Richard Beck:
0:00
There is going to be a real rush to get back to normal. And the lessons that we're gathering during this season are going to be quickly forgotten. And so I think that is something for the artists to do. That is something for us to do collectively is to remember what we're learning right now and I just kind of go back to that Old Testament idea of memory and that being such a moral resource for us. And so to me, what we need to be doing right now is capturing the experience.
Rina Atienza:
0:37
There's a fire, there's a flood, much will be lost, much will be found. What should we file? What do we keep? What must we remember when we wake from this sleep? Welcome to Noah's Arkhive podcast, apocalyptic memories for the new future. Episode Four, the silent memory.
Walter Thiessen:
1:10
This is a poem by Pablo Neruda and it was a poem that just happened to come up as a memory on someone's Facebook feed right in the middle of the isolation, and it seemed very fitting, it's called keeping quiet. 'Now, we will count to 12. And we will all keep still, for once on the face of the earth. Let's not speak in any language, let's stop for a second and not move our arms so much. It would be an exotic moment without rush, without engines, we would all be together in a sudden strangeness. Fishermen in the cold sea would not harm whales, and the man gathering salt would not look at his hurt hands. Those who prepare green wars, wars with gas, wars with fire, victories with no survivors, would put on clean clothes and walk about with their brothers in the shade, doing nothing. What I want should not be confused with total inactivity. Life is what it is about. I want no truck with death. If we were not so single minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt the sadness, of never understanding ourselves and of threatening ourselves with death. Perhaps the earth can teach us as when everything seems dead, and later proves to be alive. Now, I'll count up to 12. And you keep quiet, and I will go."
Paul Milbank:
2:56
So I suppose one of the things that drives our race to more efficiency, more speed is our fear that if we withdraw, that somehow we're going to miss out or that the system won't function properly without us or that we'll somehow get behind. And so this kind of forced withdrawal is an interesting moment. I wonder if anybody has any thoughts on, I suppose I'm asking about contemplation and how contemplation fits with better participation in the sort of systems and lives that we operate in normally.
Cathy Morling:
3:45
Can I share that I had, just before this all kind of kicked off or lockdowns were really happening, I had the privilege of going on a retreat. I went to Lee Abbey and Nick Page was leading a week about paying attention. And I had this glorious week of just loving this sort of idea of leaning towards that our devotion is what we pay attention to how we how we pray, is this leaning in and how can we pray without ceasing? Well, we just pay attention and whether that's in nature, whether it's to others, whether it's to ourselves, whether it's to the Bible. And had a glorious time, I thought well, it's going to be quite a crash coming back, isn't it and yet, what I give thanks for is that actually I feel this is a season of paying attention, as you said Ian about the small things, the stopping the listening to the robin sing his heart out in the tree, and just stop and have no agenda other than to just delight. So I'm just so grateful in this season, that paying attention is going to be something that I can continue to practice easily and with great joy.
Sarah Woolsey:
5:03
So to build on what some others were saying, I had someone in my life who wrote about and used the term that this is kind of like an unexpected fast. And I've just been dwelling on that idea a lot that it really is. There's something I felt, you know, outside of all the pain and suffering, but just a gratitude for it like this deep restoration in my soul that like needed to slow down but didn't have the discipline to do it myself. And so kind of having this fasting season, it's been a little bit imposed but has been deeply restorative. And for us on the day to day, I'm so thankful that we found ourselves in a season of learning to be a family of four, when we wouldn't have slowed down and taken that time in the same way. My two year old - just it's neat to see her coming out and I think we needed life to not be 'here to there to there', but just kind of seeing that manifest and how we interact with the kids. But that phrase of an unexpected fast has been one that has been really helpful and I'm very grateful for that.
