The last sermon I heard was fine. It was theologically sound, well-communicated, and not terribly long. Yet, about 15 minutes in, I found myself struggling to pay attention. He was a well-educated man with good things to say, I was simply tired of listening. In seminary, I took three required homiletics classes and now find myself frustrated today with the wasted time and money I put towards those classes. It’s not that I don’t think pastors shouldn’t be trained in teaching but I soon discovered after graduation there is much more to teaching than a 25-minute sermon on a Sunday morning. Yet, it’s obvious where the Protestant church puts its emphasis and frankly, I’m over it.
What was once central to my spiritual formation has become less and less, as I continue this road of evolving faith. No longer part of a traditional Sunday church community, I find myself in silence more than anything else. I feel drawn to ancient mystical teachings, the Desert Mothers and Fathers, and spiritual practices that are grounded in silence. The “sermons” I often hear these days blow through the trees in my backyard or in times of contemplation when I sit with Jesus in stillness. I listen to the Daily Hours in my Dwell app during my walks and do my work quietly at home. And believe it or not, it is becoming enough for me if not more.
Since starting Wild Church of Portland back in December of 2022, I have always prepared a small “reflection” before our contemplative walk through the woods. I have enjoyed writing these reflections and yet, I am still sermonizing regardless if it’s only a few minutes. Perhaps this stems from my training or tradition that sermons are an essential part of a gathering but I am beginning to question that. Even more, I am beginning to question where this emphasis came from in the first place. Sure, Jesus was a great teacher as well as Paul and the other apostles. We needed them, especially those who couldn’t read or when we didn’t have printed Bibles. I can name great teachers that have been formative to me like Pastor Bob in my hometown church, Richard Rohr, Barbara Brown Taylor, and even many of my seminary professors. I’m not throwing out teaching; Heck! Writing is a form of teaching. What I am questioning is the centrality of it which often pushes spiritual practices to the periphery. For me, the knee-jerk reaction to make sure our gatherings had a reflection comes from a lack of trust. A lack of trust that silence can be just as good of a teacher as a well-prepared sermonette.
In St. Teresa of Avila’s The Interior Castle, she speaks about the “general remedies” of confession, reading good books, and listening to sermons as help for the maturing soul as it passes through each room of the castle, drawing closer to God at the center. Yet, eventually those “little things” become absorbed into the Great things of God in the prayer of unity which is a profound place of dying to oneself. Here, the attachments of this world have little hold over us. I see these attachments as more than just “worldly” things such as materialism, our social circles/status, wealth, etc. but dying to the constructs our egos have built and depended on about ourselves, the world, and of God. Those “little things” helped us in the beginning and though can be beneficial still, they are not what draws us deeper into God because they are ultimately grounded in our efforts to experience God. But there comes a time when surrender is needed more and all we can do is let God do the work. I believe the practice of silence is where this great work happens.
Richard Rohr addresses the idea of silence in his short book “Just This”. Here’s what he has to say:
There is surely no more assured, and universally, admired spiritual practice than intentional and contented silence… I’m going to go as far as to say that, on the practical and existential level, deep silence and God will be experienced as the same thing…
Silence has a life of its own. It is a third element, connecting the seer to what is seen, just like the Holy Spirit. Silence always makes everything larger, deeper, more patient, and more compassionate…
Such a deep silence allows you to see things with a soft eye, a compassionate eye, and an integrity that is even a surprise to you. Once you’ve learned to trust and experience deep inner silence, then you can largely trust your own feelings and intuitions. Unless your thoughts and feelings come out of silence, and remain surrounded by it, I would probably advise you not to trust your feelings very much at all!
