JM 2004 April
Article
Alexander Ryrie
Silence: a mysterious reality
Different kinds of silence
…There is a silence within us, at the inner centre of ourselves, which is something deeper, more mysterious and more difficult to identify. Beneath our conscious and unconscious mental activity, beneath the turmoil of our minds and feelings, at the centre of our inner selves there is a place of stillness and quietness, a still point in our turning world. This is the silence not of the wide open spaces, but of the deep pool. There are depths within us which we cannot fathom, which seem to have no bottom, and in these depths, at the very heart of ourselves, there is a profound silence. We are not usually aware of it. Most of the time our minds are active; we are occupied with thoughts and intentions of all kinds and moved by a variety of feelings and impulses. All of this is noise that obscures our silent depths. Even more than the silence around us, the silence within us is overlaid and covered up by a constant hubbub of mental activity. The surface of the pool is disturbed and muddied by the busyness of our minds. But deep below this activity, below the rippling surface, there is quietness. And if we attend to it and learn how to listen to it, we can begin to “hear” it.
And there is yet another kind of silence, something more profound and mysterious still – the silence of God. We are used to the idea that God “speaks.” We think of our contact with God as taking place largely through words – our words spoken to him, and his word addressed to us. But God’s word itself arises out of silence. What we call God’s word is his communication to human beings, expressed in part in the form of human words; but this is not his being or essence. God’s being is beyond all words. It is a mystery which human thought cannot grasp or language describe, and which we can only faintly discern, but it can be represented by silence. “God is silence”, says Abraham of Nathpar, “and in silence is he sung and glorified.” Behind God’s spoken word, at the heart of God himself, there is a silence which enshrouds the deep mystery of God. There is no adequate analogy to this mystery. We may say that this is the silence not of the wide open spaces of nature, nor of the deep pools of water, but of the distant stars and the far-flung universe. But even this metaphor falls short and collapses before the mystery of the silence of God. It is not a silence that we can “hear” like the silence of the world around us; but we can dimly sense it, and be drawn towards it. There is a strange connection between this silence and the silence at the heart of our inner selves, a reciprocal relation which no metaphor can adequately express, a wonderful exchange between us and God through the medium of silence. Our silence, we may say, “echoes” the unspoken silence of God, reaches out to it, and is enfolded in it. In a mysterious way God communicates with our inner heart through his silence.
These different kinds of silence are not disconnected and separate: they connect with each other and can lead into one another. It is this that makes the prayer of silence possible and forms its basis. The silence of the world around us connects with the deeper silence of our hearts; and this connects with the mysterious silence of God. It is in this way that silence becomes not just a prerequisite for prayer but prayer itself. As we learn to listen to and enter the silence that underlies the noise that usually surrounds us, we find we can go down into the pool of silence that lies within us; and this in turn leads us into the deep silence of God. One form of silence draws us on and down into the next. As Saint Isaac of Nineveh has said, “Out of this silence something is born that leads to silence itself.” It is through being drawn into these deeper forms of silence that we engage in silent prayer.
Another way of expressing this is to say that silence is sacramental. If a natural object of some aspect of the life of the world has the power to point beyond itself and lead us to God, it can be called “sacramental.” This can be said, for example, of holy places, or of some kinds of art and music. Some of these may reflect some particular aspect of the character of God and make that real for us in a way that words cannot express. Silence is one such thing. When the natural silence of the world around us draws us down to the silence within us, this in turn leads sacramentally to the deep silence of God and points us towards the mystery of his being.
Love silence
Engaging in the prayer of silence involves making a practice of entering this silence. As we do so we come to treasure and cherish it. We discover that it can flow over and enfold us, like the warmth of a heated room on a cold winter’s day. We find that it is full of potential and possibilities: that it is the seed bed for the development of our inner life. That is not to say that it is always pleasant and comforting, for it has a darker side as well. For those who are constantly surrounded by noise it may at first seem strange and lonely, and perhaps even frightening. As we shall see, entering the silence both around us and within us can at times be unnerving. But as we persevere, it becomes something that we love, because it leads us towards the rich fruit of a deeper and more fulfilling relationship with God, which our tongues cannot express. As Isaac of Nineveh has said, “Love silence above all things because it brings us close to the fruit which the tongue cannot express.”
