WHO STEWARDS THE SILENCE

“Let there always be quiet, dark places in which people can take refuge.  Places where they can kneel in silence.  Houses of God, filled with God’s silent presence…a place where your mind can be idle, and forget its concerns, descend into silence, and worship God in secret.  There can be no contemplating where there is no secret.” - Thomas Merton

“Those whose actions sin (steal the joy from their neighbors) should be reprimanded in the presence of all, that the rest may fear (sense the dignity and reverence of the community)” (1 Timothy 5:20). The young up to the age of 15 should, however, be carefully controlled and supervised by everyone…” - Benedictine Rule, Chapter 70

“Human community is the universal obligation to live fully ourselves and to live well with others. […] Benedictine spirituality depends on personal commitment and community support…” - Sr. Joan Chittister

Preface - Communal Good & The Right Action Within Community:

While reading Charles Ringma’s commentary on Jacques Ellul, I read Ringma’s interpretation of Ellul’s posture. He (Ellul) writes, “What is not acceptable to God is that we should decide on our own what is good and what is evil. Biblically, the good is, in fact, the will of God.” Ringma adds, “For the Christian, what is good must be determined by a wisdom beyond ourselves… And the will of God is never simply a matter of outward precepts (external principles). It is never just a matter of not stealing. It also has to do with generosity.”

Ringma predicates the entire commentary upon this idea that there are different understandings of what is good (and right). “Some think that the good is to be determined by the majority in a society. Others claim that the good can only be what the individual wills. Others think that the good is what is beneficial for most people. And even where there are common understandings, there are different ideas as to how the good is to be achieved.”

Stewarding The Silence:

Returning to the Benedictine way of navigating communal good and well-being, there is an emphasis on collective responsibility. In terms of “sin” or an action that transgresses the good and joy of neighbor, a restorative action that brings restitution to that which has been lessened by force, dominance, or coercion. Monastic communities have, for centuries, held to this way, which applies to both older and younger members in unique expressions. The young (Benedict says “up to the age of 15”) are to be “supervised” by everyone, even “controlled.” But this control should be reasonable and measured, not reactive and hyperextended.

Bring Ellul and Benedict together; I imagine something like this: In communal life, from monastic to parish, we do not get to decide the good and right on our own. The good and the right are located “outside” of us in “the will of God,” which is never reducible to one’s opinion, perception, and preferences. The good and the right are also never a simple matter of outward precepts. The good and the right are always founded upon the goodness of God, which is neither calloused law nor arrogant antinomianism. For example, it is never just a matter of “not stealing” (from me) but it also has to do with “generosity” (toward them).

In church life, which is the mystical body of Christ in all of its full-bodied, full-spectrum messiness (funkiness), learning how to share space and time (sacred dimension and sacred moment) is filled with incarnational awkwardness. Benedict points to the young, who are learning to exist within “holy joining.” He says that it is the entire community’s responsibility to cultivate virtue within the young, especially if they’re veering away from loving mutuality and sacred reverence for the other.

Imagine a garden. The young plants need careful tending – weeding out that which usurps or robs the good. The trellis is there to serve the vine; the structure is for the life of the plant. In the same way, God gives an Incarnational Form for “the life of the world.” Care and discipline are simply an acknowledgment of the Incarnation: the Word made Flesh. By being present and guiding young people, we can help them cultivate essential virtues like kindness, mindfulness of others, mutuality, and shared responsibility. Even more, we can help illuminate a humanizing path that recognizes a central reality: we must steward the silence together. We must steward the stillness together. In other words, we much learn non-violence together.

At the heart of violence is this belief: I can do what I want to you through force, domination, and coercion. I can (knowingly or subconsciously) reduce you to a thing, an it, and not a human being worthy of loving distance and non-transgression. When teachers teach boundaries in classroom settings, they are teaching non-violence. While the crude axiom of liberalism, “your will ends where mine begins,” fails to meet the Christian ethic, a closer idea would be we are all called to be willingly kentotic. This is our shared vocation from baptism: “In (y)our relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient (to death)…” And this call is to all the baptized. All in the church, young and old. Chittister points out that “Human community is the universal obligation to live fully ourselves.” Then, she locates the only way for that to occur non-violently by being fully ourselves and living well with others. Both can and must occur. If being my full self displaces you, I’ve yet to discover the harmony of my full self and I’ve robbed you of yours.

The Christian life is learning how to love, which means seeing the other as precisely that: the other, placed at an almost reverent distance, leaving one incapable of owning, possessing, manipulating, or using. To steward the stillness and silence, we must first acknowledge that spaces, including houses of God, can be coopted and dominated, possessed and manipulated by a dominant assertion into the air and moment. Traditionally, the church has held a deep understanding that our younger members are still learning the art of love and mutuality. Love is not too distant, not too familiar; it is precisely the space between where two stand in relationship. In love, one is neither dominated nor abandoned. This is precisely where the church is called to worship; the Table neither dominates nor abandons but shares a holy space, an invitation to stand in loving mutuality. Another word for this is “stillness.” In stillness, I commit no transgressing action upon you. In stillness, you commit no transgressing action upon me. Worship is the highest expression of this, and we are all called to participate and steward this stillness and silence.