We live in a world of noise and that noise follows us everywhere we go, even into our churches and especially into our prayers. Perhaps we all suffer from a lack of trust in silence, believing it is unable to teach us. We are conditioned to practice the noise of our faith, filling the silence with every holy sound possible, believing it will lead us deeper into God. We have become accustomed to noise, deceiving our souls into believing silence is uncomfortable but this is only a convenient tactic of the false self/ego because if we can ignore the false self, we allow it to continue living. Don’t believe me? Just spend 5 minutes in intentional silence and the false self will reveal itself! Those ugly judgments of ourselves and others, our fitful mind of endless tasks, people pleasing, self-deprecation, self-aggrandizement, it’ll all come screaming from behind the veil of noise. Yet, once we see it, we cannot unsee it. Once we recognize our egos, we discover what needs to die in order for God’s life to live in us. And we can begin to trust ourselves because the true self, which is already absorbed in the great Work of God, is able to move and live and have its being within us.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy a good sermon here and there, and if you’ve followed me for a while now, you’d know I’m probably in the middle of at least five books. But I don’t remember all that I hear or read. I do however, remember the moments sitting with Jesus and letting my soul become absorbed in the Great Love and the outpouring of gratitude and peace I felt. I remember the visions I’ve had of entering into the river of the Holy Spirit and submerging my full self beneath the current. I remember one time I was so caught up in prayer that I couldn’t find Jesus only to realize he was directly in front of me. I could go into deeper meanings behind these visions and maybe I will at a later time but my point is, silence was the self-emptying I needed in order to find fullness in God.
If you are new to this practice, I encourage you to try it. A few pointers: First, make sure you can find a quiet place and start small. Try five minutes. Second, use your imagination! Seriously. Find a quiet place in your mind where you can go and invite God into that space. I often find myself on a stone bridge, with my feet dangling over the edge, and Jesus sitting next to me. He always has a gentle, calm presence with a soft smile on his face. Beneath us is the water of my conscience and depending on the day, it’s either a roaring river or a bubbling brook. I picture God, Mother Creator surrounding us in a lush forest. The last time I was on this bridge, I pictured the Holy Spirit as St. Teresa! Then I sit quietly and just be. For you, it could be a beach, a mountain, or even a favorite spot in a garden or museum. Whatever it is, God gave us a powerful imagination, use it during your time of silence. Lastly, choose a phrase or word to help guide your mind back to the present when it wanders off. I also like to start my practice with this simple prayer from Scripture:
Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know that I am.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Be.
Sometimes I have to repeat it a few times if my mind is really busy.
You will not do this well nor should you try. This is not about getting it right. It’s an internal wrestling between our false self and true self but if you do this regularly, the true self becomes larger and deeper, full of compassion as Rohr says. And remember, the false self isn’t the bad self, so don’t condemn it. It is simply not the true self.
I was never taught silence in my tradition, I had to discover this on my own, and honestly, wish I would have learned sooner. And yet, I may not have been ready for it. I may not have been ready to set aside the songs and sermons for stillness and silence. We are all in different places on our spiritual journey and we need teachers to help guide us along this path. So perhaps, what I am saying is to let silence be one of the many teachers you will encounter. And this takes setting down the phone, turning off the music, maybe even taking a silent drive to let it work its way into your soul.
Contemplation has been described as a loving gaze toward Divine Love. It isn’t about thinking (or non-thinking) but about a deep seeing, a longing for connection to God. Love is what truly draws us into the silence of deep seeing. We cannot do this by sheer will, that is our ego attempting to accomplish another thing, it must be desire even if it’s a small flame to begin with (think mustard seed).
A good friend of mine lent me a children’s book about St. Teresa’s Interior Castle and I would like to end this essay with a short excerpt from it.
“We’re getting closer to God, aren’t we?” he asked.
“Yes”, Teresa said, and she sat down beside him.
The two of them closed their eyes and said nothing for a while. Praying silently came with much ease in this room. Then Teresa rose and said, “Now, let us walk quickly to meet the Lord.”
“Can we stay here a bit longer?” asked Juan. “I want to think more about this pool.”
“It’s not a question of thinking much, but of loving much,” Teresa said. “It’s love that opens the doors of the castle.”
I love that we are getting these insights into the beautiful journey you are on Colette. I wonder is it ageing or suffering or just the 'right' time that makes us open to new, often radica,l way of approaching faith? I have been practicing centering prayer for a short while now. It's hard not to assess and look for results. Thank you for those suggestions for creating more silence. With you on this journey into the quieter places
This spoke to my soul...I have struggled over the past decades with my vision of "church" versus what I have/had experienced....I struggled with whether I could do God my own way...but isn't the relationship personal? I would ask myself. And yet are we not also called to gather?
I have found my own way but I love the way you describe your journey as I felt the kindredness with you ( much like when we had our girls only bible study back in the day) continue to.use the beautiful gift you've been given..you continue to touch hearts and minds. Pastor Bob would be proud..I know I am...
Janet Daw