Alexander Ryrie, “Wonderful Exchange: An Exploration of Silent Prayer”, Canterbury Press Norwich 2003. Reproduced by permission. This extract is taken from pages 6 to 9.
Poem
Margaret Field
Winter reflection
Breath iced, sharp, bright air,
Frost pinned bracken, rind-rimmed, still,
Stone hard ground, ringing each footfall beneath silent trees –
Frozen to crisp wide sky.
Cold blue, beauty – soaking senses in wonder, upwelling joy,
Flooding each moment – heart full – what more could be asked?
Sun-touched treasury, glittering in hoar frosted ferns.
Etched in an instant – bright birdsong, warming the soul with blessing.
Entwined, bursting to overflowing praise – beyond words.
Deep refreshing deep to breathe reverent thanks in sweet pure notes,
Held in infinite love.
Meditation
Colin Sutton
Be Still
Be still,
Give time to God
time and space
to speak from deep within you,
from the very heart of all that makes you unique.
Be silent,
let go of all the darting words
that keep your mind in motion.
Let God speak the healing words
that will make you whole from your centre
to the farthest reaches of your mind and body.
Embrace the silence, which is so much more
than lack of noise and banishing invading thoughts.
Be open to the gentle breath of God
that comes upon the Spirit’s graceful wing.
Why be tired and stale and dull,
when life in all its fullness opens out before you?
Be patient, persevere,
break through the boredom barrier yet again.
Do not try to make the prayer,
but let the Spirit pray in you through a silent groaning:
the giving birth that is itself both form and content
of God’s own word in you.
Expect no instant miracles,
no crutches flying through the air.
Welcome the Son who will rise in you
at any time of day or night.
Despite the veiling of your failings, doubts, despair,
let the light shine through.
Out of the silence of your heart,
out of the stillness of your mind and body,
return to the noise,
to the pull and push of life’s perpetual motion;
but take the still centre with you
treasure the elusive freedom
of the soaring, diving stilling Dove;
and so without words hear the Father’s voice
and know yourself welcomed as a beloved child,
sent out to start afresh your daily mission.
But remember, the only way forward is to go back,
once more to be silent, stilled
to give time and space to God…
This meditation was inspired by some words on a prayer card: “Silence before God has little to do with achieving, but a great deal to do with receiving.”
Article
Judith Filkin
Unwelcome insight
Doing the housework this morning it suddenly came to me that I should be praying both for Nicholas van Hoogstraten and also for Holly and Jessica’s murderer.
What a perfectly appalling idea. I need insights like that like a hole in the head.
For some years now I have glumly prayed not only for the Amnesty prisoners for whom I write, but also for the Heads of State or Ministers of Justice to whom I write. It’s a right pain. It’s not that I cannot argue that Colonel Gaddafi or Slobodan Milosevic etc don’t need my prayers, but that one needs to pray out of one’s own sinfulness, standing beside them as someone who herself needs mercy and forgiveness, not in the spirit of “I’m praying for this evil man.” For my own sins of omission and commission I stand in the dock with them. I could go all week without insights like this, thank you very much. People who regard praying as an easy option can’t have much experience of prayer.
And, as I cleared up the breakfast crocks this morning, it struck me that I should be praying that Nicholas van Hoogstraten should be shown some kindness in prison. I don’t want him to be shown some kindness, but to get his comeuppance – to be treated in the way he’s treated others. And how would Christ treat him? Yes, I know, with love and compassion.
I don’t want unwanted, unhelpful insights. But if you pray regularly for people, you stand beside them, and your relationship with them is altered.
Quotation
Henry Van Dyke
For love is but the heart’s immortal thirst to be completely known and all forgiven.
Article
Robert Llewelyn
Some guidelines on silent prayer
Before you begin, you may like to reflect:
This is my love-offering, aided by grace, sitting quietly in the presence of God, allowing all thoughts, memories and imaginations to drop away, knowing that God will use this offering for the extension of his kingdom.
