The
form of Cardinal Sarah’s The Power of
Silence: Against the Dictatorship of Noise is rather odd, or at least
different. The book is facilitated by
Nicolas Diat, and apparently the two combined in Cardinal Sarh’s other book, God or Nothing, which I have to admit I
have not read. Nicolas Diat is a French
author and journalist who writes of Catholic issues, and Robert Cardinal Sarah,
born
in French Guinea (known today simply as Guinea) is one of the leading Cardinals
in the College of Cardinals. I believe
he was on the short list for the Papacy.
In a way he stands as the intellectual heir to Pope Benedict XVI, which
is saying quite a lot to Cardinal Sarah’s acumen. What makes the form of this book different is
that though it’s a book of non-fiction it is not shaped as an evolving
argument.
The
form is that of an extended interview.
Diat will ask a question and Cardinal Sarah addresses the question in a
discourse, either in a short paragraph or in a lengthy treatise. Obviously this wasn’t developed as an actual
oral interview, but some means of written composition. At least that’s how it seems to me. What you get is a non-linear form of
argumentation. It’s almost circular to
me. I don’t mean that as a circular
argument, but of circling around a central point. The central thesis of the book is answered
right up front in the very first paragraph of chapter one. Diat asks the Cardinal how are we to
understand silence, and Sarah responds with:
There is one great
question: how can man really be in the image of God? He must enter into silence.
When he drapes himself in
silence, as God himself dwells in a great silence, man is close to heaven, or,
rather, he allows God to manifest himself in him. (p.21)
From
that central thesis, Diat and Sarah circle around the theme to fully expound
all the ramifications, all the nuances, all the richness of the thought, and,
indeed, all implications. So, Diat and
Sarah don’t build linearly to a conclusion but circle the heart of the thesis
until one is left knowing everything there is to know about the transformative
wonder of silence.
The
“Introduction” stands outside that interview structure. Diat sets up what inspired the book, and that
was a relationship that had developed between Cardinal Sarah and Carthusian
monk Brother Vincent. Not only are
Carthusian monks https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carthusians under
the practice of limited speech but Brother Vincent had some incurable disease that
prevented him from speaking altogether.
So this was a very intense and out of the ordinary friendship, even
beyond Brother Vincent’s death.
The friendship was born
in silence, it grew in silence, and it continues to exist in silence.
The meetings with Brother
Vincent were a fragment of eternity. We
never doubted the importance of each of the minutes spent with him. Silence made it possible to raise every
sentiment toward the most perfect state.
When it was necessary to leave the abbey, we knew that Vincent’s silence
would make us stronger to confront the world’s noises. (p. 10)
Diat
goes on to tell that this book could never have been written without Brother
Vincent.
He showed us that the
silence into which illness had plunged him allowed him to enter ever more
deeply into the truth of things. God’s
reasons are often mysterious. Why did he
decide to try so severely a young man who was asking for nothing? Why such a cruel, violent, and painful
sickness? Why this sublime meeting
between a cardinal who had arrived at the summit of the Church and a sick
person confined to a room? Silence was
the salt that seasoned this story.
Silence was the elevator to heaven.
(p. 11)
I
have to say, that ever since reading that introduction and the first chapter,
“God Does Not Speak, but His Voice is Quite Clear” I have looked for moments of
complete silence. It’s actually very
difficult to find. There is always some
noise occurring in the background, and that is actually frustrating. But on those moments of pure silence, which
probably don’t last more than a minute except perhaps in the middle of night, I
have found that silence to be immensely pleasurable. It is utterly soothing. There is something to its power. Cardinal Sarah is on to something.
Having
established that the world’s noise runs contrary to the silence that is God,
Cardinal Sarah demonstrates in chapter two (“God Does Not Speak, But His Voice
Is Quite Clear”) how God speaks in His silence.
Creation itself is a
silent word of God. The wordless beauty
of nature displays before our eyes the manifold riches of a Father who is
ceaselessly present among men. This
devine speech is not audible to ears that are too human; nevertheless, it is
the most profound speech of all. The
sun, the moon, and the stars are absolutely silent to our ears, but they are a
word and a message essential to our earthly existence. There is a language of the stars that we can
neither know nor comprehend but that God understands perfectly. (P162)
Cardinal
Sarah takes us through God the Father’s silence, the silence of Jesus Christ,
and the silence of the Holy Spirit. He
even tales us through the silence of the Blessed Mother and that of her spouse,
St. Joseph.
In
the third chapter (“Silence, the Mystery, and the Sacred”) Cardinal Sarah establishes
how before the holiness of God, Man is required to be silent.
Before the divine
majesty, we are at a loss for words. Who
would dare speak up in the presence of
the Almighty? When God reveals his glory
to Isaiah, the prophet cries out: “Holy, holy, holy!” He uses the Hebrew word kadosh, which means holy and sacred at the same time. Then he exclaims: “I am lost!” We could just as well translate it: “I am
reduced to silence!” (Is 6:5). (P. 227)
And
he develops this further.
Sacred silence is therefore
the only truly human and Christian reaction to God when he breaks into our
lives. It seems that God himself teaches
us that he expects from us his worship of silent, sacred adoration…Our sacred
silence becomes a silence of joy, of intimacy, and of communion: “The words of
the wise [are] heard in the quiet” (Eccles 9:17). (P. 231)
Cardinal
Sarah goes on to show the need for silence in our forms of worship and
adoration, especially in the liturgy.
Yes ... we can pray in silence. God listens.
ReplyDeleteGod bless.