Nothing to Say

I haven’t blogged for the last few days because I’ve had nothing to say. That is the luxury of blogging, as distinct from preaching or teaching. When the well of inspiration runs dry, one is under no obligation to try to find an alternative source of hydration. One can just go silent (which, as someone will probably want to point out, is an anagram of ‘listen’).

Maybe it is because I am a nun, or maybe just because I am ‘built’ that way, I think the most important thing any Christian blogger can do before sitting down at the keyboard is to pray. We are so busy filling our minds with information, we sometimes forget the need to digest it all and ask the Light of God to shine on the areas we don’t understand or, worse still, think we understand but don’t. Slow prayer, slow blogging: I am a fan of both. Much better to go quiet for a little than to find one has become entrapped in one’s own noise.

The Monastery and the Internet
(The video presentation I did for the Gott im Web Conference is still available here and will be as long as the bandwidth we bought holds out: it has been viewed by more than 250 people so far.)

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A Thought for Friday

I shall be spending much of today in London at various meetings. It will be all roar and rush and I’ll probably feel like the proverbial fish out of water. (The habit tends to attract some very odd types — the only people who don’t come anywhere near are usually wearing clerical collars!)

Is it possible to maintain an inner silence, a spirit of recollection, in such circumstances? My answer would be ‘yes’. Have all those years spent learning the discipline of silence perhaps begun to bear fruit? I now know that it is not exterior noise but the endless babble of interior thoughts and feelings that causes all the trouble. Cultivating interior silence isn’t easy, but I think it is necessary for both psychological and spiritual health.

This week scripture has been urging us to go out into the desert to seek Jesus. Today, however, romantic visions of a vast and starry sky, rock, sand and a luminous silence must give way to the reality of the modern desert, the urban landscape of concrete and steel, full of clamour and bustle. Is it possible to seek and find God here, among the fast-food outlets and the diesel fumes? Francis Thompson is not much read nowadays, but I cannot help recalling the concluding lines of his ‘Kingdom of God’:
. . . lo, Christ walking on the water
Not of Gennesareth, but Thames!

Today, wherever we are, is full of hope.

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