Notes
(1) You may like just to sit quietly waiting upon God, or to use silently some form of words as: “He enfolds us for love and will never let its go” (Julian of Norwich), or “Let go, let be and let God” or “Be still and know that I am God”, or words of your choice. A short phrase is particularly suitable for the first few minutes of prayer or later when thoughts and memories intrude. If the distraction remains, then suffer it to do so as you would a mild ache or pain, but focus gently on the chosen words. Resist the temptation to examine or develop the distraction.
(2) Prayer is best seen as an offering to God that he may use it as he will. Through silent prayer we become more deeply rooted in Christ and so more effective instruments of God’s grace. The effect of contemplative prayer, as seen by St John of the Cross, is to “set the soul on fire with the spirit of love.” Love is the great healer and, firmly planted within, may well remove blockages in mind and body which no medicine or treatment can touch. We have it from St John the apostle, for example, that love is victorious over fear (1 John 4:18) which is so often at the root of mental and physical sickness. But to make the undoubted healing power of prayer more than a secondary motive for its practice tends to fix us upon ourselves, rather than on God. We do better to direct our attention towards God, and to allow the rest to take care of itself.
(3) The more we can think of prayer as an offering to God, or better still as a love-offering, the less we shall be disturbed by doubts as to whether it is “doing any good.” Offerings don’t have to succeed: they simply have to be offered, and in such simplicity of heart as God may grant. When the going is hard it may help to reflect that you are there for God’s sake and not your own. Consider, too, that you would not wish to make an offering which cost you nothing.
(4) The test of prayer is its fruit. St Paul lists the fruit of the Spirit as: love, joy, peace; patience, kindness, goodness; faithfulness, gentleness, selfcontrol. (Galatians 5: 22-23).
Going deeper
Sitting in church this morning (Ash Wednesday), I found myself sitting next to a two-year-old child whose grandmother had brought her. She sat silently for a short while and then climbed on to granny’s lap and remained contentedly in her arms for the full forty minutes. What was little Daisy doing? Seemingly nothing, but that is not correct. Unknowingly to herself she was offering herself to be loved.
The thought takes us to the deepest offering we can make in prayer, the offering of ourselves to God to be loved. We ourselves do nothing except that we make the offering and continue to make the offering (not thinking about it unless it be at the start. and thereafter now and again) until the time is up, and we leave the work to be done by God.
God loves us and enjoys us, as Julian of Norwich reminds us, but so often our “busyness” and neglect prevents that love reaching us as he would wish. Here in the silence we are giving him the opportunity he longs for. And just as Daisy’s love for granny was further drawn out by granny’s love for her, so our own love for God grows as a spontaneous (almost reflex) response to God’s love for us. And the overspill of that love is, of course, found in our love for one another.
This thought can be a most encouraging one in our prayers. So often it seems that we are doing nothing and that it is just a waste of time, but so long as the offering remains, so does the prayer and we are fed by it more than we know. One of the rules of prayer is that it is not to be judged by how it feels at the time but (if judged at all) by its later fruit.
Poem
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
All go to God in their distress
All go to God in their distress,
seek help and pray for bread and happiness,
deliverance from pain, guilt and death…
All do, Christians and others
All go to God in His distress,
find him poor, reviled without shelter or bread,
watch Him tormented by sin, weakness and death…
Christians stand by God in His agony.
God goes to all in their distress,
satisfies body and soul with His bread,
dies, crucified for all, Christians and others
and both alike forgiving.
This is one of the poems in “Voices in the Night: the Prison Poems of Dietrich Bonhoeffer”, published by Eagle in 2003. Reprinted by permission.
Quotation
John Henry Newman
Love, then, is the life of those who know not an external world, but who worship God as manifested within them.
Article
Anne Stamper
Easter Day
We see represented the glories of Easter as celebrated over the centuries in church services by symbols of light overpowering darkness.
After the darkness of Good Friday the light of Easter comes. The shadow of the cross is now overcome by the stone rolled away revealing the empty tomb. Light comes and the prayers of the people rise like smoke.
There is a long-standing Christian tradition of the “Service of Light” – the first service of Easter. From a bonfire in the dark churchyard the Easter candle is lit and carried into the church to symbolise Christ, the light of the world, risen from the darkness of the grave.
In many churches there is an Easter candle decorated with traditional symbols:
- The Cross – symbol of life and death.
- A and Ω – the start and end of the Greek alphabet, symb_olising Christ, the beginning and the end of all things.
