The silent shout
When God examines us, he does not do so more forcefully in the ears of our body than in the secret places of our thoughts, where he alone hears, he alone is heard. …
There are many ways in which God speaks with us. Sometimes he speaks by means of some instrument, such as by a book of the divine Scriptures; he speaks by some element of the world; … he speaks by lots;… he speaks by a human soul, such as by a prophet; … he speaks by an angel; … he speaks by some vocal or sounding creature…. But God also speaks to a person, not outwardly by eyes or ears, but inwardly, in the mind, and he does so in more than one way, as, for example, in dreams, … or by lifting a man’s spirit up, as when Peter while praying saw a vessel let down from the sky full of likenesses of the Gentiles who were to come to believe, or in the mind itself, when someone understands God’s majesty or his will, as when Peter by that very vision came to know what the Lord wanted him to do by reflecting within himself. For no one can recognize this unless inwardly, within him, truth resounds with its silent shout. (Augustine, Sermon 12, 3-4; PL 38, 101-102)
Joe: What a wonderful passage – I wonder if it was the inspiration for the oxymoronic “silent music” (la musica callada) used by Saint John of the Cross in his Spiritual Canticle. The phrase in the poem gets an extended commentary by John in his prose reflection on the poem.
Thanks, Larry. The striking phrase in the first little paragraph is ubi solus audit, solus auditur. “Silent shout” translates tacito clamore.
Fine sermon. Quite relevant for the Courts of the Gentiles.
I was surprised by “he speaks by lots”, thinking Augustine wouldn’t trust dice, I tried to check it in at least half a dozen dictionaries at OneLook. They gave “many, much” and approximate synonyms, and they gave “parcel of land”. But not one of them gave “lots” as the game of chance using dice nor any hint of that meaning, except that property can be divided by a game of chance. Still . . .
Doesn’t the term appear in the accounts of the Crucifixion, where the soldiers cast lots for Jesus’ garments? I thought all Biblical terms and all Shakespeare were supposedly covered.
Ann: Not even the OED has “lots” as a game of chance, but it does have “lot” as one of the pieces that might be pulled or picked in the game. It also has “casting lots,” so I guess the plural works. In Acts 1:21-26, Matthias is chosen by lots over Barnabas to take the place of Judas and so to reconstitute the highly symbolic Twelve.
This is a kind of far out question, but does the Bible ever comment on the place of randomness in the world? It is, of course, a central issue in the debate between the Dawkinses and the creationists.
Ann,
Just some “random” samples:
Psalms 37, 47, 55, 73
Book of Job, ch 12, ch. 38-41
Ecclesiastes, ch. 8
Luke 13:2, 13:4
Kathy –
Thanks very much for the samples. The Psalms, Job, and Luke all appreciate our lack of understandng of God’s plans, but Ecclesiastes, I think, shows so clearly that the ways of the Lord are arbitrary, or so they seem to us.
That’s what I think needs understanding — or what we would *like* to understand. I mean we’d like to understand why God does these arbitrary things. It seems that the very arbitrariness, the contengency must have some sort of value — but what? The arbitariness is indeed a silent shout, a contradiction even. Job did see that what God does sometimes seems to contradict His very Being as we understand it, but I don’t think he found any value in it.
You’re welcome, Ann.
Ecclesiastes is such an unusual book. It actually seems to be written from a perspective that is more or less opposed to meaning. All the worst aspects of life are brought to the fore, and none of it seems meaningful.
It’s interesting to me that the Church, and the Holy Spirit, would include a Book like this in the Bible. It’s like an act of trust in believers, that we will enter into our most angsty reaches. Or it’s an act of trust in God, to speak in Scripture about our doubts.
Ecclesiastes contains one of the most poetically beautiful passages of Scripture, I think, in chapter 12. It’s about old age, and death, and of course, vanity:
Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth,
Before the difficult days come,
And the years draw near when you say,
“ I have no pleasure in them”:
2 While the sun and the light,
The moon and the stars,
Are not darkened,
And the clouds do not return after the rain;
3 In the day when the keepers of the house tremble,
And the strong men bow down;
When the grinders cease because they are few,
And those that look through the windows grow dim;
4 When the doors are shut in the streets,
And the sound of grinding is low;
When one rises up at the sound of a bird,
And all the daughters of music are brought low.
5 Also they are afraid of height,
And of terrors in the way;
When the almond tree blossoms,
The grasshopper is a burden,
And desire fails.
For man goes to his eternal home,
And the mourners go about the streets.
6 Remember your Creator before the silver cord is loosed,
Or the golden bowl is broken,
Or the pitcher shattered at the fountain,
Or the wheel broken at the well.