Rhian Johns:
6:15
Weeks ago, when we were just thinking about this fact that you know, when when somebody becomes a nun or a monk that they withdraw. And there's something about their withdrawal from their previous life that kind of enables them to grow something within themselves. And this kind of thought that as they set themselves apart from those who they love, that they do that in order to love more and to love deeper. And in their silence, the silence allows them to be more powerful and more impactful in the words that they do speak. And I guess that sort of got me to thinking really about this this lockdown situation and being almost like a kind of a mini withdrawal and what that might mean for myself around what that can grow within me, but also what that might sort of grow within us as a society. How can we become more loving? How can we love more? What does this mean for both now, but also for the future that we collectively build? How can we use this time of withdrawal to ensure that the words that we speak are considered and powerful? How can we action that deep love to transform society? What does a transformed society look like? And how will we use our voice to speak up for those whose voice is otherwise unheard? And I guess that's the challenge that I'm grappling with.
Walter Thiessen:
8:07
For me, one of the reveali ngs of this moment is that we have a pause button on a really massive global scale. And before this, who knew that we had that kind of pause button? And I I think that's going to change especially the generation that grows up knowing that, from a young age that that's possible. And I think the reason that that's crucial is that knowing there's that kind of ability means that we have the ability to be critical appraisers of technology and critical appraisers of big economic questions in a way that we often give up on way too early before. But i'd also connected with that transcendency question that people have talked about. Sometimes when we talk transcendently we don't think it's actually going to affect the the massive, inexorable movement of the economy and everything else that that's just going to keep happening, regardless of our talk about transcendency and now we know that maybe transcendent ideas talk can interrupt those material realities as well.
Sarah Woolsey:
9:20
I think it's something around just, so I'm a three on the enneagram and it's normally very hard for me to sit still and not be producing and so there's a lot about just learning to be present and be selective about when to move and when to engage and when to be still and be listening.
Vanessa Chamberlin:
9:46
At the start of the UK lockdown, I watched Zeffirelli's 1972 film about the life of Saint Francis - Brother Sun, Sister Moon. In it we witness two strikingly different kinds of disrobing. Firstly, we see the young son Francis appaulled by the horrors of war and disillusioned with Church and State, joyfully stripping naked before his whole community and handing the carefully folded fine robes to the bishop. There is no lament. Forsaking his life of privilege, we witnessed his freedom surface with each layer removed and so begins his life of poverty and simplicity. Secondly, towards the end of the film, we encounter the remarkable Alec Guiness who quietly steals the show in his portrayel of Pope Innocenct the Third, giving an audience to Francis and his brothers who are seeking recognition of their order. The men walk barefoot into the Pope's opulent palace, which is lined with scowling bishops and flamboyantly dressed Cardinals. And all are amazed, particularly Francis as the pope extracts himself from his jewel encrusted robe and Papal mitre and begins the long descent down, down, down the steps, so masterfully captured by Zeffirelli, to bless and commission Francis who Innocent says puts us to shame. And then the horror as he looks into Francis's eyes and feels compelled to descend further down, down, down onto his knees to kiss the dirty feet of the young friar, in whom he sees the joy he once gave his life for. When we think of the wonderful verse in Psalm 46, 'be still and know that I am God', we probably did not think of stripping naked or bending down and to kiss dirty feet. In the midst of lockdown, we more likely think of the 20 minute break we might get from the kids after lunch or we dream of the retreat in Wales, so we've had to delay until next year, but this instruction to be still does not require taking time out. It appears in the midst of destruction and chaos, the nations rage and kingdoms move and as we witnessed the lords making desolations in the earth, we are commanded to 'be still and know that I am God'. And we grown oh no that terrible destructive God again. But no this Lord is annihilating destruction itself. He is destroying the weapons of war breaking the bow and cutting the spear into making wars cease to the ends of the earth. This Lord's love may feel like violence