- The current year – a reminder that the Lord of all ages is present here and now.
Quotation
William Barclay
We must learn to love… Christian love, agape, is that unconquerable benevolence, that undefeatable good will, which will never seek anything but the highest good of others, no matter what they do to us, and no matter how they treat us.
Article
John Keeling
Walking the labyrinth: a spiritual journey
I was sitting in the Chapel of Dundee University with the evening light outside fading. Laid out before me on the floor, encircled with the warm light of upwards of fifty candles, was a canvas tapestry some twelve metres in diameter. Printed on it in deep blue was a replica of the labyrinth laid out in the pavement at the west end of the nave in Chartres Cathedral in France that dates from around 1200. Music was playing quietly in the background and, caught in the flickering light, were three figures, one slowly walking the labyrinth, one standing on the path in a meditative pose and one sitting cross-legged and eyes closed in the centre.
The origin of the labyrinth dates back to before recorded time. In Greek legend we are told that Ariadne gave Theseus a golden thread that he might safely make his way to the heart of the labyrinth and return after slaying the minotaur. Christianity built on this imagery. In the Middle Ages the European Church appointed seven centres where, within the sanctuary of the cathedral enclosures, pilgrims might experience the spiritual essence of a journey to Jerusalem. The walk into the labyrinth in these cathedrals represented the end of the physical hardship of the pilgrimage and a symbolic entrance into the realms of the “celestial city” of Jerusalem, the sacred touchstone of three of the world’s great religions. In the tradition of the pilgrimage the path of the labyrinth was called the Road to Jerusalem, and at its centre, the New Jerusalem.
In recent years there has been a renewal of interest in the labyrinth and its potential for meditation. Walking the labyrinth can provide a focus for prayer and a unique meditational journey towards self-discovery and heightened self-awareness. By its very simplicity and design, it encourages us to slow down and let go of our everyday concerns. Within the seeker’s path lies the potential for communion with the divine. As an expression of spirituality that reaches back to our Christian heritage and earlier, the labyrinth pilgrimage may help to explore and develop our own faith, the workings of God in our lives and in the life of the world.
I rose and stood barefooted on the outer perimeter of the canvas at the start of the path that would lead me to the centre of the labyrinth. My thoughts went back over the years, wondering just where and when the start of my spiritual journey in life had really begun. Stepping slowly forward, my eyes were on the single candle burning brightly at the centre of the labyrinth and I thought of our saviour Jesus, the light of the world. My path forward turned, curving about the centre, turning back on itself, moving sometimes towards the centre and sometimes away from it. How often had I let myself turn away from that light in my journey through life, and how like the continuing struggles towards spiritual fulfilment these changes in direction seemed to be? Others on the path were sometimes coming towards me, sometimes drawing alongside to walk some of the way with me, sometimes pausing, sometimes turning as we approached each other. How this reminded me of life’s experiences as I recalled friendships and disappointments with past acquaintances with whom I had shared parts of my spiritual journey. Upon reaching the centre I sat there for a while, cross-legged and silent, reflecting upon the thoughts I’d had along the path. My return out of the labyrinth did not seem a going back but more a going on, the same twisting, turning and meandering journey that we make through life. I paused for a few minutes at the end of the path before I stepped out, as it were, “into the world again” to take with me my experience of walking the labyrinth.
Book review
Brian Morris
Rowan Williams • The Dwelling of the Light: Praying with Icons of Christ
Canterbury Press, 2003, £8.99
With masterly simplicity and skill, Rowan Williams accompanies the four icons selected in this book with “verbal icons.” Just as an icon is not a portrayal, but a description, a re-enactment of the divine action, and an invitation to participate in that action, Rowan Williams’s text is at once not only an exploration of each icon, but a prayerful re-enactment of the divine activity revealed in it, and an invitation to re-enter that action with him. Using words – his medium, rather than paint – with a care and clarity to match the icon painter’s use of colour and brush stroke, he invites us to contemplate the dynamics of the truth at the heart of the Trinity in the face of the Word. Perhaps it is so that we are not distracted from the text that the illustrations are, regrettably, on the small side. But that is a minor quibble. Allow this book to become familiar with you; it will have much to feed and teach you.