7 Then the dust will return to the earth as it was,
And the spirit will return to God who gave it.
8 “ Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher,
“ All is vanity.”
It’s pretty sad, actually. There is also one lament Psalm that doesn’t “turn around” and become a praise Psalm. Most of them do, e.g. Psalm 22. I think all of the others do. But Psalm 88 just ends in darkness.
Kathy –
It seems to me that Ecclesiastes and Job and some of the Psalms are meant to make us aware of the so-far supreme mystery belief. q Job is not enlightened with answers to the questions he puts to God. God essentially tell him to shut up, that he isn’t God and can’t expect to understand. But Gpd is angry at Job’s friends for not telling the truth about Him– that He looks unjust! Job both tells the truth and accepts the fact that God seems unjust and is rewarded. Is this not the irony of ironies?
It looks to me like God wants us to tell the unadorned truth about Him just as Job did — that at times He seems to be unjust and unloving. He even has given us those books of the Bible to reflect on that fact. But there is also the fact of Christ who accepted what appeared to be His Father’s unjust request to suffer and die. HOwever, unlike Job, Jesus doesn’t seem to see His Father as unjust. On the contrary. So I see Christ as something of an answer to Job’s questions, though His answers to the Father’s “injustice” is to accept it out of love. But even that is not entirely satisfactory.
Ann,
In the last chapter of his long Last Supper Discourse, in John 17, Jesus turns all his attention on the Father. Up till then he had been discussing things with the disciples. The whole section is a high-water mark of the revelation of the Trinity, but in chapter 17 it’s just him and the Father, whom he addresses directly.
The last time he calls the Father “Father,” he says “Just Father” or “Righteous Father.” (Pater dikaie). That’s the same biblical language as in Paul’s discussions of righteousness. The context of “the night he was betrayed” is probably important, in the way you are suggesting, that in the midst of suffering, he calls the Father just.
Kathy: The same steadfast love, to some quite paradoxical, is found in the Synoptics when in the Garden Jesus pleads to be spared the bitter cup while addressing the plea to God as “Abba, Father.” And in Luke’s version, his final words are, “Father, into your hands I entrust my spirit.”
Ann: I am not sure what would be “entirely satisfactory” as a reply to your questions. Certainly in this life we will never receive a satisfactory answer. About the most we can hope to do is to remove certain false solutions, or exclude ways of posing the issues that do away with the mystery from the beginning (e.g., that God is either not all-good or all-wise or all-powerful). Jesus himself asked “Why?” on the cross, before that final self-surrender. And St. Paul, after struggling with the mystery of divine election and reprobation, can himself only utter a Job-like surrender: “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God! How incomprehensble are his judgments, and how unsearchable his ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his adviser? Or who has first given to him so that he should receive reward? For of him and by him and in him are all things. To him be glory for ever. Amen” (Rm 11:33-36).
Job, chapter 19 is a litany of bitter complaint. Job says that God has wronged him:
If indeed you would exalt yourselves above me
and use my humiliation against me,
6 then know that God has wronged me
and drawn his net around me.
7 “Though I cry, ‘Violence!’ I get no response;
though I call for help, there is no justice.
8 He has blocked my way so I cannot pass;
he has shrouded my paths in darkness.
9 He has stripped me of my honor
and removed the crown from my head.
10 He tears me down on every side till I am gone;
he uproots my hope like a tree.
11 His anger burns against me;
he counts me among his enemies.
12 His troops advance in force;
they build a siege ramp against me
and encamp around my tent.
And then right in the middle is a statement of faith, which is now part of the final moments of the funeral liturgy, because it speaks so strongly of the personal resurrection:
I know that my redeemer lives,
and that in the end he will stand on the earth.
26 And after my skin has been destroyed,
yet in my flesh I will see God;
27 I myself will see him
with my own eyes—I, and not another.
How my heart yearns within me!
Thank you Anne, Kathy, and Fr. K. Your reflections are appreciated. I’ve felt as though I’ve stood in line right after Job, and found it quite unsatisfactory to be told to shut up, I’m not God.
There is an ego level of reality that takes off from all the rational, loving, understandable, just stances we assume; very reasonable, logical questions with truly no meaningful answers.
Going to the depth or soul level of reality, that seems must start with surrender, is the harder stance. How to stay there for more than moments at a time?
Gerard Manley Hopkins’ terrible sonnets also take the edge off for me. Finding psalms, etc. that indicate understanding of the struggle are powerful. In the end, I hope I will want to shut up, as all questions stop in His presence.
Meanwhile, in the vernacular, wasn’t the Son treated pretty miserably? There’s a slight humorous smile that does translate on the page, as I say this.