture, race, and continent.
I often find that silence connects me to others in a way that words cannot. Even the most eloquent speech cannot make connections among persons at the depths with which silence connects us.
I see this played out frequently on silent retreats, when a group of people agree to spend a day (or a few days) in silence . . . praying, noticing, and deepening their connection to God. Even when not speaking to one another, there is a bond created and nurtured among participants who are seeking God “alone but together.” It is a powerful bond that does not need words or verbal expression. It happens silently, and is often stronger than any bond created by speech.
This, I believe, is the “edifying silence” to which Abba Pambo alluded.
THEOPHILUS, ARCHBISHOP OF ALEXANDRIA, visited Scetis. The brothers urged Abba Pambo to speak to the bishop in order to edify him. Pambo replied, “If my silence does not edify him, there is nothing he can learn from my speech.”
[Bernard Bangley, By Way of the Desert, p. 256]
In the Hebrew Scriptures, when Elijah hid from God in a cave, God was manifested to him not in loud, over-the-top epiphanies (wind, earthquake, fire), but in a “still, small voice” . . . “a gentle whisper” . . . literally, “a silent shout” (1 Kings 19:11 – 12).
Throughout the centuries, Christians within the contemplative tradition have believed that silence is the first language of God.
If you think about it, silence is a universal language. You may or may not be conversant in Spanish, Chinese, or Swahili, but each of us can speak and listen to the language of silence.
In the Contemplative worship service I am a part of each Sunday morning, we sometimes offer worship on Pentecost Sunday which features the Scriptures being read in many different languages. In a limited way, we try to approximate the experience of persons gathered in Jerusalem (Acts 2) who heard the Gospel, each in his or her own language. In recent years, we have added one additional language to the five or six we use for that scripture reading: Silence. It is a language that transcends culture, race, and continent.
I often find that silence connects me to others in a way that words cannot. Even the most eloquent speech cannot make connections among persons at the depths with which silence connects us.
I see this played out frequently on silent retreats, when a group of people agree to spend a day (or a few days) in silence . . . praying, noticing, and deepening their connection to God. Even when not speaking to one another, there is a bond created and nurtured among participants who are seeking God “alone but together.” It is a powerful bond that does not need words or verbal expression. It happens silently, and is often stronger than any bond created by speech.
This, I believe, is the “edifying silence” to which Abba Pambo alluded.
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