This is a painful section to write about because I am extremely afraid of a great many things at the minute. I am disappointed in how cripplingly afraid I am just now. I read this week, in my Psalms book, that the fear of the Lord drives out all other fears, but while I believe that in my head, I am like the Poet who shakes his head despairingly at his inability to live it out and goes on feeling sorry for himself.
So here is Kierkegaard writing about the silence we learn from the natural world which retains silence, despite the whispering of the noises it may make. This silence is not my starting point; I work back to silence from my starting point of prayers, even fervent ones. And when I find myself in fear and trembling before God, my voice falls mute.
Now what I can understand is that Kierkegaard says that this kind of silence is the first place to seek the Kingdom of God, not in all the "shall I do this?" or "shall I do that" questions we ask ourselves about doing God's will. What I find difficult to accept is Kierkegaard's idea that human beings and God "cannot very well talk with one another". This appalled me, after years of being taught that God is always near me, hearing what I say. But I think I do know that all my prattling belittles an unbelittle-able God and that indeed "only in much fear and trembling" should I come with awe before Almighty God. Or might we at this point disagree with even Kierkegaard? Can we come with great respect, but also very well talk with one another?
However, coming back to the fear. This process of becoming silent is the beginning of the fear of God (which could drive out all my other fears), and this is the beginning of wisdom. And I could do with a whole truck-load of that right now.
This prayer, this "art in the ability to keep silent", enables us to listen. I'll admit that at this point all my warning bells are ringing because here comes another fear of mine, on top of all the other ones, that I may think I'm listening and hearing, but I'm remembering all the things I've done based on things I have thought I've heard, and look how they turned out? But, Kierkegaard says the bird keeps silent and waits. It waits for the moment, and it needs to stay really quiet because the moment comes and goes without herald or clamour, and the moment rarely comes for us because we can't keep silent to know it or make use of it.
But the bird knows that the moment will come at the right time and its silence shows that it believes this. And when it sees the moment come, it makes use of it, and "is never put to shame". "Only in silence is the moment." This is a very frightening thought. That it is so easy, and so common, for us to miss the moment. There's another fear then, for then we presumably are put to shame. But Gretchen, there's more: here's the next section, "The bird keeps silent and suffers"...
That's as far as I'm going this week. This is why I rarely finish a Christian book. I get to the end of the first chapter and think I can't seriously read on until I've put that into practice. And of course I never do. So, with all hope that I will continue, I am going to see if I can work back to the beginning now. To enter this winter of what seems to be global discontent with a working back from even fervent prayers to silence. Hoping to begin a holy fear that might chase out all other fears, and from there to listen, but to listen and hear aright. And yes, like the bird, I will be keeping silent and suffering. Until the moment comes, if I realise it.
I do actually need to read on from that!
2 comments:
That book does sound a bit discouraging! I have a good bit of fear too. If I thought that I might miss an essential spiritual moment of communion with God, if I were not silent ... goodness! I would miss it all. But I do agree that we are too bent on doing, and not on being. Too busy, and not listening enough in quiet.
I can only guess at what Kierkegaard meant, the way he would express these important things if we had no obstacles to our communication. I am so far removed from his era, to begin with, but also from him as a unique, male, "original" thinker of his time. So I feel humbled, even shamed, if you will, that I have somehow led you to think it makes sense to address your questions as to me.
That being said, I will plunge ahead!! The message of this man, at least in this book, sounds so much like what I have learned from the Orthodox Christian tradition. But I have really learned so little of it I should be ashamed to speak of these things. Please forgive my presumption and may the Lord make you forget everything that might be unhelpful.
The fathers do not expect that anyone can start from silence. There is too much noise in our minds, even if we say no words aloud. We must start with praying as Christ and the Church have taught us, the Lord's prayer, the Psalter, the prayers of the prayer book, the Hours, the Jesus Prayer.
And much of the time, they say, we are not likely to get as far as that deep prayer where one can hear the silence that is God's voice. Prayer is not a tool by which we can manipulate our Maker; all we can do is make ourselves ready for His gifts. But the discipline of it is how make use of those many moments and minutes while we wait on Him, using the words that are most likely to prepare us, because they order our minds aright. It's a great challenge to "really pray" extemporaneously, because it often is so obviously "prattling," as you call it.
Another thing about that moment of listening, is that it's not a useful word we are waiting to hear. What we want to hear is the Silence of the Word, the Logos, Christ Himself. It is a state of being more than listening... "listening" makes us think of hearing instruction, or getting an answer -- very pragmatic interests. But what we need most is HIM. Not the belief or the faith that He is with us and taking care of us, but Himself as our very existence, the Holy Spirit imparting Him when He chooses to give Himself. HE is the Love that casts out fear.
As to the fear that we might miss the moment... He is that real, that I don't think you could miss it. Even when you are rotely saying prayers out of love and desire and not "feeling" anything, you know by faith He is present in that moment and giving you existence, giving you the grace to pray even feebly. I think of it something like this earthly example: You and your husband have been so busy for days, you've hardly had time to look at each other. The children, your work, the homeowner worries, all have kept you occupied with decisions when you are in the same room. And other times, one or the other of you is in an unreceptive or distracted mood. Then, one evening, you end up on the sofa together. The TV isn't on, you aren't in possession of your phones, no children are around, and you realize you have his complete attention; he looks in your eyes with love, and is not asking anything of you. When you realize it, that is the moment.
I think you would appreciate the books on prayer by Anthony Bloom. I have been thinking about his writings (they were lectures, actually) while writing, and just now found a passage in Courage to Pray (that sounds apt, doesn't it! haha):
"If we remembered that every encounter with God and every deep encounter with man is a judgment, a crisis, we would seek God both more wholeheartedly and more cautiously. We would not be bitter if this encounter did not immediately take place. We would approach God with a trembling heart. In this way we would avoid many disappointments, many useless efforts, because God would not give himself to us if we could not bear the encounter. He prepares us for it, and sometimes by a long wait."
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