A Theology of Silence

Buddhism, once the domain of Ambedkar and his acolytes is now attracting more glamorous followers including in its ranks people like Priyanka Gandhi. The latest issue of Outlook talks about the Buddhist revival that is happening. middle class and page 3 crowd, typically associated more with partying are joining up for one of the many forms of Buddhism available today.

One of them is Vipassana which has its centre at Igatpuri near Mumbai and which I recently visited. the introduction to Vipasssana in the Igatpuri begins with a ten day introductory course which is quite austere. austerity of course was to be expected but what fascinates me most is the importance accorded to silence in the whole course: ten days of near total silence cut off from television, news papers and conversation of any kind. Such an atmosphere, it is said leads to a state of mental purification and “detox” when one is cut off from all polluting influences.

Surely silence has a lot of therapeutic effects, but in the Christian tradition, more specifically in the Protestant, Evangelical tradition, we don’t have much time and space for silence. Silence is for the monks and the nuns and of course we don’t have them either. And that is a pity.

It is difficult to fathom a reason but perhaps a reason could be the protestant, evangelical emphasis on the Word of God and the underlying assumption that the Word of god is meant to be heard; rather than meditated up on or even read. Hence the plethora of preachers and speakers and the importance given to them. The medium does not matter; it could be television or in crusades or revival meetings or churches. In this tradition, the very moment we think of planning an event or a program, in the very next breath, we ask, “but who will be the speaker?” a program without a speaker is sort of thinkable in our circles.

Of course the concept of silence is thoroughly biblical. Jesus spent long moment in silent contemplation. All four Gospels tell us that Jesus prayed. He prayed alone on mountains and in the wilderness. In the first centuries after Jesus’ life, most Desert monk/writers were familiar with silence--their own silence, and the silence of God. After the Reformation in the 16th century, Protestant denominations drew parishioners’ attention almost entirely to the Bible, to sermons and vocal prayer, and to the singing of hymns.

From then on we lost the tradition. Almost all post-Reformation denominations (except, e.g., the Quakers) focused (and still do focus) on the Word--reading the Bible, listening to sermons and trying to convert others by convincing them that our particular verbal formulations of scripture, of doctrine and of God’s identity are true in themselves. For most Protestant denominations, the words of Scripture, doctrine and creeds are themselves identified as holy. These Christian brothers and sisters do not seem to be interested in contemplative silence or in the possibility that the Triune God can show up between, beneath and beyond our words and stories--even beyond our sacred words and stories.

Those of us who value contemplative silence should remember that Jesus did not teach wordless, contemplative prayer explicitly. Yes, Jesus did pray alone, often going into the desert for solitude, and we can infer from his life and teaching that he learned about himself, his mission and God in silence. But contemplatives should not ignore the fact that Jesus ‘s spirituality was thoroughly relational. Jesus discerned God’s personal presence as he studied Hebrew scripture, and he preached. The Gospel writers tell us that God’s presence was conveyed powerfully through Jesus’s words. Jesus’s ministry tells us that very often the Good News is spoken, one to another, and the effect on the listener may be more powerful, meaningful and redemptive than if that listener had sat in meditation or contemplative prayer. we may need of course as in every thing, the right checks and balances but a theology of silence would add great value to evangelical spirituality.