When Formation Must Begin Again

Why the priest must first be formed by silence before he can safely speak in the name of God

“If you are a theologian, you will pray truly. And if you pray truly, you are a theologian.”

Evagrios of Pontus

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There is something we must say now with sobriety and humility.

Not as critics.

Not as judges.

But as men who have lived long enough to see the difference between knowledge and transformation.

Between speaking about God and being conquered by Him.

Between activity and reality.

We live in a post Christian age.

Not merely an age of disbelief, but an age in which the conditions that once quietly formed the human heart toward God no longer exist.

In earlier centuries, a man entered seminary already shaped by a world that, even in its imperfection, reinforced silence, reverence, restraint, and the presence of mystery. He had grown up in a culture where fasting was normal. Where prayer was assumed. Where silence was not feared. Where obscurity was not experienced as annihilation. Where identity was not constructed through constant affirmation, activity, and visibility.

He entered formation already possessing an interior foundation.

Today, most men enter formation internally fragmented.

Not through moral failure.

But through formation in a world of constant stimulation.

A world that trains attention toward distraction.

A world that feeds identity through visibility.

A world that strengthens the ego while weakening the capacity for stillness.

A world in which a man may reach adulthood without ever having experienced true silence.

Without ever having endured obscurity.

Without ever having stood alone before God without distraction.

This changes everything.

Because formation can no longer simply build.

It must first dismantle.

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The Gift and the Limit of Academic Formation

I owe much to academic formation.

It gave me language. It gave me access to Scripture and the fathers in their depth. It gave me the ability to distinguish truth from error. It gave me intellectual stability and clarity.

This is no small gift.

Philosophy disciplines the mind. Theology orders thought. Study protects the Church from confusion and distortion.

And yet, I have come to see with painful clarity that intellectual formation alone does not purify the heart.

A man may study theology for six or eight years and still be ruled by fear, pride, and the need for affirmation.

He may speak fluently about humility while never having been humiliated.

He may teach prayer while rarely enduring its dryness.

He may guide others while remaining largely a stranger to himself.

This is not hypocrisy.

It is incompleteness.

The Scriptures themselves never present intellectual mastery as the foundation of spiritual authority.

Moses was formed in the desert for forty years, stripped of identity and competence, before God spoke from the burning bush.

David was formed in obscurity, in caves, hunted and broken, before he became king.

The Apostles were not first sent to study, but to follow Christ, to live with Him, to watch Him withdraw into silence, to experience their own weakness and failure.

And even after walking with Him, they were told to wait.

“Stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.”

Luke 24:49

Not speak.

Wait.

Because something deeper than knowledge was required.

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The Witness of the Desert Fathers and the Modern Elders

The desert fathers understood this with terrifying clarity.

Abba Arsenius had been one of the most educated men of his time, a tutor to emperors, formed in philosophy and rhetoric at the highest level.

Yet when he encountered God, he fled into the desert and prayed only this:

“Lord, lead me in the way of salvation.”

The answer he received was not academic.

It was ascetic.

“Flee. Be silent. Pray always.”

Because he understood that knowledge does not destroy the ego.

Silence does.

Affliction does.

Hiddenness does.

St. Isaac the Syrian writes that the one who loves God loves stillness, because in stillness he begins to see himself truthfully. He begins to see the instability of his thoughts, the depth of his fragmentation, the illusions he has lived under.

This knowledge cannot be learned from books.

It must be revealed.

And modern elders repeat the same teaching.

St. Silouan the Athonite, who possessed little formal theological education, became one of the greatest theologians of the Church because his knowledge was born from decades of prayer, repentance, and inner warfare.

Archimandrite Sophrony writes that true theology is the fruit of purification.

Not intellectual effort alone.

Archimandrite Zacharias speaks often of the long hidden years necessary before a man can safely guide others, because without purification, he will inevitably teach from his wounds, from his passions, and from his unconscious need for identity.

He may speak correctly.

But he will not yet speak safely.

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What True Formation Must Look Like

If this is true, then formation must be reordered.

Not abandoning intellectual study.

But placing it within a deeper ascetic and spiritual foundation.