Book review
Yvonne Walker
Peter Ball • Introducing Spiritual Direction
SPCK, 2003, £8.99
This is a very helpful guide for those thinking about finding a Spiritual Director and wondering what happens when you meet. The author, an Anglican priest and experienced Director, has interviewed 30 people about their experience, and these accounts make up most of the text interspersed with a summary at the end of each chapter.
The book tackles such basic questions as What are you looking for? and How do you find and choose a Director? and also explores the relationship. There is an excellent chapter on praying and growing into quiet. Talking about their prayer life is one of the aspects that the contributors to the book rate as an important part of spiritual direction.
This book is full of practical wisdom and personal insight and would be useful for those training to accompany others as well as for those wondering what on earth it is all about.
Book review
Michael Tiley
George Herbert • A Priest to the Temple or The Country Parson, with selected poems
Canterbury Press, 2003, £9.99
This new edition of A Priest to the Temple provided me with some unique insights into the inner nature and life of George Herbert, the 17th century Anglican priest and poet. He wrote some of our best-known hymns, such as “King of glory, King of peace, I will love thee” and “Let all the world in every corner sing.” These are included in their original settings within the selection of 22 poems, which follow his less well-known “Rules” which are each divided into 37 short chapters.
The “Rules” were written as clear guidelines for the country parson to become worthy of his calling as a Priest to the Temple (in the words of the author) or of a country parish church in the Church of England in the uncertain years around 1630, during the reign of Charles I and before the Civil War. The central theme is that a minister can only succeed in his work by trying to be Christlike in all aspects of his life. George Herbert’s “Rules” are as serious and practical as the earlier monastic rules of St Benedict. They lack the more mundane but fascinating personal details found in the diaries of the later famous country parsons Woodforde, White and Kilvert in the 18th and 19th centuries who seemed to have more time available for their leisure pursuits!
By his insistent use of the term “Parson” George Herbert reminds each priest that he is the key “person” in each parish, to whom all parishioners have access for both their spiritual and practical needs, including healing for illnesses using home-grown herbal and flower-based remedies.
It was a privilege for me to be able to incorporate one of the chapters or “Rules” into my daily readings and prayers while I was convalescing after a recent operation and to begin to get to know the author and his priestly life in his parish at Bemerton outside Salisbury. He was Rector from only 1630 to 1633 when he died on 27 February, which is the date by which he is commemorated in the Anglican Calendar. Much of his advice for clergy is still relevant to today’s rural and urban clergy and to any Christians with pastoral responsibilities.
There is a charming painting on the cover of George Herbert at Bemerton in his rectory garden by the river Nedder, painted by William Dyce in 1861.
Book review
Francis Ballinger
Dietrich Bonhoeffer • Voices in the Night: the Prison Poems of Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Eagle, 2003, £9.99
The mystery that surrounds our life and death, the transformation of suffering, and an undeniable belief in the power of God to work through our lives and the lives of those near and dear to us: these come through very clearly in this new translation of the prison poems of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
This book by Edwin Robertson is a very clear translation of Bonhoeffer with a commentary on the poems and their associated Gethsemane-type experience. Life and hope will go on, if necessary through death.
The reading of these poems is both haunting and challenging. It causes the reader both to reflect upon our own mortality and think about what we have done with our liyes.
For those new to the works of Bonhoeffer this book will provide an excellent introduction, and for those of us familiar with his works this provides a clear and poignant reminder of the cost of discipleship.
These poems provide material that can lead us into silence or be a source for personal reflection, encouraging us towards faith and hope even in the face of persecution and death.
Book review
Michael Tiley
Michael Fulljames and Michael Harper • Prayers for Healing: a Burrswood Companion
Canterbury Press, 2003, £9.99
This practical book of 31 morning reflections and evening prayers is intended for use according to the different themes on healing and the needs of the reader, or for use as a basis for intercessions at the beginning and end of the day for each day of the month. The co-authors are the former Chaplain and the current Medical Director of Burrswood, the well-known international Christian centre and hospital for health and healing, which was founded over 50 years ago by Dorothy Kerin. It is set in a beautiful country estate at Groombridge near Tunbridge Wells in Kent.
