Steps nine, ten and eleven also tie together. In his ninth step, St. Benedict asks that a monk controls his tongue and remains silent, not speaking unless asked a question.[1] Simply put, the monk is asked to learn the value of silence. In our day, as in St. Benedict’s, noise is a problem. Granted St. Benedict did not have computers, cell phones, voice messaging, TV, radio, etc., that are part of our 21st century life. He did, however, have the interior noise that we too struggle with: making the list of things we need to do yet, re-hashing the encounter with another member of the community, murmuring, etc.
The tenth step continues the thought: that he is not given to ready laughter.[2] St. Benedict is not saying that laughter is bad, but laughter at someone else’s expense is not charitable. Similarly, crude jests that bring laughter are not becoming to anyone, much lest to the holy state to which monks and nuns profess.
St. Benedict wraps this train of thought up with the eleventh step: that a monk speaks gently and without laughter, seriously and with becoming modesty, briefly and reasonably.[3] St. Benedict truly understood the value of a good listener. Someone with whom you could share what was laying heavily on your heart knowing that they would really listen to your words and not be thinking of what they want to say next. Someone who listens with that open ear and is able to speak those words that you sort of knew all along but needed someone else to confirm. Someone who would not give you a homily (unless, of course, you really needed it!), yet affirm or challenge you in the ways you need to continue to grow.
We need to learn how to be silent in our heart so that we can hear the voice of Lord speaking softly those words we so long to hear. We can escape to the desert, but we will not escape the noise until we learn how to turn off the interior conversations so that we can truly listen.
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