because it destroys the murderous things we rely on for security. But this Lord of hosts the God of Jacob, deceitful self seeking Jacob, provides according to the Psalm true security. This Lord wants to be our refuge and strength. The imperative in verse 10 Be still, it's from the verb Rafa, it has the same root as the word Pharaoh uses to dismiss the Israelites' plea to go and sacrifice to their God. He calls them lazy, and in light of their failure to serve the Gods of Egypt ,they are. Rafa can mean to sink down, to let alone, to forsake, to wait, to refrain, to be still. In this case, I like the longer translation let yourself become weak. Francis, captivated by beauty does so eagerly. Guinness' Pope does so with great intention as he gracefully descends the steps aware of the power in his gesture of humanity. But this power is horrified when it looks into the eyes of the young Francis and knows it must become weak and kiss his feet. And it feels like the world as we've known it, together with the gods we've sought refuge in has been pushed down the steps by the spread of a virus we as yet to have little control over. Much of our power has been exposed as weakness. And perhaps we too have kissed the feet of truth. In Zeffirelli's film, Guiness' Pope gets up and is quickly surrounded by his Cardinals who redress him in splendour and walk him back up the steps. We wonder if the horror he encountered, his letting himself be weak, his surrendering to beauty will make any difference. Just as we wander now, as a humbled and only increasingly exposed world order, tries to recover its robes and return to normal. In Hebrew, the emphasis is on the second of two imperatives. So when we are told to 'be still and know', the command to 'know' is the weightier one. This verb yada is a deeply intimate kind of knowing, one used to mean sex at various points in the Bible. We have been forcibly stilled made weak, which allows us to 'know' and it is this knowing that will determine the outcome of these brutal, beautiful weeks, months and years ahead. What do we choose to know? Who do we choose to be intimate with? It makes me think of Jesus, stooping down to write on the ground as the accusers stand, weapons in hand, ready to stone the terrified woman in John 8. He too is lazy before their legalistic questioning, he is still and that stillness breaks their focus on the other sin. It loosens their grasp of their ordering of the world and makes them instead curious to know what this strange man will say next. I want to be eager to know and I want the world to be curious to know. And therefore I must take off my disabling robes and must be still.
Richard Beck:
14:55
Remember the birdsong but mostly the hush that allowed you to catch it. How the hum of your mind was still like a smooth surface of water holding the heavens. And when the ever present engines were quieted for a season, just the breeze, the sway of a flower and the melody. And how you recalled that this lullaby wasn't new, that it forever sings and soothes, beckoning beneath the cacophony and the hurry. Remember how you touched the trees, stood barefoot on the grass, lifted your face to the sun and felt the gentle heartthrob of the Lord The tender soft, pulsing capillary action of love rivering through all things.
Elysia Willis:
16:00
This episode has been created by the conversational and contemplative contributions of Richard Beck. Rina Atienza, Walter Thiessen, Paul Milbank, Cathy Morling, Sarah, Woolsey, Rhian Johns and Vanessa Chamberlin. As always, a special thanks to David Benjamin Blower for weaving his audio wizardry into this podcast. And finally, we'll leave you with a musical piece created by Andreaz Heden, entitled Silence. Here's Andreaz to tell us more.
Andreaz Heden:
16:37
The Estonian composer, Arvo Prt, described in an interview earlier this year, the present time of the pandemic as a mega fast for the whole earth. And he drew attention to the practice of self restraint. Both like on a personal and practical level, but also in the world of Arts. And in many ways, the music and Arts has been silenced in our cultures, it's like someone has pushed the pause button. So the question is, what do we do now? Maybe it's not all bad, though. What if some part of our problem is that we have created a world overloaded with too much unnecessary information. Maybe some of us are a bit afraid of the silence. And if so we can use music and like entertainment or whatever like a distraction from facing our deeper self. We need music because we can't stand the silence. And then music becomes a noise standing in the way between us and the silence between us and ourselves or even between us and God Himself. But music can also invite us into silence, to slow down, be still, to pay attention and become good listeners. This is what I try to do in my piece Silence. It's an invitation to stop time, be still, and listen carefully for the sounds of silence.
