The ethics of silence...

It is as if there is a hidden glory radiating from each person which will reveal itself only to those who have been able to focus outward and wait in generosity, allowing their own hidden glory - hidden especially from themselves - to pour forth. Each person can realize this glory by relinquishing closely-held shibboleths to listen receptively to the silence, through the silence to the other. Even as the observing I/eye is elided, the glory pours through.

The ethics that issue from the work of silence are counter-cultural. The notion of relating to people with respect by creating a welcoming space where the often surprising truth of the other may unfold is often regarded with contempt by those who take their ethics from a Machiavellian perspective. For them, relating to others without trying to manipulate them is seen as weakness.

It is for this reason that leaders like Rowan William are often under attack from all sides. The ethics that issue from silence are kenotic, that is, they arise from a wellspring of silence that has manifested itself by pouring through those who have made themselves available to it. One reason history has a tendency to repeat itself is that there are so few leaders who understand the discernment of the need to wait to see what unfolds, to be inclusive, to not act. A leader who seeks his or her own self-interest and acts accordingly will inevitably be caught in the feedback loops that eventually generate division, violence, and abuse, while a kenotic leader can often be a catalyst for something entirely new to break in.

from: Maggie Ross: Ethics Issuing from Silence (III)

I want to examine this concept a little more clearly in future posts, but Maggie Ross's essay (which I'd encourage you to read in full if you've time) moves us into considering the counter-cultural nature of our faith in its contemplative dimension. We mustn't shy instinctively away from recognising this, saying, I'm not a punk or a protester, I can't be counter-cultural. There's a strong and respected line of exegesis that suggests that the main motive for Jesus' crucifixion, and for the later persecution of the early church, was precisely the counter-cultural nature of the Gospel.

In his excellent book Finding Sanctuary, Christopher Jamison OSB, Abbot of Worth, criticising the consumerist, market-driven society in which we in the UK live, traces it back to the initiatives of Margaret Thatcher's government of the 1980s. He says:

Twentieth-century Britain once had a raft of organisations such as trade unions and professional bodies, which dictated much of the pace of ordinary life. For example, trade unions protected people from long working hours for poor pay, and professional associations enabled doctors, lawyers and other professionals to regulate the way they worked. But by the 1980s British industry was falling behind commercially in the global economy, and it fell to the Thatcher government to tackle the problem. Their solution was to destroy or reduce the power of institutions such as trade unions. This would enable market forces to operate more freely and so force the British economy to modernise; the demands of the market would now dictate every aspect of life. This applied not only to the working classes but to the professional classes as well. Far from protecting people, the state now sought to maximise competition in order to ensure that market forces decided everything in the lives of its citizens. For example, the national institutions that provided water, gas and electricity were sold off to private companies, which cut costs while trying to meet the demands of the customer in new ways. Even the National Health Service had to create an 'internal market'.

This market economy led inevitably to the emergence of a consumerist approach to life, with the slogan: 'Let the customer decide.'... So British society now defines a person as a consumer...

In simple terms, the consumerist lifestyle forces people to work too hard in order to fulfil their consumer ambitions... Armed with this understanding, you can stand back from the culture and question it. You are a free person and you can choose how busy you want to be. Freely choosing to resist the urge to busy-ness is the frame of mind you need before you can take any steps towards finding sanctuary... (pp. 15-16)

Maggie Ross's phrase, "relating to others [by] trying to manipulate them" is precisely the consumerist way, manipulating the people into "engag[ing] in endless productive work in order to... fund endless consumption." (Jamison p.17)

It is only in emptying ourselves of this "endless consumption" that we are free to live by - live among - the ethics of silence. I am so moved by what Maggie Ross says of Rowan Williams in this context. We are so blessed by having an Archbishop who is a contemplative and an historian of spirituality rather than an ecclesiastical politician. In many ways he reminds me, especially in his 2002 Dimbleby Lecture, of William Temple - and that's no bad thing!

So why should we do what the government tells us? The structures and priorities of the market state alone will simply not deliver an answer to this question that isn't finally destructive of our liberty - because they deprive us of the resources we need to make decisions that are properly human decisions, bound up with past and future. We need to be able to talk about what we're related to that isn't just defined by the specific agenda of the moment. This presents religious traditions with enormous opportunities - and enormous responsibilities. Because we know that religious involvement in public life has not always been benign; but those of us who have religious faith have learned something of how to engage with the social orders of the modern world; and it is up to us to articulate with as much energy and imagination as we can our understanding of that larger story without which the most fundamental and challenging human questions won't even get asked, let alone answered.

Rowan Williams: The Richard Dimbleby Lecture 2002