Learn First to Be Silent

A Dialogue with St. Arsenius on Withdrawal, Discernment, and the Mercy That Saves the Heart

The disciple came and stood for a long while without speaking. The elder did not look up.

At last the elder said,

St. Arsenius:

Why do you come as one who has already been standing too long?

Disciple:

Because my heart is tired, father. Not of prayer, but of the noise that follows it. I have tried to remain faithful to what has been entrusted to me, yet I feel myself growing thin.

St. Arsenius:

Does prayer still warm you?

Disciple:

Yes. But when I return to my dealings, my strength leaves me.

St. Arsenius:

Then do not accuse prayer. Accuse dispersion.

Disciple:

I am troubled by the desire to step back. To live more simply. To speak less. To be hidden. And yet I fear that this desire comes from hurt rather than obedience.

St. Arsenius:

Hurt that seeks revenge is dangerous. Hurt that seeks shelter is not.

Tell me: does this desire make you more severe with others, or more gentle?

Disciple:

More gentle, I think. And more quiet.

St. Arsenius:

Then it is not yet from darkness.

Disciple:

But is it right to withdraw when there is still work to be done?

St. Arsenius:

There is always work to be done. That does not mean it is always yours to do.

A man may carry water for others while dying of thirst himself.

Disciple:

I fear being misunderstood.

St. Arsenius:

You will be. Even Christ was.

Do not try to be understood. Try to remain whole.

Disciple:

Sometimes words spoken to guide me leave me unsettled, though they sound correct. I cannot tell whether the fault is mine.

St. Arsenius:

When guidance increases confusion, silence is already advising you.

The soul has a sense of weight. Learn to listen to it.

Disciple:

I feel as though the place where I once stood no longer holds me.

St. Arsenius:

When God removes a place, He teaches the soul to stand without leaning.

Do not rush to replace what has been taken. Let the emptiness instruct you.

Disciple:

And service, father? I continue, but it drains me.

St. Arsenius:

Service that consumes mercy is no longer service.

If speaking weakens the heart, be silent. If going scatters the mind, remain. God is not glorified by exhaustion that breeds resentment.

Disciple:

What then should I do?

St. Arsenius:

Make your life smaller until it can be carried.

Guard prayer. Care for what is directly before you. Reduce your words. Refuse haste. Let your life teach what your mouth no longer can.

Disciple:

And if I never return to the former measure of my life?

St. Arsenius:

God does not measure faithfulness by scale.

Some are saved by much labor. Others by much silence. Both are rare.

Disciple:

Pray for me, father, that I may not grow cold.

St. Arsenius:

Coldness comes from arguing with what God has allowed.

Consent does not mean approval. It means peace.

Remain where your heart can breathe. When God wants you elsewhere, He will move you without violence.

The disciple bowed. He did not feel resolved, but he felt unburdened. And the elder returned to silence, knowing that the truest counsel is often the one that cannot be quoted, only lived.