Abstract
Over the last few years there has been renewed interest in the spiritual practices of silence. Sara Maitland’s A Book of Silence (2008) stands out as one example; Maggie Ross’ Silence: A User’s Guide (2011) is another. Diarmaid MacCulloch’s Silence: A Christian History (2013) suggested the sheer complexity of this phenomenon when considered historically: silence can allow the space for creativity and depth, as well as reveal itself as a sign that something is hidden that needs to be brought out into the open.
Alison Woolley’s investigation of silence in the spiritual practices of women comes as a welcome and important addition to this literature. With MacCulloch, she addresses the complex ways in which silence is made manifest. That she is an advocate for finding new ways of engaging with it in a noisy age is attested to from the very first chapter when she uses as an epigraph Kierkegaard’s comment on the radical potential of silence for the troubles of his age: ‘The present state of the world and the whole of life is diseased. If I were a doctor and asked for my advice, I should reply: Create silence!’ (p. 1).
Woolley begins by mapping the troubled status of silence for feminists. The phenomenon of being silenced is considered alongside the feminist concern to ‘hear women into speech’ (itself a central aim of this journal). But Woolley’s emphasis is with the possibilities of silence for a deeper engagement with life, and so, with Rachel Muers, she accepts that if we do not pay attention to silence, we will not be able to end the role silence plays in the structures of oppression (p. 8), but she also argues that neither will we be able to consider the richness it might bring to our experience of being human.
What makes Woolley’s approach to this theme distinctive is her use of empirical investigation. The majority of the book consists of reflections on and analysis of the interviews she conducts with 20 Christian women. It is this aspect of her work that brings to life the possibilities of a spiritual practice that deliberately cultivates the silence that opens up space for a deeper relationship with the divine. What makes Woolley’s book such a delightful read is the way in which she reports their words. Set out like pieces of poetry, she is at pains to replicate the silences in the women’s speech; to give voice (if this is not too dissonant a phrase) to the silences that open up in communication and that are vital if we are to pay attention to them. As you read what the women say, you cannot help but think about the role of silence in one’s own practice, and, crucially, whether you might not like to join those who are making it such an important part of their daily lives. I am not so sure that her reflections would be as effective as they are were it not for the way in which she sets out the words of those she has interviewed.
If silence suggests solitude, it is interesting that Woolley makes the theme of relationality of central importance to her discussion. Relationality is understood in relation to self and the divine, and that sounds like something most would probably anticipate. More surprising, perhaps, is the way it relates to relationship with others. Being silent with others opens up the possibility of deeper relationships (see p. 203). Silence acts as a leveller, stripping away the distinctions between individuals, and also as a means of experiencing the interdependence between people.
The other fascinating aspect of Woolley’s study is the discussion of God’s absence within silence (see p. 143). This experience emerged as a counterbalance to those who felt they had come closer to the divine through their cultivation of a silent space. The example of Una, a woman in her early 80s who had experienced over 30 years of God’s absence, yet who still practised her silence discipline was disturbing, but also thought provoking. ‘I will have to live as if there was God’ (p. 145), she notes. That this was not a distressing conclusion suggested something important about the expectations we might have from silence practice, and Woolley connects these reflections to a discussion of ‘the dark night of the soul’, deemed by the mystics to be necessary for a deeper relationship with God. This gives an idea of just how challenging Woolley’s work is, for to enter into the silence requires entering the world of apophatic theology too.
This is, then, a powerful, comprehensive investigation of silence, that draws you in and which acts to prompt further thought about the nature of spiritual practice, as well as the importance of carving out a space for silence in an increasingly noisy world. This is an important book for all seeking a deeper form of spiritual practice, as well as for those interested in the way in which women shape their spiritual practice.