0:00
There is going to be a real rush to get back to normal. And the lessons that we're gathering during this season are going to be quickly forgotten. And so I think that is something for the artists to do. That is something for us to do collectively is to remember what we're learning right now and I just kind of go back to that Old Testament idea of memory and that being such a moral resource for us. And so to me, what we need to be doing right now is capturing the experience.
Rina Atienza:
0:37
There's a fire, there's a flood, much will be lost, much will be found. What should we file? What do we keep? What must we remember when we wake from this sleep? Welcome to Noah's Arkhive podcast, apocalyptic memories for the new future. Episode Four, the silent memory.
Walter Thiessen:
1:10
This is a poem by Pablo Neruda and it was a poem that just happened to come up as a memory on someone's Facebook feed right in the middle of the isolation, and it seemed very fitting, it's called keeping quiet. 'Now, we will count to 12. And we will all keep still, for once on the face of the earth. Let's not speak in any language, let's stop for a second and not move our arms so much. It would be an exotic moment without rush, without engines, we would all be together in a sudden strangeness. Fishermen in the cold sea would not harm whales, and the man gathering salt would not look at his hurt hands. Those who prepare green wars, wars with gas, wars with fire, victories with no survivors, would put on clean clothes and walk about with their brothers in the shade, doing nothing. What I want should not be confused with total inactivity. Life is what it is about. I want no truck with death. If we were not so single minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt the sadness, of never understanding ourselves and of threatening ourselves with death. Perhaps the earth can teach us as when everything seems dead, and later proves to be alive. Now, I'll count up to 12. And you keep quiet, and I will go."
Paul Milbank:
2:56
So I suppose one of the things that drives our race to more efficiency, more speed is our fear that if we withdraw, that somehow we're going to miss out or that the system won't function properly without us or that we'll somehow get behind. And so this kind of forced withdrawal is an interesting moment. I wonder if anybody has any thoughts on, I suppose I'm asking about contemplation and how contemplation fits with better participation in the sort of systems and lives that we operate in normally.
Cathy Morling:
3:45
Can I share that I had, just before this all kind of kicked off or lockdowns were really happening, I had the privilege of going on a retreat. I went to Lee Abbey and Nick Page was leading a week about paying attention. And I had this glorious week of just loving this sort of idea of leaning towards that our devotion is what we pay attention to how we how we pray, is this leaning in and how can we pray without ceasing? Well, we just pay attention and whether that's in nature, whether it's to others, whether it's to ourselves, whether it's to the Bible. And had a glorious time, I thought well, it's going to be quite a crash coming back, isn't it and yet, what I give thanks for is that actually I feel this is a season of paying attention, as you said Ian about the small things, the stopping the listening to the robin sing his heart out in the tree, and just stop and have no agenda other than to just delight. So I'm just so grateful in this season, that paying attention is going to be something that I can continue to practice easily and with great joy.
Sarah Woolsey:
5:03
So to build on what some others were saying, I had someone in my life who wrote about and used the term that this is kind of like an unexpected fast. And I've just been dwelling on that idea a lot that it really is. There's something I felt, you know, outside of all the pain and suffering, but just a gratitude for it like this deep restoration in my soul that like needed to slow down but didn't have the discipline to do it myself. And so kind of having this fasting season, it's been a little bit imposed but has been deeply restorative. And for us on the day to day, I'm so thankful that we found ourselves in a season of learning to be a family of four, when we wouldn't have slowed down and taken that time in the same way. My two year old - just it's neat to see her coming out and I think we needed life to not be 'here to there to there', but just kind of seeing that manifest and how we interact with the kids. But that phrase of an unexpected fast has been one that has been really helpful and I'm very grateful for that.
