Silence and Struggle

Last week I spent the final days of Holy Week (called the triduum) at Holy Cross Monastery, an Anglican Benedictine center, located in West Park, New York. I have always found a disconnect between the demands of retail and the requirements of serious Lenten observation. It is hard to be at one moment in a bustling book store and the next moment in a Good Friday observance of Jesus' crucifixion or a Maundy Thursday footwashing. The deep and profound issues of Holy Week have to do with political structures, death, hope, renewal and new life. These are somber matters not easily contemplated in front of a cash register or while opening a box of incoming books or when providing customer service to an irrate customer.

My expectation in going to Holy Cross was that it would provide me with a space for pondering the Lenten narrative with other like-minded persons. I knew that there would be frequent liturgical celebrations throughout the day in which the Scriptures would be read, chanted and silently reflected upon. Within a day I needed to acquaint myself with the ancient terms for these liturgical moments: matins, diurnum, vespers, compline. The monks welcomed about thirty or so of us from across the United States into their monastery with graciousness and good hospitality.

It was announced that there would be silence in the monastery from Maunday Thursday services and footwashing until after breakfast on Holy Saturday. While packing, I had thought of taking my earphones and some cd's but at the last minute I decided not to do this. The idea of the silence was to provide a setting for deep reflection and prayer. The monks put up signs all over the monastery reminding us of the silent order of things.

Even though I live by myself, there is always the cd player, the television, the radio, the telephone and frequent visits to break any silence. At work, in addition to staff and customers, there is always the overhead music system blaring out strange combinations of classics, rock, blues, bluegrass, hip hop . . . . .

So I welcomed the silence with enthusiasm. I slept more. I read a good deal in the comfortable monastery reading room (including an important book by Columbia economist Jeffrey Sacks titled Ending Poverty that I hope to review eventually on this blog). And I did engage in meditation and prayer.

There is no way that I can express how much this experience with silence had a cleansing effect on my mind and on my body. To use an overused metaphor, it felt like rain in the desert. By not battling an array of imposed sounds, I was able to focus on important matters . . . . . or to even choose not to focus on anything. At the end of the two-day silence, I felt more whole and stronger.

Since returning to Indianapolis, I have been thinking about where persons who are on the outside of power structures or who are in some way counter-cultural get the strength to resist or to oppose things. I mean, as should be clear on this blog site I am distressed by many of the actions of the current United States administration. I also disagree with many of the assumptions of large numbers of Americans about gender, consumerism, relations with the world and with ethnic groups in the USA and a host of other issues. All of this is so big and overwhelming that sometimes I am tempted to just throw in the towel . . . . . and yet, I believe in resistance and opposition as critical activities.

Surely, we get strength for resistance and opposition from community or contact with other like-minded persons. For me this comes through my work in the church or Amnesty International or the ACLU. But the sources of strength need to come from beyond activism and ideas.

And this is where frequent practice of silence and meditation come in. In silence it is possible for the inner part of ourselves to be refreshed. It is possible to sort out and reflect upon our ideas, gaining new perspectives and approaches. It is possible in silence to create new spaces for the reception of new ways of doing things.

For me, this means that I need to declare silent days right here in Indianapolis. Of course, this is not easy. But I need to declare rest from noise and sound and talking so that my soul can be nurtured and refreshed. One thing I am thinking of doing is "keeping silence" from Sunday evening through noon on Mondays. Maybe this is just a short period but it can provide the strength that I personally am looking for in order to engage in the larger struggle as a progressive person.

In all of this I am inspired by the practice of persons like Thomas Merton, Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi and others who knew how to engage in careful meditation and silence while participating fully in some key historic struggles.