Holy Silence
-Bishop Mikhail (Semyonov_
There is a holy silence. But there is an even holier Christian blessed silence. The ability to guard one’s lips from sin, to respect the gift of speech.
The word is a great gift from heaven. “What power the word has,” writes St. John Chrysostom, “an almighty power: all things were made by it; the entire visible world was created by the word, by the word of the Lord the heavens were established (Ps. 32:6). You might say that this is not the same word as yours or mine. Indeed, the Word of God is infinitely greater than human words. But since you are created in the image of God, your word should reflect some semblance of the divine Word and its power, unless you obscure this gift through inattention or frivolity.
The word has placed humanity above all earthly creation on the ladder of beings, above the moon and the sun; the word has united people into societies, created cities and kingdoms; in the word, knowledge, wisdom, and law live and move; through the word, virtue is formed, encouraged, and spread; in prayer, the word converses with God. The word of people like us, when united with the truth of divine knowledge and the righteousness of faith, and thus in union with the Word and Spirit of God, has ruled over nature, healed the sick, driven out dark forces, and raised the dead.”
From this, it is clear what immense respect we must have for the word. And it becomes shameful when we reflect on our attitude toward it. Not for nothing did Seneca write about people and their conversations: “Every time I am among people, I return to myself less human.”
What disrespect for the word is expressed, for example, in foul language. “I begin to envy animals,” said one wise man, “for they cannot disgrace the word, which can be an instrument of prophecy—and yet in humans, it often reeks like a pit of refuse.”
What disrespect for the word is shown in the sin of idle talk, when the word, through which the apostles built the Kingdom of Christ and the disciples of truth established kingdoms of righteousness on earth, is used to “beat the air” without purpose or meaning.
But it is even worse, even more terrible, when the word becomes a direct instrument of evil. Even bloody wars, according to the Prologue, have not caused as much harm as the evil word.
“A double-tongued man,” says the church’s word in the Prologue, “divides friends, sows slander and discord among those living in peace… The talebearer and the double-tongued deserve a curse, for they have destroyed many who lived in peace. A lying tongue has troubled many and ruined them, so that because of the tongue, strong cities have fallen, and the houses of the wealthy have been corrupted. A lying tongue has driven virtuous women from their homes and deprived them of the fruits of their labors. Whoever listens to it will find no peace and will not live calmly. Many have fallen by the edge of the sword, but far more have fallen by the tongue. Blessed is the one who is shielded from it and escapes its wrath.”
We must seek “holy silence,” that respect for the word which compels us to open our mouths only for the work of peacemaking, for words of love, for preaching God’s truth.
We spoke of the advice given by Swiss guides to tourists: “Do not shout. One word can cause death. The vibration of the air from a loudly spoken word is enough to trigger an avalanche, and it will bury us forever…”
Teachers of piety always remembered that one word could bring destruction, and they respected the word, carefully weighing in advance what it would bring: good and peace, or evil and falsehood.
In the region of Nursia, there lived a monk named Florentius. Once, this monk, grieved by the evil deeds of four wicked brothers, expressed confidence that the Almighty God would not leave their malice unpunished. Soon after, those brothers died in great suffering. And the elder wept afterward, blaming himself, thinking that perhaps the word he spoke was the cause of their death. He considered himself a murderer.
How unlike us this is: how many times has our careless word “caused avalanches,” destroyed peace, or inflicted mortal wounds on our neighbor? And we didn’t even notice. We handle a copper coin with far more care than the gold of the word.
“Prefer silence, for it restrains you from many sins,” says St. Isaac the Syrian.
“Do not be quick with your mouth,” says Solomon (Eccl. 5:2). “You must consider whether the word you bring into the world will be for your good and the good of others.” And Psalm 38 begins with the words: “I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will guard my mouth…”
The lives of the saints show how Christ’s disciples understood these words. Once, the great Pambo knocked on the door of a monk known for his wisdom and learning.
“What brings you to me, my son?” the monk asked the hermit.
“I am illiterate, Father,” Pambo replied, “and I have come to ask you to read me something from the Holy Scriptures so that I may know what to do to fulfill the word and will of God.”
“With great joy, my son, I will fulfill your request,” the monk replied. “Listen.”
The elder opened the book of Psalms and began to read Psalm 38. But as soon as he read the second verse of the psalm, Pambo jumped up and, in agitation, stopped him.
“Enough, my father, enough!” he said hurriedly. “Oh, what great words!”
“Thank you, Father,” he addressed the elder, “I need no more reading of the holy books for now. When I learn to fulfill this verse, I will return to you and ask you to read further.” And Pambo left.
Days and weeks passed, but Pambo did not return to the elder-teacher. Six months later, the monk happened to travel through the desert where Pambo lived, on business for the monastery, and he met the hermit by chance.
“Why don’t you come to me?” he asked Pambo. “For six months, I have waited for you in vain. Have you changed your intention?”
“Oh no,” Pambo replied, “but you remember, Father, I said I would come when I learned to fulfill the verse you read to me in deed, and I have not yet achieved that…”
These are the people who knew how to guard “their mouths”…