Rhian Johns:
6:15
Weeks ago, when we were just thinking about this fact that you know, when when somebody becomes a nun or a monk that they withdraw. And there's something about their withdrawal from their previous life that kind of enables them to grow something within themselves. And this kind of thought that as they set themselves apart from those who they love, that they do that in order to love more and to love deeper. And in their silence, the silence allows them to be more powerful and more impactful in the words that they do speak. And I guess that sort of got me to thinking really about this this lockdown situation and being almost like a kind of a mini withdrawal and what that might mean for myself around what that can grow within me, but also what that might sort of grow within us as a society. How can we become more loving? How can we love more? What does this mean for both now, but also for the future that we collectively build? How can we use this time of withdrawal to ensure that the words that we speak are considered and powerful? How can we action that deep love to transform society? What does a transformed society look like? And how will we use our voice to speak up for those whose voice is otherwise unheard? And I guess that's the challenge that I'm grappling with.
Walter Thiessen:
8:07
For me, one of the reveali ngs of this moment is that we have a pause button on a really massive global scale. And before this, who knew that we had that kind of pause button? And I I think that's going to change especially the generation that grows up knowing that, from a young age that that's possible. And I think the reason that that's crucial is that knowing there's that kind of ability means that we have the ability to be critical appraisers of technology and critical appraisers of big economic questions in a way that we often give up on way too early before. But i'd also connected with that transcendency question that people have talked about. Sometimes when we talk transcendently we don't think it's actually going to affect the the massive, inexorable movement of the economy and everything else that that's just going to keep happening, regardless of our talk about transcendency and now we know that maybe transcendent ideas talk can interrupt those material realities as well.
Sarah Woolsey:
9:20
I think it's something around just, so I'm a three on the enneagram and it's normally very hard for me to sit still and not be producing and so there's a lot about just learning to be present and be selective about when to move and when to engage and when to be still and be listening.
Vanessa Chamberlin:
9:46
At the start of the UK lockdown, I watched Zeffirelli's 1972 film about the life of Saint Francis - Brother Sun, Sister Moon. In it we witness two strikingly different kinds of disrobing. Firstly, we see the young son Francis appaulled by the horrors of war and disillusioned with Church and State, joyfully stripping naked before his whole community and handing the carefully folded fine robes to the bishop. There is no lament. Forsaking his life of privilege, we witnessed his freedom surface with each layer removed and so begins his life of poverty and simplicity. Secondly, towards the end of the film, we encounter the remarkable Alec Guiness who quietly steals the show in his portrayel of Pope Innocenct the Third, giving an audience to Francis and his brothers who are seeking recognition of their order. The men walk barefoot into the Pope's opulent palace, which is lined with scowling bishops and flamboyantly dressed Cardinals. And all are amazed, particularly Francis as the pope extracts himself from his jewel encrusted robe and Papal mitre and begins the long descent down, down, down the steps, so masterfully captured by Zeffirelli, to bless and commission Francis who Innocent says puts us to shame. And then the horror as he looks into Francis's eyes and feels compelled to descend further down, down, down onto his knees to kiss the dirty feet of the young friar, in whom he sees the joy he once gave his life for. When we think of the wonderful verse in Psalm 46, 'be still and know that I am God', we probably did not think of stripping naked or bending down and to kiss dirty feet. In the midst of lockdown, we more likely think of the 20 minute break we might get from the kids after lunch or we dream of the retreat in Wales, so we've had to delay until next year, but this instruction to be still does not require taking time out. It appears in the midst of destruction and chaos, the nations rage and kingdoms move and as we witnessed the lords making desolations in the earth, we are commanded to 'be still and know that I am God'. And we grown oh no that terrible destructive God again. But no this Lord is annihilating destruction itself. He is destroying the weapons of war breaking the bow and cutting the spear into making wars cease to the ends of the earth. This Lord's love may feel like violence