Quotations

By listening deeply to the message of any given moment, I shall be able to tap the very Source of Meaning and to realize the unfolding meaning of my life. To listen in this way means to listen with one's heart, with one's whole being. The heart stands for that center of our being at which we are truly "together." Together with ourselves, not split up into intellect, will, emotions, into mind and body. Together with all other creatures, for the heart is that realm where I am paradoxically not only most intimately myself, but most intimately united with all. Together with God, the source of life, the life of my life, welling up in the heart. In order to listen with my heart, I must return again and again to my heart through a process of centering, through taking things to heart. Listening with my heart I will find meaning.

"What begins in a search through nothingness for God and for meaning ends in friendship. In our surrender we come to know God as friend: 'I shall not call you servants anymore ... I call you friends.' Without friendships something is dead within us. Just as a healthy openness, frankness, sincerity and an attitude of respect are fundamental as a foundation for prayer, these qualities are also developed in friendship. For deep friendship brings an empathetic knowledge of the other, an understanding that comes from love and compassion.

Friends grow together ... challenge each other. Friends have the power to draw the best out of us. To have formed a few very deep friendships is the blessing of a lifetime. Silence offers us the luxury of deepening our friendship with God ... of knowing how dearly we are loved by God. The Beloved will speak to us within our self-understanding, love us within our self-acceptance and celebrate with us when we celebrate with our friends."

I used to be stone deaf. I would see people stand up and go through all kinds of gyrations. They called it dancing. It looked absurd to me -- until one day I heard the music!

i am a little church (far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish) at peace with nature
i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing.

The meaning of the contemplative life -- of all spiritual life -- is love. Love is at once the origin, the means, and the goal of human spirituality, and when seen through spiritual eyes, the meaning of life in its entirety is love. God's love is endless, boundless without qualifications. Love must create, and we human beings and all the rest of creation are continually born in and from God's love. Creation brings forth diversity and separation. This permits a sense of "me and you," "I and thou," lover and beloved. In other words, we are created as unique individuals so that we may love God and one another. Love is the reason for our being. In our individuality and separateness, each of us is given a longing for re-union, a yearning for the greater fulfillment of love. In the endless movements of love, there is delicate beauty, majestic power, unbearable joy and considerable pain -- and freedom.

And, from Mother Teresa:

God is the friend of silence. We need to find God
But we cannot find God in noise, in excitement.

See how nature, the trees, the flowers, the grass
Grow in deep silence ... the stars, the moon and the sun
Move in silence ...

The fruit of silence is prayer. The fruit of prayer
Is faith. The fruit of faith is love.
The fruit of love is service ...
(The fruit of service is peace.)

As a solitary bird
I am fond of solitude
Silently I direct my flight
toward a transcendent horizon
Freed and beauty bound
my heart sings a love song
In the still point of my peace-center
my life is a song of love
in unison with the divine love song
that calls forth the world
in sacred harmony.

I said to my soul, be still
and wait without hope,
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing;
wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing;
there is yet faith,
But the faith and love and hope
are all in the waiting;
Wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought;
So the darkness shall be the light,
and the stillness the dancing.

If there is any focus that the spiritual leader of the future will need, it is the discipline of dwelling in the presence of the One who keeps asking us, "Do you love me? Do you love me?" It is the discipline of contemplative prayer. Through contemplative prayer we can keep ourselves from becoming strangers to our own and God's heart. Contemplative prayer keeps us home, rooted and safe, even when we are on the road, moving from place to place, and often surrounded by sounds of violence and war. Contemplative prayer deepens in us the knowledge that we are already free, that we have already found a place to dwell, that we already belong to God, even though everything and everyone around us keep suggesting the opposite.

Giving yourself up to love is falling, with complete abandon, into the hands of the living God. This is the deep, interior prayer for which we have been striving. Here we must let go our dependency on thoughts, words, and images. We go into the beautiful darkness. We stop struggling. We let the angels carry us. We let go even of our yearning for God. Nothing is left except being in God. What could I say that would matter when I am in the heart of God? Contemplation! It is like going to heaven for a while.

When disaster comes unexpected, we discover the strength of our underpinning faith. Such was the destiny of a mother in Armenia:

When the earthquake hit, a mother and her child plummeted several stories as their apartment building crumpled. They were trapped in a tiny space in the basement barely able to move amidst the rubble. Dressed only in her slip and pinned down by beams, the mother --- thrust into a long, uninterrupted silence -- comforted her child for eight days and eight nights with her love. When the child had finished one jar of jam that had landed near them, she kept begging her mother for something to drink. Realizing they would both die without water, the mother scratched as far she could reach and found a shard of glass. One by one, she cut her fingers and hour by hour, she fed her child her own life blood. One the ninth day the rescuers found them. Out of the cold, dark prison, they were raised to new life.

In this one microcosmic miracle, the love & faith of the mother, the trust of the child, the prayers of the family, friends and neighbors, the concerned commitment of the rescuers, the silent contemplatives of the world were all united heart-to-heart by macrocosmic Love. "The secret of spirituality is the uncovering of this kind of life exchange, this very real and very visible interconnectedness that makes all of creation ONE."

Those in love have a secret. Their gestures and voices and eyes communicate it. They rush to "wake the dawn" and warn the world of love's peculiar logic. They speak a new language and walk with new grace. They learn the dance of life, listening and opening, the rhythm of intimacy and ecstasy. They reverberate with the cosmos as it breathes in unison and blends the sources of silence and sound.

