Embracing stillness

I find myself roaming in one of these trendy shopping centres replacing our village squares, where individuals were once conscious of being part of a greater whole. People rush dreamily here and there, preoccupied with themselves but little else besides. Limnos emerges: the dream island where Hypnos had his cave, poppies decorating its entrance. Watered by Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, day and night are indistinguishable. His brother Thanatos (Death) watches on as their parents, Nyx (Night) and Erebus (Darkness), extend their shadowy presence. 

Emporiums, carols trumpet, but the king is ignored as images of Christmas Father replace him. Solitary, moving statues, lacking dialogue, ignore each other because the latter presumes an existing relationship, surpassing one-night stands. Every relationship aspiring to intimacy is contemplative, which exhibits a willingness to listen. This envisaged silentium is expressive of ‘committed love’ (Agape), which, having surpassed the fear of rejection, permits us to expose our hearts assuredly. We are thus reminded that beyond the puffing, silence underlines our need to love and be loved. 

Heedless words dim our insights; they ignore our need to be still. They express an unspoken fear hindering us from deepening our love: discipleship is not immune, because we need to rest and appreciate our commitment to the Magister:  “Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, ‘Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest’” (Mark 6,31). 

The inability to be still beside the Magister hinders our self-understanding, notwithstanding the emphasis on our presumed “mighty works in your name”, but “I never knew you, depart from me, you workers of lawlessness” (Matthew 7,21-23). A surrounding void blinds us because the Magister is but an excuse to impose ourselves. 

Listening agencies, witnessing a growing psychological stress escalation, mushroom. An enveloping listen-less darkness sustains them. People pay good money for a good confession! If there is an answer to this ‘Catch-22’ experience, it lies elsewhere. It resides in immediate human contact, focused on the Magister. This is easier said than done. Once something is lost, it is much harder to regain; sometimes, even recognising it proves impossible. 

As shopping centres transform our landscapes, and day-dreaming replace our commitment, Hypnos consolidates his reign. Stillness is not superfluous: its presence defines our connection to the Magister. Resistance accompanies as superfluous words, organs, or guitars replace the Tabernacle’s stillness. 


Martin   


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