Silence & Sensibility
This month I’m practicing the virtue of silence and I was sure it would be simple because:
a). as an avowed introvert, I loooove silence;
b). I deal with some sensory oversensitivity to noise. My open concept high school without walls was an absolute delight (and by delight, I mean disaster). I could partake of not only my own class, but the classes happening 15 feet on either side of my class and those on the other side of the hall as well. Let’s just say that my Algebra II class was a real distraction from the discussion of A Prayer for Owen Meaning happening in the 20th Century American Novel class next door.
But mostly, I thought practicing silence would simple because:
c). I was already sort of practicing silence as part of my temperance practice from last month.
Given how simple silence was supposed to be, I was surprised to run into a big problem: I’m not sure that silence is a virtue.
Silence provides a way to learn about ourselves, each other, and everything else. Take a look at Norton Juster’s description in The Phantom Tollbooth1:
“Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.”
There are myriad silences to explore and that are beautiful and can show us how to be better humans. But silence can also be ugly and festering. Now take a look Martin Niemöller’s take on silence:
“First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me2.”
Niemöller was talking about the silence that led to the Jewish Holocaust. That kind of silence is not a virtue, it’s a cowardice born of deep fear and powerlessness and perhaps indifference. The antidote to that fear and powerlessness is to speak up.
“and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.3”
The question of whether silence is a virtue obviously depends on context. The problem, then, becomes how to discern when it’s better to keep silent and when we have an imperative not to be silent. My guess is that if we’re honest with ourselves, our conscience lets us know. As I continue practicing silence this month, I find that I’m paying more and more attention to understanding individual contexts of silence and whether they’re virtuous or not. That contemplation cultivates a wisdom that I’m not sure I have yet. But while I work on it, I’ll leave you with Khalil Gibran’s lyrical advice on the topic:
“ You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the colour is forgotten and the vessel is no more.4”
What do you hear in the sounds of silence? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
Notes:
Image by Khalil Gibran
"File:Kahlil Gibran - The Prophet 12.png." Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository. 2 Jan 2019, 03:46 UTC. 8 Nov 2019, 19:12 <https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Kahlil_Gibran_-_The_Prophet_12.png&oldid=333118154>.
Juster, Norton. The Annotated Phantom Tollbooth. Knopf Books for Young Readers, 2011. p. 151
“Martin Niemöller: ‘First They Came for the Socialists…’” United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, 30 Mar. 2012, encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/martin-niemoeller-first-they-came-for-the-socialists.
Lourde, Audre. “A Litany for Survival.” The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde. W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1997.
Khalil Gibran. “On Talking.” The Prophet. Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 2005. p. 60