The healing reflections and prayers are based upon the experiences of the authors and their work at Burrswood. They have different themes for each daily set such as Diagnosis, Treatment, Recovery, Wholeness, Pain, Setbacks and Nearing the End.
This collection of prayers could be used by patients and their families and friends as part of their daily prayers, and also as selected lead-ins on the theme of healing by a Julian Meeting. The texts of the reflections and prayers have additional relevant quotations from the Bible and other sources from a wide range of traditions as headings or as margin notes.
Book review
Yvonne Walker
Alexander Ryrie • Wonderful Exchange: an Exploration of Silent Prayer
Canterbury Press, 2003, £7.99
A few years ago we reviewed and recommended Silent Waiting by Alexander Ryrie which examined the Biblical roots of contemplative spirituality. Here we have a very practical guide to silent prayer which is described as “a two-centred enterprise”, hence the title of the book.
This is a helpful handbook for those setting out on the path of silent prayer as well as a useful companion for those already practising it. The book draws heavily on Orthodox spirituality, and at the end of each chapter there are some brief quotations from Orthodox writers through the ages to ponder on.
Ryrie’s approach is very much in keeping with the Julian Meetings: it is based on experience and exploration, with the understanding that we each pray differently. The intention is to describe aspects of the process of praying – our experience of our inner selves and the presence or the absence of God. We are adding this title to our list of books on prayer (this has just been revised and is available through our publications order form).
Book review
Yvonne Walker
Yvonne Edwards • Nowhere, Everywhere
2003, £9.99
The stunningly colourful cover of this book indicates the delights within. Poems and meditations explore the questions: What am I? Who am I? And Where am I? The elements, particularly water, are the subject of several poems, and the evocative drawings provide a focus for meditation. Some of the poems could be used as lead-ins to meditation, but this book is to be treasured more perhaps for personal devotion and inspiration.
Book review
Gail Ballinger
John Henstridge • Transforming the Ordinary: Bible Meditations for the Everyday
Bible Reading Fellowship, 2004, £6.99
In this collection of 30 meditations the focus is on everyday experiences. The author encourages us to enter into everyday situations and events in a new way, making use of the imagination in a way that has become familiar to many in praying the Gospels in recent years. But this time it is our own lives that provide the raw material. The aim is to help us realise – make real – the presence of God with us. Each meditation starts with a reflection or a discussion of the theme, such as traffic jams, painting and decorating. A linked Bible passage follows and then the meditation, for example “You’ve got a room to redecorate. Picture yourself in the room as you look around and plan where to start…” The book’s introduction includes guides for using the imagination, notes for those leading discussion and meditation in a group, and advice for those meditating on their own. The introduction ends by talking about making time and space for God with a good brief description of stillness and silence. The final chapter provides details of Resources for Exploration and Growth and includes information about the Julian Meetings (unfortunately the contact address is now out of date but website details are included), and The Quiet Gardens Trust, as well as a few recommendations for further reading.
The meditations can be used in a group or in personal devotion. They would be suitable for new Christians or those whose faith is long-standing. They would make a valuable follow up for a group after an Alpha or Emmaus course or a Week of Accompanied Prayer.
Quotation
St Teresa of Avila
Love is not made up of sweet feelings but is a determination to please God in everything.
Music review
Francis Ballinger
Keith Duke • Sacred Weave: Celtic Songs from Lindisfarne
Kevin Mayhew, 2003
£13.99 CD
£8.99 Cassette
£9.99 Full score
£3.99 Vocal score
£2.99 Melody edition
For those familiar. with the Celtic Christianity strand, and particularly the works of David Adam and Ray Simpson, Sacred Weave provides a new way of hearing the words of what may have become familiar prayers set to sympathetic. music.
Somewhat similar to the folk-song style of music from Iona, but with less social comment, and more in the style of prayers and psalms, these 14 songs can be used either as a lead-in to, or a lead out from, both private prayer and a meeting.
The publishers of this recording, Kevin Mayhew, have long been associated with new forms of music for worship that are pleasant, easy to understand and easy to join in with, in spirit or in song. The Music of Keith Duke, subtitled Celtic Songs from Lindisfarne, is indeed a Sacred Weave of music and words that can leave us caught up in a spirit of awe and worship.