The Furnace of Silence

Why those who love God must learn to love not speaking

“Silence is the mystery of the age to come, but words are instruments of this world.”

St Isaac the Syrian

Silence is not empty.

It is not the absence of words.

It is the presence of God pressing against the walls of the heart.

Antiochos speaks like a man who has been burned by both fire and wind. He knows that words scatter us. Even good words. Even pious words. When the mouth is always moving the soul is always leaking. Attention drips out. Desire evaporates. The heart that was meant to be a temple becomes a marketplace where everything is shouted and nothing is heard.

The monk who talks a lot to men does not become warmer. He becomes thinner.

The demon of listlessness does not usually come roaring. He comes yawning. He comes with distraction. He comes with a gentle fog. And loquacity is one of his favorite doors. A few unnecessary words. A story told again. An opinion added. A joke. A complaint. The mind loosens. The vigilance fades. Prayer becomes mechanical. The inner fire dims. Soon the soul is tired without having done anything.

This is why the Fathers speak so harshly about idle talk. It is not because words are evil. It is because desire is fragile. The flame of the heart cannot survive in constant wind.

Silence is not a technique. It is a confession.

When I choose silence I am saying God is worth more than being understood. God is worth more than being noticed. God is worth more than being right.

In silence I am stripped of the narcotic of my own voice.

I can no longer hide behind explanation or performance.

I have to stand naked before God with only my need.

That is why silence hurts.

In silence your wounds speak.

Your fears speak.

Your craving for recognition speaks.

Your loneliness speaks.

Your grief speaks.

And because this is unbearable we reach for words. We reach for conversation. We reach for noise. We reach for distraction. We call it community or concern or sharing but often it is flight.

Silence does not let you flee.

It pins you to the ground of your own heart where God is already waiting.

Antiochos says that a monk should say many things to God and few to men. This is not a poetic phrase. It is a rule of survival. The heart that does not pour itself out to God will pour itself out everywhere else. And what is poured out to the world is lost. What is poured out to God is transfigured.

Silence gathers the soul.

Speech disperses it.

Silence makes you heavy with God.

Talk makes you light and hollow.

The Fathers knew that the mind is like a treasury. If the door is always open thieves walk in. Thoughts wander in. Passions wander in. Fantasies wander in. But when the door is guarded and still the gold begins to accumulate. Divine knowledge is not given to noisy minds. It is given to still ones.

This is why silence is work.

It is why it feels like dying.

It is why it must be loved.

To love silence is to love God more than relief.

When you remain silent instead of speaking you are choosing Him over yourself. When you bite back a word you are offering a sacrifice. When you stay in the ache instead of filling it with talk you are kneeling before the mystery.

And slowly something happens.

The mind clears.

The heart deepens.

Prayer stops being recited and begins to breathe.

God who was once an idea becomes a presence.

The soul becomes like a treasury.

Not because it hoarded words but because it let them go.

If you want to know whether you truly desire God ask yourself this.

Do I flee from silence or do I endure it.

Because the one who can remain in silence will eventually find that he is not alone.

He is full.