because it destroys the murderous things we rely on for security. But this Lord of hosts the God of Jacob, deceitful self seeking Jacob, provides according to the Psalm true security. This Lord wants to be our refuge and strength. The imperative in verse 10 Be still, it's from the verb Rafa, it has the same root as the word Pharaoh uses to dismiss the Israelites' plea to go and sacrifice to their God. He calls them lazy, and in light of their failure to serve the Gods of Egypt ,they are. Rafa can mean to sink down, to let alone, to forsake, to wait, to refrain, to be still. In this case, I like the longer translation let yourself become weak. Francis, captivated by beauty does so eagerly. Guinness' Pope does so with great intention as he gracefully descends the steps aware of the power in his gesture of humanity. But this power is horrified when it looks into the eyes of the young Francis and knows it must become weak and kiss his feet. And it feels like the world as we've known it, together with the gods we've sought refuge in has been pushed down the steps by the spread of a virus we as yet to have little control over. Much of our power has been exposed as weakness. And perhaps we too have kissed the feet of truth. In Zeffirelli's film, Guiness' Pope gets up and is quickly surrounded by his Cardinals who redress him in splendour and walk him back up the steps. We wonder if the horror he encountered, his letting himself be weak, his surrendering to beauty will make any difference. Just as we wander now, as a humbled and only increasingly exposed world order, tries to recover its robes and return to normal. In Hebrew, the emphasis is on the second of two imperatives. So when we are told to 'be still and know', the command to 'know' is the weightier one. This verb yada is a deeply intimate kind of knowing, one used to mean sex at various points in the Bible. We have been forcibly stilled made weak, which allows us to 'know' and it is this knowing that will determine the outcome of these brutal, beautiful weeks, months and years ahead. What do we choose to know? Who do we choose to be intimate with? It makes me think of Jesus, stooping down to write on the ground as the accusers stand, weapons in hand, ready to stone the terrified woman in John 8. He too is lazy before their legalistic questioning, he is still and that stillness breaks their focus on the other sin. It loosens their grasp of their ordering of the world and makes them instead curious to know what this strange man will say next. I want to be eager to know and I want the world to be curious to know. And therefore I must take off my disabling robes and must be still.
Richard Beck:
14:55
Remember the birdsong but mostly the hush that allowed you to catch it. How the hum of your mind was still like a smooth surface of water holding the heavens. And when the ever present engines were quieted for a season, just the breeze, the sway of a flower and the melody. And how you recalled that this lullaby wasn't new, that it forever sings and soothes, beckoning beneath the cacophony and the hurry. Remember how you touched the trees, stood barefoot on the grass, lifted your face to the sun and felt the gentle heartthrob of the Lord The tender soft, pulsing capillary action of love rivering through all things.
Elysia Willis:
16:00
This episode has been created by the conversational and contemplative contributions of Richard Beck. Rina Atienza, Walter Thiessen, Paul Milbank, Cathy Morling, Sarah, Woolsey, Rhian Johns and Vanessa Chamberlin. As always, a special thanks to David Benjamin Blower for weaving his audio wizardry into this podcast. And finally, we'll leave you with a musical piece created by Andreaz Heden, entitled Silence. Here's Andreaz to tell us more.
Andreaz Heden:
16:37
The Estonian composer, Arvo Prt, described in an interview earlier this year, the present time of the pandemic as a mega fast for the whole earth. And he drew attention to the practice of self restraint. Both like on a personal and practical level, but also in the world of Arts. And in many ways, the music and Arts has been silenced in our cultures, it's like someone has pushed the pause button. So the question is, what do we do now? Maybe it's not all bad, though. What if some part of our problem is that we have created a world overloaded with too much unnecessary information. Maybe some of us are a bit afraid of the silence. And if so we can use music and like entertainment or whatever like a distraction from facing our deeper self. We need music because we can't stand the silence. And then music becomes a noise standing in the way between us and the silence between us and ourselves or even between us and God Himself. But music can also invite us into silence, to slow down, be still, to pay attention and become good listeners. This is what I try to do in my piece Silence. It's an invitation to stop time, be still, and listen carefully for the sounds of silence.
