A Dialogue on the Call to Absolute Silence

Seeker:

Father, something is beginning to stir in me that I hardly dare to name.

A pull toward silence.

A desire to withdraw from noise, distraction, and unnecessary duties.

It is as if God is preparing me for something deeper,

something that can only be received in stillness.

But I am afraid.

And I do not yet understand what it will require of me.

Elder:

You speak of a holy summons.

Few perceive it when it first brushes the heart.

Silence is not merely the absence of sound,

it is the presence of God.

It strips, burns, purifies, and resurrects.

Tell me, what do you sense?

Seeker:

A longing to be hidden.

A need to quiet my thoughts.

A desire to step back from what is unnecessary,

from conversations that drain me,

from possessions that clutter my mind.

I feel drawn to pray more in the night,

to fast with a clearer purpose,

to live more simply.

It is as though God is asking for my attention in a new way.

Elder:

This longing is from Him.

But hear me carefully.

Every movement toward stillness will be resisted,

not only by demons,

but by the habits of your own heart.

St. Isaac speaks with terrifying clarity on this:

“May that righteousness perish,

and every form of mercy or compassion

which hinders you from the practice of stillness,

which fixes your eye upon the world,

shakes you from the memory of God,

arrests your prayers,

disperses your watchfulness…”

These words are sharp because the path is sharp.

Seeker:

I tremble when I hear them.

Is it wrong, then, to do good?

To serve?

To be available?

Elder:

Not wrong, but not for those whom God calls into deeper silence.

Good deeds can distract as much as sins do

when they pull the heart away from God.

Not all forms of righteousness are pure.

Some flatter the ego.

Some bind the soul to the world.

Some awaken passions that were already dying.

Listen again to St. Isaac:

“Those who have withdrawn from the world

must not return to the husbandry of visible things,

for their labor is of the angels.”

This is not a contempt for human needs.

It is the fierce protection of a fragile calling.

Seeker:

Then what must I do, Father?

Where do I begin?

Elder:

Begin by purifying your atmosphere.

Deepen the disciplines you already know:

fasting, prayer, vigils, the Psalter, silence of the tongue,

the Jesus Prayer breathed quietly throughout the day.

These will teach your heart how to stand before God.

Then, slowly, begin to divest yourself.

Not dramatically.

Not all at once.

But steadily.

Reduce what you own

so that nothing unnecessary clamors for your attention.

Let your room, your life, your heart

become simple and uncluttered.

A cup.

A lamp.

A few books.

Space for prayer.

As the outer world grows quiet,

the inner world will begin to rise.

Seeker:

And what of my responsibilities?

My obligations?

The people who depend on me?

Elder:

Fulfill what God has entrusted to you,

but do not volunteer for more.

Serve where love demands it,

but refuse the world’s invitations

to scatter your heart.

Stillness does not mean neglect.

It means purity of focus.

If God has given you someone to care for,

care for them with love,

for such love is prayer.

But avoid all that pulls you into distraction,

idle talk, needless errands,

restlessness of mind.

Seeker:

Father, I sense that this call is costly.

And I am not yet strong.

Elder:

God does not ask for your strength.

He asks for your willingness.

Absolute silence is not achieved in a day.

It is received as a gift

when the soul has emptied itself of every lesser desire.

Continue your fast.

Keep your vigils quietly.

Guard your senses.

Let your words be few.

Do not seek to justify yourself.

Let your possessions decrease.

Let your company become scarce.

Let your prayer deepen in the night.

And in time,

if this calling is truly from God,

He will draw you into a silence

that becomes your teacher.

A silence in which the heart learns to hear God speak

without sound,

without image,

without fear.

Seeker:

Father… is this the angelic way that St. Isaac speaks of?

Elder:

It is the beginning of it.

The angelic husbandry is not flight from the world;

it is the reorientation of the heart

so completely toward God

that even the smallest distraction becomes a sorrow.

But fear not.

God teaches slowly.

Even now, He prepares you.

When the time comes,

silence will no longer frighten you.

It will become your home.

Your refuge.

Your joy.

Seeker:

Pray for me, Father.

That I may not shrink back,

and that I may walk this path without pride or presumption.

Elder:

I pray that your heart becomes flame,

and that silence becomes the place

where God makes His dwelling in you.

Begin.

And God will do what remains.