The critical quality of “all” is that this principle remains multidirectional and not oppressive toward any group. Returning to Ellul (and Ringma), it is never just a matter of “not stealing” (from me) but it also has to do with “generosity” (toward them). Within the relationship of gathered worship, it is never just a matter of a safe space for our young but also a safe space for our older members who often embody everything that Merton implores: a quiet place to take refuge in. “Places where they can kneel in silence and sense God’s silent presence.” This is a place where their minds “can be idle and forget its concerns, descend into silence, and worship God in secret. There can be no contemplating where there is no secret.” Our older brothers and sisters have to endure the world in a different way. Sickness, poverty, disease, oppression, and violence are present to them uniquely and differently than our younger siblings. We must honor their health and attention without detracting from the sensitivities that make our younger siblings know they are welcome.

If maturity is the ongoing widening of love until my neighbor's concerns are absorbed into mine, we must help our siblings, who are still in the first half of life, find the path to this. The argument could be made that it is the older’s responsibility to enact this practice and to submit to younger siblings’ needs, but this becomes a loop of relativism lacking a telos, an aim. It is also oppressive belonging where the further you get through life, the less you matter, and the less dignity is bestowed upon you. This culture displaces elders. If the aim is to indeed foster a sacred shared space, then love must be omnidirectional. Anything less is oppressive.

The question must then be asked: How do we balance the bond of play and worship, noise and silence, giggles and tears? A laugh at the wrong moment can be the most insensitive gesture. The dominance of a scream severs our neighbors from their sacred silence and stillness.

Here is a fundamental reality to this dynamic: the air is shared. This is the foundational lesson our children must learn. When they’re taught through inaction that they can dominate it (the air), they learn force (violence). Our spaces must be safe for all, not just some. We all steward the stillness. We all are responsible for the silence. We all share (in holy joining) the sacred tending to Merton’s call: quiet spaces in which people can take refuge.  “Places where they can kneel in silence. Houses of God, filled with God’s silent presence…” This, of course, has always found its highest expression in Eucharistic adoration. This responsibility is the privilege of all. For those who do not yet understand this privilege, Benedict says it is the vocational commitment of “everyone” to help tend to the garden of their attention…to help them find the trellis. They are to be “supervised by everyone.”

Again, it is never just a matter of comfort and ease for our youngest members. Organizing sacred spaces around youth has been a detrimental trend of Big Box churches that have displaced millions of worshippers, sacrificing intergenerational worship on the altars of novelty. This is the dispossession not only of our older siblings but, in an ideological sense, of the communion of saints. When relevance is attached to youth, we mar the image of God. We design our own displacement by crafting a reduced ethic of care. We are all growing older in a culture where agism is diseasing human relationships. This, however, is less of an issue in Native and indigenous cultures, along with Black and Brown cultures, which incorporate older generations into their wisdom traditions and spirituality. An excellent example is the cherished preservation of hymnology within BIPOC worship communities.

It’s a tragic thing when the sounds of our youngest are not heard within worshipping bodies. It is equally tragic when the refuge of silence and stillness has been discarded for expediency. Love is not oriented toward punishment. To love our younger siblings who have yet to learn the boundaries of sacred common space, we need not fall prey to punishment. Punishment is a backward-looking, reactive approach. It focuses on inflicting some kind of penalty. Discipline, however, is oriented toward mutuality. It is a forward-looking, proactive approach. Discipline focuses on teaching and guiding someone toward better choices in the future for the sake of love, which neither abandons nor dominates. Discipline communicates love with consequences that illuminate a better path. Love aims to correct a dominating behavior so that there may be a shared, universal obligation to do both: be fully ourselves and live well with others in ways that steward the silence for the “I and Thou,” you and me.

From here, we live in a holy reality that this is not yours or mine but ours—which is to say His (the Body of Christ).

I’d like to finish with an excerpt from Fr. Richard Rohr who mentioned the relationship between young and old in worship. I find it to be a lovely balance.

“Strictly speaking, little ones are not in the first half of life. They're little, lovable animals. You understand? We all love them…Well, I think we have to grant the the older generation space. But they if they are truly second half of life people, not just chronologically, but really soulfully, then they're going to be the first to understand the necessity of the extended family.

The extended family is the nature of the church. That doesn't mean they can't have different classes or be in different rooms and so forth. But it is bothersome very often how older people are so bothered by the noise of children…And that tells me they're elderly, but they're not elders yet.

But, they also have to know that you are doing something to protect their quiet time too, or their quiet space or their quiet room. Not all the time, but once in a while. Okay.”

Let it be so, Amen.