Saturday, 13 October 2018

Interruption Silence by Walter Brueggemann and Into the Silent Land by Martin Laird



It was a coincidence that I read these two reflections on Silence so close together. They explore different contexts of silence – Brueggemann silence in the political and social realm, Laird silence in the personal and spiritual.

One argues for the breaking of silence, the other for the holding of ever deeper experience of it.

If I am honest I didn’t get on that well with either book, while nevertheless agreeing with the essence of the point both were making.

I found Brueggemann, who is generally a wise and subtle writer, rather shouty – there was too much about confrontation – it seemed to suggest that it is easy, just speak out and you will be heard and the world a better place. It didn’t do enough to explore the subtle ways in which silence falls, how you are tempted to keep quiet, how the voices of many are denied.

However the power of silence as a means of control, a tool that favours the powerful and the status quo, is clear – and I would entirely agree that “There is no practical area in the life of the church in which reform is more urgent than in the church’s propensity (in all of its manifestations)to silence.”

Laird is offering a practical guide for the development of contemplative practice – how you can build up toward the the holding of times of sustained silence (during which God might speak).

He uses an interesting image, that “a gardener does not actually grow plants. A gardener practices certain gardening skills that facilitate growth that is beyond the gardener’s direct control.” This can be applied to much Christian ministry – we are probably comfortable saying that the Priest does not “convert” people but practices certain skills that facilitate “conversion”. We can also talk about prayer in these terms – we don’t actually “pray” but instead engage in certain practices that allow prayer to happen. It is less about me praying TO God, but prayer being a time of communication between me and God.

I would also agree with Laird when he concludes that “sadly much liturgical prayer is often hopelessly cerebral, self-conscious, verbose, and distracted...”

He later says that there “is a certain wisdom that settles into a life that does not attempt to control what everybody else ought to be thinking, saying, doing, or voting on.” This would appear to be a state of being that is almost the exact opposite of Facebook and social media…

I guess what a struggled with was the way it felt that Laird was prescribing a particular set of practices to everyone, regardless of their context or their personality type. I would agree with the objective, creating space for God to speak, for God to take us by surprise – but I think perhaps there is room for other methods – for some of us our brains are perhaps just too restless for sustained silence – they need something to do to stop the thoughts going round and round and chasing their tails.