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When Silence Burns and Speech Betrays

  • Father Charbel Abernethy
  • Apr 6
  • 4 min read

On Vainglory, Control, and the Fear of Trusting God



“Forgive me, O Lord, for I spoke with vainglory.”



Synopsis of Tonight’s Group on The Evergetinos Volume II Hypothesis XL paragraphs 4-9


We want to help.

We want to fix.

We want to speak the right word at the right time and be the instrument of someone’s healing.


And hidden beneath all of it, almost always, is something far less pure.


We do not trust that God can work without us.



The Fathers cut through this illusion without mercy, but not without compassion.


A man begins to speak and sees that his heart is stirred by vainglory. Not always in the moment. Sometimes afterward. The sweetness comes later. The memory of being useful. Of being seen. Of being right.


So he asks the obvious question. Should I remain silent?


The Elder refuses the simplicity of that escape.


Silence is not purity if it is chosen to protect one’s image.

Speech is not corruption if it is offered in obedience.


The issue is not whether you speak or remain silent.

The issue is whether you are willing to be exposed.


If a word must be spoken for the sake of another, then speak it. But do not pretend you are clean. Do not wait until your heart is free of vainglory. It will not be. Speak, and then stand before God and accuse yourself.


“I spoke with vainglory.”


This is the path. Not control. Not perfection. But truth.



We prefer another way.


We want to purify our motives before acting.

We want to feel clean before we speak.

We want to be certain that what we say is necessary, righteous, even indispensable.


This is fantasy.


It is a refined form of pride.



The Fathers show us something far more severe.


There are times when speaking is required.

There are times when silence is required.

And we are rarely capable of discerning which is which on our own.


So we are placed under obedience.


When something disturbs us, we assume it must be addressed. We feel the agitation in the heart and call it discernment. We speak to relieve ourselves and call it charity.


The Elder names it plainly.


If you speak to quiet your own heart, you have already fallen.


This is devastating. Because it exposes how much of what we call concern is nothing more than self-protection. We do not want the discomfort. We do not want the tension. We do not want to suffer the presence of what is unresolved.


So we speak.


Not to heal.

But to escape.



And when others are disturbed, we cloak ourselves even more skillfully.


“I am speaking for them.”


The Fathers do not deny that responsibility exists. But they strip it of illusion.


You are not the healer.

You are not the judge.

You are not the one who must set things right.


Bring it to the Abba. Submit it. Be freed from the illusion that everything depends on your intervention.


This is where our resistance intensifies.


Because submission feels like passivity.

And passivity feels like failure.


But what we are being asked to surrender is not action. It is control.



There is also fear.


“If I speak, he will hate me.”


The Elder calls this thought what it is. Evil.


Not because the fear is imaginary, but because it shifts the center away from God to human reaction. It makes peace, reputation, and emotional safety the measure of truth.


The image is stark.


A sick man resents the physician.

But the physician does not stop the treatment.


If you are to act, act in God. Not to be liked. Not to be justified. Not to be safe.



And then the final blow.


What if you see clearly that your desire to speak is poisoned? That you want to accuse, to expose, to correct in a way that elevates yourself?


Then do not pretend.


Do not remain silent in false righteousness.

Do not speak in hidden judgment.


Confess your sickness.


Go to the Abba and say, “I want to accuse. I cannot purify my heart.”


Now something real can begin.


Not only the healing of your brother.

But your own.



This is the truth we resist.


God is not waiting for our perfect words.

He is not dependent upon our interventions.

He is not hindered by our silence.


But He will not heal the heart that refuses to be seen as it is.



We want to be useful.


The Fathers want us to be honest.


Because only the honest man can be entrusted with speech.

And only the one who has relinquished control can remain silent without bitterness.



In the end, the question is not this:


Should I speak or remain silent?


The question is this:


Am I willing to let God work without securing a place for myself in the outcome?


Until that is answered, both our silence and our speech will remain infected.


And yet, even this is not the end.


Speak when you must.

Remain silent when you must.


And in both, stand before God and say the only true word:


“I am not pure. Have mercy.”

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