Shut Up and Pray

My parents taught me that telling someone to shut up was impolite. That may be true.

I once asked a priest what the Divine One would say about prayer. He quipped, “Shut up and listen.”

Such advice threw me for a loop. I come from a world of action. I live by “Who is going to do what by when?”

My brain is constantly being pressed into action around problems to be solved. How could I measure progress without a project with measurable outcomes?

Silence can be uncomfortable and a threat. It gives my ego, the pest within, little room to move.

Why do we constantly search for content to fill a vacant space? It is much like the discomfort we feel with pauses in a conversation. Instead of just sitting in silence, we often feel the compulsion to say something.

We do well to heed the advice of Fr. Richard Rohr, “Prayer is sitting in silence until it silences us.”

How true! Have you ever noticed that there are gaps between notes on sheet music? But for those pauses, there would be

Noise

Sometimes prayer is pure chatter.

In my early Tribe days, it was about frenetic chatter directed at heaven. We informed God about the people that needed to be saved (converted), the wounds and illnesses that required healing (the organ recital), and of course, there was always a confession of our sins and the request for Forgiveness (the transgression dump).

When I embarked on this unchartered inner journey in silence, I was at a loss for where I could find help. Then, on the recommendation of a friend, a former Jesuit novice, I sought spiritual direction.

On the spiritual retreat, I asked my spiritual director and psychologist, Leo Rock, “What do I do in spiritual direction?” Leo replied, “Nothing.”

The benefits of living with silence are legion. Creativity, or seeing or acting in divergent ways (out of the box), often emerges from what Thomas Keating, architect of Centering Prayer, calls “thunderous silence.”

As a psychologist and executive coach, I value pauses in the dialog. I often use these occasions to ask for the inner source of wisdom to instruct me by praying, “what’s going on here?’ or “please give me the wisdom to see.” More often than not, I make a comment that shifts the direction of the conversation in a dramatically new direction. I love the advice the ancient Hebrew priest Eli gave to the boy Samuel: “Go and lie down, and if He calls you, say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

Silence in prayer (or any conversation) is easier said than done.

Any novice in meditation I attest to the fact that silencing over-active thoughts is integral to any practice. Focusing on our breath can activate a thought muffler. We can sometimes disable the ego by instructing it, “You don’t have a problem to solve.” Taking it out of the game and benching it creates space for the true self to emerge.

Some years ago, I took a friend to our local meditation group in Mexico. He had never been to such a gathering before. After meditation, I asked him how he felt about the experience. He replied, “I prepared the outline for my university class for the next semester.”

Before I am too quick to criticize my friend, let me admit that I have used meditation time to write an entire blog in my head. Talk about “Restless Mind Syndrome”! However, sometimes in rare moments, my thoughts quiet, and the line of sight to the other world becomes more apparent.

Another venue for generating awareness is often in nature. I read recently that 40% of folks in the USA experience God in the natural world. Long ago, I memorized a line from the Psalms that speaks to the natural world’s power. “Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night reveals knowledge.” As I immerse myself in the sounds of the river running through our property, the wind in the cottonwood trees, and the ravens calling each other in the early morning, at times, I glimpse Presence

I often use the following exercise focusing on the silence that I learned from Fr. Richard Rohr. I repeat this sequence several times.

Be still and know that I am God Be still and know that I am Be still and know Be still Be

My talk, till you drop prayer life, is slowly being transformed into a craving for silence.

What’s your appetite for silence?