Formation must take place in an environment that supports silence.

Not constant activity.

Not constant stimulation.

But silence.

Ideally in settings that are rural or semi rural. Simple. Removed from constant noise and digital intrusion. Environments where the nervous system itself can begin to quiet.

Because silence is not merely a discipline.

It is medicine.

The daily life of formation must revolve around prayer.

Fixed hours of liturgical prayer.

Extended periods of personal silent prayer.

Manual labor.

Spiritual reading.

Fasting.

Limited speech.

Not as punishment.

But as purification.

Abba Moses said:

“Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.”

Because in silence, the illusions begin to collapse.

A man begins to see himself truthfully.

Often for the first time.

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The Central Role of the Spiritual Elder

At the heart of formation must be the presence of a spiritual elder.

Not merely professors.

But a man who has walked the path.

A man who has endured silence long enough to become stable within it.

A man who can recognize illusion and gently expose it.

The apostles themselves were formed not primarily through instruction, but through relationship with Christ.

They learned by living with Him.

By watching Him pray.

By watching Him withdraw into solitude.

This remains the model.

Because the deepest formation occurs not through information, but through presence.

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The Proper Place of Academic Study

Academic study remains essential.

Scripture must be studied deeply.

The fathers must be studied deeply.

The theology of the Church must be studied deeply.

But it must proceed slowly.

Emerging from silence.

Rooted in prayer.

Evagrios wrote:

“If you are a theologian, you will pray truly.”

Not if you study much.

If you pray truly.

Because theology is not information.

It is participation.

Study must not be abandoned.

It must be purified.

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The Stages of Formation

Formation must unfold gradually.

The first years must focus primarily on silence, prayer, obedience, manual labor, and self knowledge.

Minimal academic load.

Maximum ascetic foundation.

These years dismantle illusion.

Without this, everything that follows remains fragile.

Only after this foundation is established should academic study increase.

Now theology begins to illuminate lived reality.

Scripture becomes alive.

The fathers become recognizable.

The words of the saints are no longer theoretical.

They are familiar.

Because the seminarian has begun to walk the same path.

Only later should pastoral formation become central.

Because only then can a man guide others without unconsciously seeking identity through ministry.

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The Necessity of Time in a Fragmented Age

In earlier centuries, culture itself supported formation.

Today, culture undermines it.

This means formation may need more time.

Not less.

This is difficult.

Because institutions need priests.

But the deeper question remains.

Do we form men quickly for function.

Or slowly for reality.

The fathers never rushed formation.

Because they understood what was at stake.

Better a man formed deeply.

Than a man formed quickly but incompletely.

Because the priest carries souls.

And his interior condition inevitably affects those entrusted to him.

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The Role of Monasticism and Extended Retreat

In our time, this may require deeper integration between seminaries and monasteries.

Extended stays in monasteries.

Not days.

But months.

Living the rhythm of silence and prayer.

Extended retreats each year.

Not as rest.

But as formation.

Because formation does not end at ordination.

Even Christ withdrew constantly into solitude.

How much more must the priest.

The renewal of priesthood is inseparable from the renewal of monasticism.

Because monasteries preserve the memory of silence.

They preserve the heart of the Church.

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The Goal of Formation

Not producing religious professionals.

But producing men whose hearts have been purified.

Men who do not need to speak constantly.

Men who are not governed by the need to be seen.

Men who can stand in silence without fear.

Men whose words emerge from prayer.

St. Seraphim of Sarov said:

“Acquire the Spirit of peace, and thousands around you will be saved.”

This is the priesthood.

Not activity.

Not expertise.

Presence.

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Formation Must Begin Again

This is not criticism.

It is recognition.

We live in a time that requires deeper formation than ever before.

Because the modern world forms men in dispersion.

Only silence gathers them again.

The priest must first become a man of silence.

Not because silence is superior to speech.

But because only in silence is the false self dismantled.

Only in silence does the true man emerge.

Only in silence does theology become real.

Only in silence does the priest become safe.

Safe for others.

Safe for the Church.

Safe before God.

Because he no longer speaks from himself.

He speaks from the silence where God alone speaks.