Listening to the Sound of Silence

It's been about a month and a half since the last post on this blog, so I thought it would be fitting--though perhaps a bit self-serving--to start posting again with a piece on the topic of silence. The role of silence, or lack thereof, in our social interactions has always been a topic of interest to me. While it is by no means a purely scientific assertion and contains a number of generalizations, the Wikipedia entry on silence contains the following interesting statement:

Most people find silence uncomfortable, and to the extreme, unbearable. In modern society, especially in the western society, when people are meeting and talking to each other, people often start talking nonsense to skip moments of silence. People seem to have the same feeling all over the world, - however silence seems to be much more appreciated in the eastern world. . . .

I can definitely relate to the potential discomfort of silences in conversation, but have been thinking a lot about its important function, both in allowing the participants the space to express themselves, and in allowing for contemplation and reflection amidst a dialogue. In this light I found the following passage from 'Abdu'l-Baha thought provoking:

Bahá'u'lláh says there is a sign (from God) in every phenomenon: the sign of the intellect is contemplation and the sign of contemplation is silence, because it is impossible for a man to do two things at one time -- he cannot both speak and meditate.

In many ways, it seems like silence can be an active force in our daily interactions, indeed Bahá'u'lláh exhorts us to "observe silence and refrain from idle talk," a phrase that to me, implies something different than refraining from speaking, but suggests taking our time, trying to find and communicate the deeper meaning in any situation or interaction, and observing the active forces at work in the midst of silence.

In this context it is interesting to consider the following passage from the book, Portals to Freedom, written by Howard Colbey Ives. In it, Mr. Ives, who was then a Christian minister, describes an encounter he had with 'Abdu'l-Baha, in which silence plays a profound role:

I asked Abdu'l-Bahá one day: "Why should I believe in Bahá'u'lláh?"

He looked long and searchingly as it seemed into my very soul. The silence deepened. He did not answer. In that silence I had time to consider why I had asked the question, and dimly I began to see that only I myself could supply the reason. After all, why should I believe in anyone or anything except as a means, an incentive, a dynamic for the securing of a fuller, deeper, more perfect life? Does the cabinet-maker's apprentice ask himself why he should believe in the master wood-worker? He wants to know how to make these raw materials into things of beauty and usefulness. He must believe in anyone who can show him how to do that, providing he first has faith in his own capacity. I had the stuff of life. Was Bahá'u'lláh the Master Workman? If He were I knew that I would follow, even though through blood and tears. But how could I know?

I wondered why Abdu'l-Bahá kept silence so long. Yet was it silence? That stillness held more than words. At last He spoke. He said that the work of a Christian minister is most important. When you preach, or pray, or teach your people your heart must be filled with love for them and love for God. And you must be sincere,--very sincere.

He spoke in Persian, the interpreter translating fluently and beautifully. But no one could interpret that Divine Voice. He spoke, indeed, as never mere man spake. One listened entranced and understood inwardly even before the interpreter opened his mouth. It was as though the English skimmed the surface: the voice, the eyes, the smile of Abdu'l-Bahá taught the heart to probe the depths.

What, dear readers, have you learned from your encounters with silence?