A
Song of Bethlehem: An Advent Series
II. Silence
Philippians 2:1-13
Second Sunday of
Advent
6th December 2015
Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper
I
have this problem. I’m in a predicament. It’s a problem, a predicament of my
own making. I put this Advent sermon
series together around four hymns and came up with one word titles for each
week.[1] Today’s hymn is “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep
Silence.” Today’s title is “Silence.” As I worked on the sermon this week it became
clear that something was not quite right. There was something odd at work, something
ironic: I was searching for words in order to talk about, preach about silence.
Here I am, now, using audible sounds, words, to say something about the
importance of silence in the Christian experience. I should just shut up and be quiet.
I’m good company here, though. Diarmaid MacCulloch is Professor of Church
History at Oxford University. An
extraordinary scholar, author of weighty tomes—both figuratively and literally
speaking, his books usually average 900 pages, MacCulloch recently Silence: A Christian History, a 240-page
book on the history of silence within the Christian tradition. It’s obviously a
story worth telling.[2]
And, yet, for all its importance
within Christianity, as well as Judaism, there’s certainly not enough of
silence in our lives. As Protestants, as
Presbyterians, we’re an especially wordy bunch of Jesus freaks. We love words, spoken or written. We are people of the Book and of books. Yes,
we’re a wordy lot. Primacy is given to the
power of the spoken word to transform hearts and minds, even the world. In fact, the Reformed tradition believes that
when a minister stands to preach the words, via the Holy Spirit, actually become the Word of God.[3] Our worship is full of words. Just look at the bulletin.
However, the prophet Habakkuk
reminded us, centuries ago, “Yahweh is in his holy temple; let all the world
keep silence before him” (Habakkuk 2:20)!
There’s a time and place for music and song in the worship of Yahweh, a
time to hear holy words, a time for prayer, for ritual, for sacraments. But all of this must not be done at the
expense of silence.
Sometimes silence is the only
appropriate way to worship God, because as many mystics have taught us, in both
the Judaic and Christian traditions, silence
itself is holy. Some have even
suggested that God is experienced most profoundly in silence, because God is silence.
St.
Augustine (354-430) in the fourth/fifth century said going deep and discovering
the different levels of silence is what it means to “Enter into the joy of your
Lord” (Mt. 25:21).[4]
St.
John Climacus (d. 606), the seventh century monk at St. Catherine’s monastery
in the Sinai, said, “The friend of silence comes close to God.”[5]
The
German mystic Meister Eckhart (1260-1328) said, “The noblest attainment in this
life is to be silent and let God work and speak within.”[6]
The
Spanish mystic John of the Cross (1542-1591) said, “The Father spoke one Word,
which was His Son, and this Word He always speaks in eternal silence, and in
silence must It be heard by the soul.”[7]
Angelus
Silesius (1624-1677), priest and physician, said, “God far exceeds all words
that we can here express. In silence he
is heard, in silence worshipped best.”[8]
From very early in our history, Ignatius,
bishop of Antioch (c.50-c.98-117) confessed, “God revealed himself through
Jesus Christ his Son, who is his Word that came forth from silence…”[9]
Did
you catch that? Jesus Christ is God’s
Word “that came forth from
silence.” In other words, the Word
became flesh (John 1:14) from out of the silence
that is God. Before the Word there
is silence. The Word emerges from the silence. Silence is holy.
My mentor, James Loder (1931-2001),
was fond of saying that we go from silence to silence.[10] All truth emerges from silence and before the
awesomeness of truth, especially before the truth of God, we are silenced,
rendered speechless. Because all the
words in the world are inadequate before the mystery of God’s incarnation, when
the Word became flesh, or, as they sang in the early Church, “when God emptied
himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness” (Philippians
2:7).
What
can be said before such mystery? How do
we find words to articulate this truth?
We will try, because language is also holy. That’s what theology is for:
theos (God) + logos (word) = God words. But there comes a time when we must reframe
from speaking, when we need to be silent and stand in awe before this
mystery. Indeed, before such glory, before
and under the weight of this glory it might be difficult to stand. You might
find yourself slowly falling down, down on your knees in praise, “so that at
the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the
earth, and every tongue” confess him Lord (Phil. 2:10).
Yes, the poet T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) was right
about the meaning of the Christian life.
He said:
You are not here to
verify,
Instruct yourself,
inform curiosity
Or carry report.
You are here to
kneel….[11]
This is the movement or direction of
the hymn “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence,” which leads us directly into the
mystery of the incarnation and cautions us to approach with silence, with fear
and trembling, with awe. It invites us
to kneel before the mystery.
We
often sing this hymn in Advent. In The Presbyterian Hymnal (1990) the hymn was
placed in the Advent section. However,
the hymn lost its Advent status in the new hymnal Glory to God (2013); it’s now situated in a section titled “Christ’s
Return and Judgment.” The text actually
comes out of the Eastern Orthodox Church, from the fourth-century Divine Liturgy of St. James, the oldest
liturgy of the Christian church (around 275), a liturgy used on Holy Saturday,
between Good Friday and Easter. These
words are sung during the “Great Entrance,” when the bread and wine are processed
into the sanctuary during the Offertory before the celebration of the Eucharist. The hymn, or troparian, is a call to be silent and to venerate the elements of
Communion, the mystery of God in the flesh.
And so we will sing this ancient
hymn today, to the
modern French melody PICARDY, we will sing it before we approach the Lord’s
Table. Let us sing it, not in veneration
of the elements, but with holy awe before the Real Presence of the Lord, whose
birth—whose flesh and blood—embody the wisdom and love of God. Let us sing in veneration of the mystery of
the incarnation—the Word made flesh—the Word that came forth and continues to
come forth—from silence.
____________________________
Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descending
Comes our homage to demand.
King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
Comes the powers of hell to
vanquish
As the darkness clears away.
At His feet the six winged seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!
-Trans.
from the Greek by Gerard Moultrie (1829-1885)
[1]
This sermon series is designed to complement our adult education series,
written by Mary Louise Bringle & Beverly Howard, O Come, O Come, Emmanuel: Reflections on Four Seasonal Hymns, Resource
for Advent I. (The Presbyterian Publishing Corporation: The Thoughtful
Christian, 2015).
[2]Diarmaid MacCulloch, Silence: A Christian History (New York:
Viking, 2013). See also Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years
(New York: Penguin Books, 2011), at 1184 pages, and The Reformation: A History (New York: Penguin Books, 2005), at 864
pages.
[3] See, for example, the Heidelberg
Catechism, 1563.
[4] St. Augustine, Confessions, IX, 10.
[5] St. John Climacus, The Ladder of Divine Ascent, Step 11, 4
(5), cited in Martin Laird, Into Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice
of Contemplation (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 23.
[6] Meister Eckhart, Sermon I, in Sermons and Treatises, vol. 1, cited in
Laird, 23.
[7] St. John of the Cross, Maxims on
Love, 21, cited in Laird, 23.
[8] Angelus Silesius, The Cherubinic Wanderer, I, 240, cited
in Laird, 23.
[9] Ignatius, Magnesians 8.2, cited in MacCulloch, 49.
[10] For more on Loder, see Kenneth E.
Kovacs, The Relational Theology of James
E. Loder: Encounter and Conviction (New York: Peter Lang, 2011).
[11] T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding,” Four Quartets.
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