Lent Reflection, Day 28: Silence

In my life today, I adore silence.  Silence in my life now means that my children are sleeping, that my dishes are done, and that the seemingly constant demands upon my life have been met (if even only temporarily.)  Silence means that, if only for a brief moment, I can sit in a space of time that is vacant and not feel the pressure to fill that vacancy with busy-ness or thought.  Silence, for me, is an indulgence–a time to pay attention just to the quiet thoughts in my head–in which I don’t have to be concerned for anyone, helping anyone, encouraging anyone but myself.  In silence, I don’t have to be thinking outwardly at all.

I don’t think that in today’s busy, over-scheduled, over-marketed, constant-noise society, I’m the only one who values the benefits of silence…even if the constant chant of society is that we don’t value it enough.

Which is why it was hard for me to read that, in Scripture, silence is most often not a good thing.  And it is not a good thing for the very same reasons that I value it–for it’s self centeredness, for it’s lack of movement, for it’s disregard of others.

Job talks about silence the most: “Will your idle talk reduce others to silence?  Will no one rebuke you when you mock?” “He silences the lips of trusted advisers and takes away the discernment of elders.” “Yet I am not silenced by the darkness, by the thick darkness that covers my face.”

Psalms comes in a close second, saying “Every morning I will put to silence all the wicked in the land…” “Whoever slanders their neighbor in secret, I will put to silence…” “Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death.”

I know these are just quick snippets with no context and some pretty stark language, but hopefully you can still grasp my point: in Scripture, silence is something that is reserved for the wicked or incapable because “to be silenced” often means “not to contribute.”  To be made to sit in silence means to be rendered useless, harmful, or–worse–dead.  If you were silent, you were not proclaiming.  If you were silent, you were not defending.  If you were silent, you were either forced to be that way, or you were just flat out lazy.

Martin Luther King, Jr. had the same issue with silence.  “In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”  And again, “History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.”  And again, “The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people.”  MLK, Jr. is joined by Eli Weisel, “I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation.  We must always take sides.  Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.  Silence encourages the tormenter, never the tormented.”  These men, who dedicated their lives to breaking the silences surrounding racial oppression and the Holocaust, respectively, see silence as permission.  Permission for the status quo to carry on.  Permission for oppression to remain unchallenged.  Permission for evil to have more power over good.

Don’t hear me wrong: I’m not saying that we should never be still or take rest.  I mean, let’s be real–if God decides to take a rest, then I think that’s permission enough.  But what I am saying is that, for as loud and noisy and busy as our society is, we sure are silent the vast majority of the time.  We are silent about big things, like extreme poverty and genocide, and we are silent about quieter things, like mental illness and addiction.

Talking incessantly is not the same as breaking the silence.

Just as being cognitively aware of the injustices of this world is no competition for the self-absorbed silences that we often conduct our actions in.

“To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men.” –Abraham Lincoln