Silence

Dear Benedict,

This week we saw the death toll of those people in UK who have died from COVID19 go above 100,000. To this news there is only, initially at least, silence. There may also be weeping, anger, denial, and many other things, but respectful silence at this loss of life is fundamental, whatever we do next.

Indeed there are many kinds of silence. Even if we are silent that doesn’t mean other things are not happening around and within the silence. Your Rule recognised this in chapter 42. Silence has many important functions: to rest, to listen, to affirm, to show respect, to indicate agreement or awe for example. And of course silence may be our only response if our voice has been taken away.

It is partly because of the complexity of silence that we must examine it again and again. It is too simple to say we live in a noisy world and therefore we all need silence. What kind of silence we might need and what kinds of silence are unhelpful need to be considered.

It is now well known that the silence that follows abuse of different kinds (but which are essentially different aspects of the misuse of power one over another) is a damaging kind of silence. Unfortunately no institution, not least the Church, can claim indemnity to this kind of abuse. Some of that silence has included the silence of unquestioning loyalty or fence sitting as well as the silence of cover up, threat and complicity. These may not have been the kinds of silence you were writing about but they have crept poisonously into many communities and we have to be alert to them. Many have been damaged by them and that damage is still causing havoc in people’s lives. A traumatised person said :’Every time I retell my story I am traumatised again’. Thus the breaking of silence also creates its own traumas.

It was my work as a speech therapist that first bought me face to face with many layers of silence and was one to the things I bought into ministry. However, it has never been a comfortable gift. Even this week, considering when to keep silent and when to speak have been once again on my mind when faced with evidence of the effects of unhealthy silences on people in different places. It can be a heavy thing to carry, which is why the Great Silence is so important: a time and place to put even silence down.

It is like that action a cook takes when folding flour into beaten eggs and sugar to make a cake. The dry mixture is folded, not beaten, into the wet and you can see them meeting each other, one gradually becoming the other, as they are folded together. Try it and see what you make of it.

And as you do, in this week of all weeks, let your silence take up the unspoken names of those affected by the current Pandemic and in other ways, in memory of those caught up in the holocaust and other genocides, those survivors of abuse and any who are unable to break out of unhealthy forms of silence. May the silence we enjoy be true silence of the embrace of the Holy One. May it be the ground of our being and the strength from which we emerge to serve the world.

There are many kinds of silence….

From the remembered bible: Be still and know God.

I crawl into your silence.

From a Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.

Anthem for doomed workers

I’d apologise to Wilfred Owen if I could meet him, but some how I think he’d understand……

If in some smothering dreams you too couldĀ  pace

Along the corridors so clean and pale,

And hear the ping and suck of each machine,

Each laboured breath that’s on the edge of fail.

If you could see in every face the care

Plastered on with sweat to skin so bruised,

Each mark a sign of time spent as you dare,

The insufficient mask or absent veil,

My friend, you would not brief the clamouring press,

With words that hint at some desperate glory,

The old lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.


JAL. 28.04.2020 in Longdendale on Worker’s Memorial Day 2020

My best friend, my Lazarus

Four days since I heard he was ill. Four days of knotting my stomach, of a disconnected head and a pounding heart. Four days of measuring each breath I take, hoping only that he is still taking them too. Four days of dry mouthed fear and crawling skin. Four days, four days.

Four days since I got the message that Lazarus was ill. Four days hoping, praying, wandering, waking in the night, sweating. Four days of indecision. Too far away to do anything.

Four days of uncertainty: should I stay, should I go. Four days with my hands shaking and no will to eat. Each night I call for peace but there is no peace.

Now I stand outside, my cheeks wet, my body trembling, my head a void. Martha worries about the smell. I am anxious about far more than that. Four days, four days.

The stale air reaches my nostrils. I scream into the abyss. ‘Come out, my best friend, my Lazarus’.

JAL 29.03.2020 during the COVID 19 Pandemic, when the lectionary remembering was the Rising of Lazarus.