More and more people are discovering that one of Jesus' greatest gifts is the sharing of his life with us through the bread and wine of each day ... and, one of the greatest gifts that we can give to each other is the sharing of our selves. Alice Howell, through her book THE DOVE IN THE STONE: FINDING THE SACRED IN THE COMMONPLACE, gifted me recently with a remembrance of my own Dove story, which I offer to you:

Alone at home one winter's evening, while sitting on the couch barely aware of the snowstorm beating at the window, I wept into the Silence. After a long time, the sobs abated and an anger welled up within from the depths of despair. For the second time in my life, I cried out loud to God, "You promised You would not give us more than we can bear -- this is my limit, so please do something!" Then I covered my face with my hands and the tears continued to flow -- yet, with no accompanying sobs. In less than two minutes, I heard a soft noise at the window and turned to look. There on the outside sill sat a most beautiful white dove. Even though I thought this "couldn't be", there she was just BE-ing for me. We meditated on one another for maybe three minutes. I closed my eyes in a prayer of gratitude for the peace and love which now enveloped me. When I opened them, though the visitation had ended, the dove's imprint continued to live in my heart!

And sometimes now, as I sit in the Silence, I smile in wonder at the infinite variety of ways God creates to knock at the door of our soul, to love and to comfort us in our sorrows, to surprise us with new Life.

Life is so filled with paradox! Words so often get in the way -- yet, we go into the Silence to hear the Word. And what a blessing are the words of Scripture, the words of individuals in every age that continue to live as gift. Isaac of Niniveh, a Syrian monk, offers us reflections on silence:

"If you love truth, be a lover of silence. Silence like the sunlight will illuminate you in God and will deliver you from the phantoms of ignorance. Silence will unite you to God ... More than all things love silence: it brings you a fruit that tongue cannot describe. In the beginning we have to force ourselves to be silent. But then there is born something that draws us to silence. May God give you an experience of this "something" that is born of silence. If only you practice this, untold light will dawn on you in consequence ... After a while, a certain sweetness is born in the heart and the body is drawn almost by force to remain in silence."

As we begin the second year of this little newsletter, please know of the joy and gratitude received and given through our mutual sharing and prayer. That our "membership" almost quadrupled is perhaps an indication of how many hidden contemplatives live and work in our busy and noisy world. How crucial our Silence is for the balance and transformation of our planet!

In the November issue, having asked if anyone knew of THE ROLL, what a delight to discover a complementary group offering an in-depth, quarterly newsletter. Schola Contemplationis, dedicated to global spirituality, is a networking community for contemplatives in the world, at home and in monasteries.

"This is a new, yet genuine, way of 'living together', appropriate to the twentieth century, in which communication and interdependence enable us to dwell in the 'global village.' Schola (like Friends of Silence) seeks to provide a medium through which contemplatives who find themselves in need of support and companionship can minister to one another."

Advent's silence reaches us as Love:

At the very heart of our experience, each of us has an intuitive sense of the value of unconditional love. We discover great joy when we can love without reservation, suspending judgments and opening fully to the vivid reality of another's being. Unconditional love has tremendous power, activating a larger energy which connects us with the vastness and profundity of what it is to be human. This energy is the energy of the heart ... This energy is the Love of Christ.

Advent is a season to ponder "all these things" in our hearts:

Thomas Merton calls us all to contemplation in his book of Contemplative Prayer ...

" ... the most important need in the world today is the inner truth nourished by the Spirit of contemplation -- the praise and love of God, the longing for the coming of Christ, the thirst for the manifestation of God's glory, truth and justice -- the Kingdom of God in the world."

Practicing Silence is the art of letting down the barrier that separates our rational consciousness from the depth of our soul ... of coming into touch with the spiritual world in a way that opens our whole being to the reality of the creative and integrating center -- to the Risen Christ ... In silence we meet the reality of the inner voice from God which gives inspiration, guidance and direction, and transformation.

The gift of Silence is to allow the Christ to bring the split-off, conflicting parts of our being into fruitful relationship, and at the same time, to deliver us from destructive evil which seeks to keep us fragmented and operating unconsciously. In this way, we are brought together and given a single eye -- that new center of being which allows us to operate at more nearly full potential, creatively and freed from giving in to destructive impulses.

On a dark afternoon -- I was ten or eleven -- I was walking on a country road, on my left a patch of curly kale, on my right some yellowed Brussel sprouts. I felt a snowflake on my cheek, and from far away in the charcoal-gray sky I saw the approach of a snowstorm. I stood still. Some flakes were now falling around my feet. A few melted as they hit the ground. Others stayed intact. Then I heard the falling of the snow, with the softest hissing sound.

I stood transfixed, listening ... and knew what can never be expressed: that the natural is supernatural, and that I am the eye that hears and the ear that sees, that what is outside happens in me, that outside and inside are unseparated. It is the inexpressible, and the inexpressible is the only thing that it is worthwhile expressing.

The Word not only reveals God, it unveils us. The Word is consecratory -- continuing to change us more and more into God's image so that we can hear and understand how God is speaking in us. For the Word that God speaks is deposited deeply within. The womb of the mind and heart must be readied, waiting and responsive. The Word does not simply imprint itself. It embeds itself, releasing seeds that fall on the earth of our hearts. And these Word-seeds will mature in their own time, so that we may become the Word.

The Word of God always renders God present to us. When we have the desire and openness to hear, in the Silence we can ask, "What is the Word of God that is being uttered in me? What is the Word of God inviting me to become?" And as we experience God's word deep within us, we are compelled to share it with others, to act out of God's presence within us. Happy are those who hear the Word and make it their own!

Only the one who can bear silence will hear the voice of God.

That is not to suggest that we can live harmlessly, or strictly at our own expense; we depend upon other creatures and survive by their deaths. To live, we must daily break the body and shed the blood of Creation. When we do this knowingly, lovingly, skillfully, reverently, it is a sacrament. When we do it ignorantly, greedily, clumsily, destructively, it is a desecration. In such desecration we condemn ourselves to spiritual and moral loneliness, and others to want.