It is only recently I came to know about a Spanish Catholic priest, Pablo d’Ors. I saw a reference to his 2012 book, Biography of Silence, which I have used as a title for these spiritual reflections. The subtitle of his book is revealing: An Essay on Meditation. As I began to read the book, I smiled. I smile because a Quaker grows up with a great deal of silence. In some sense silence is our medium of worship. I know that does not sound exciting---and sometimes is can seem quite boring. But the goal of silence is not silence. The goal of silence is connection and engagement. We seek to connect with the Holy One and engage the God who created and still is the creative presence in our lives.
I think this is what d’Ors is seeking, too. I like how he begins his book. He writes, “I began to sit in silence and stillness on my own account and at my own risk, without anyone to give me any basic notions of how to do so or to accompany me in the process.” (13) That reminds me of my very young Quaker days. We would sit in silence and I sometimes wondered why. And this was before everyone had cell phones with the instant distraction and entertainment afforded by these miraculous devices. Most folks today would say the way you connect and engage is with your cell. The problem is the connection and engagement seldom is with God! And so it was that I resonated with these opening words of Pablo d’Ors.
Early in his book, he hints at what he might be searching for---even though he probably was not fully aware of it in the moment. He confesses, “…there was something very powerful that pulled me: the intuition that the path of silent meditation would guide me to encounter my own self at least as much or more so than literature, which I have always been very fond of.” He adds a nice thought when he says, “having a good image of yourself is necessary for spiritual progress.”
We may not think too much about what image we have of ourselves, but if we listen to d’Ors, we realize how much egocentric belief and behavior characterizes our world---and maybe much of our own attitudes and actions. Of course, most of us probably don’t think about ourselves as egocentric. We write others off with a bigger dose of egocentrism when we label someone an egomaniac. However, when I am honest, I realize how often I put myself first---well (sometimes always first) before others. I see myself to be selfless, but in reality I am often first in line. Others are behind me. And sometimes very far behind me.
The egocentric person is the one who assumes, or even says, I’ll get mine first. And then you can have yours. Egocentric folks tend to be a little wary, if not downright fearful. That’s why we grab in order to get what is there. If there are things left over, we graciously tell folks to “have at it.” Perhaps this is a good way to see how silence is such an odd practice in contemporary society. Silence seems like doing nothing. Silence even seems a little cowardly, or even stupid. Why would you wait? Someone likely will beat you to the prize---whatever that is. For most of us, talk is our preferred way of dealing with the world. We ask for what we want. Or perhaps, we must demand it.
Pablo d’Ors’ book is helpful because by being silent, he has learned to be aware. And his awareness leads him to be attentive. His attentiveness enables him to learn from his experience and it is his experience that we read about and can incorporate into our own learning. A good example of this is what he learned early on about silence. He tells us “For the first year, I was incredibly restless when I sat to meditate: my back hurt, my chest, my legs…To tell the truth, almost everything hurt. Nonetheless, I soon noticed that there was practically never a moment when some part of my body did not hurt me; it was just that when I sat to meditate I became conscious of that pain.”
And this example shows how he began the learning process, which I would call spiritual. He shares his early learning in these words. “I did not take long to extract a lesson from this: pure observation is transformative. I think I have learned something about that same lesson. It is fairly simple, but many of us don’t do it very much or at all. The biggest lesson is to recognize that the spiritual life---life in the Spirit---won’t happen without some effort. The paradoxical thing is we give effort all the time. The problem is we don’t give the right effort.
That is where silence enters the picture. Silence is a different kind of effort---almost a “non effort.” Our normal worldly efforts typically don’t lead us to be aware and attentive of who we truly are and, therefore, little chance of grasping who God is. Silence breaks this worldly mold. It sets us apart and sets us up to be aware in a different fashion. Our attentiveness enables us to observe in a spiritual way. And this way of observing is transformative. We become someone new---perhaps renewed.
We are transformed to see ourselves not as the center of things, but in relation to all things. In relationship there is no center. Or perhaps, we learn there is no “me-center,” but more a “we-center.” That is the new biography we begin to write from the silence.
I think this is what d’Ors is seeking, too. I like how he begins his book. He writes, “I began to sit in silence and stillness on my own account and at my own risk, without anyone to give me any basic notions of how to do so or to accompany me in the process.” (13) That reminds me of my very young Quaker days. We would sit in silence and I sometimes wondered why. And this was before everyone had cell phones with the instant distraction and entertainment afforded by these miraculous devices. Most folks today would say the way you connect and engage is with your cell. The problem is the connection and engagement seldom is with God! And so it was that I resonated with these opening words of Pablo d’Ors.
Early in his book, he hints at what he might be searching for---even though he probably was not fully aware of it in the moment. He confesses, “…there was something very powerful that pulled me: the intuition that the path of silent meditation would guide me to encounter my own self at least as much or more so than literature, which I have always been very fond of.” He adds a nice thought when he says, “having a good image of yourself is necessary for spiritual progress.”
We may not think too much about what image we have of ourselves, but if we listen to d’Ors, we realize how much egocentric belief and behavior characterizes our world---and maybe much of our own attitudes and actions. Of course, most of us probably don’t think about ourselves as egocentric. We write others off with a bigger dose of egocentrism when we label someone an egomaniac. However, when I am honest, I realize how often I put myself first---well (sometimes always first) before others. I see myself to be selfless, but in reality I am often first in line. Others are behind me. And sometimes very far behind me.
The egocentric person is the one who assumes, or even says, I’ll get mine first. And then you can have yours. Egocentric folks tend to be a little wary, if not downright fearful. That’s why we grab in order to get what is there. If there are things left over, we graciously tell folks to “have at it.” Perhaps this is a good way to see how silence is such an odd practice in contemporary society. Silence seems like doing nothing. Silence even seems a little cowardly, or even stupid. Why would you wait? Someone likely will beat you to the prize---whatever that is. For most of us, talk is our preferred way of dealing with the world. We ask for what we want. Or perhaps, we must demand it.
Pablo d’Ors’ book is helpful because by being silent, he has learned to be aware. And his awareness leads him to be attentive. His attentiveness enables him to learn from his experience and it is his experience that we read about and can incorporate into our own learning. A good example of this is what he learned early on about silence. He tells us “For the first year, I was incredibly restless when I sat to meditate: my back hurt, my chest, my legs…To tell the truth, almost everything hurt. Nonetheless, I soon noticed that there was practically never a moment when some part of my body did not hurt me; it was just that when I sat to meditate I became conscious of that pain.”
And this example shows how he began the learning process, which I would call spiritual. He shares his early learning in these words. “I did not take long to extract a lesson from this: pure observation is transformative. I think I have learned something about that same lesson. It is fairly simple, but many of us don’t do it very much or at all. The biggest lesson is to recognize that the spiritual life---life in the Spirit---won’t happen without some effort. The paradoxical thing is we give effort all the time. The problem is we don’t give the right effort.
That is where silence enters the picture. Silence is a different kind of effort---almost a “non effort.” Our normal worldly efforts typically don’t lead us to be aware and attentive of who we truly are and, therefore, little chance of grasping who God is. Silence breaks this worldly mold. It sets us apart and sets us up to be aware in a different fashion. Our attentiveness enables us to observe in a spiritual way. And this way of observing is transformative. We become someone new---perhaps renewed.
We are transformed to see ourselves not as the center of things, but in relation to all things. In relationship there is no center. Or perhaps, we learn there is no “me-center,” but more a “we-center.” That is the new biography we begin to write from the silence.
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