Greek hesuchia. John Climacus (late 16th century), in his book The Ladder of Divine Ascent, writes: The beginning of hesuchia is to throw off all noise as disturbing for the depth of the soul. And the end of it is not to fear disturbances and to remain insusceptible to them.” Surely, earplugs could successfully cut off external noises! What Climacus must have meant by becoming insusceptible to them was to cultivate stillness of the mind. Much earlier, Plutarch had observed: “We learn speech from men; silence from the Gods.” You can avoid speech, but true silence has to be cultivated.
The Sufi Abu Yazid Al-Bistani (9th century) once said: “No lamp I saw brighter than silence; no speech I heard better than speechlessness.”
These savants were concerned with the mystic value of silence. Not being a mystic, I can only command the virtues of silence in worldly affairs. Besides recharging one’s inner batteries, it has many other uses. It can be the decisive winner in an angry dialogue.
Chesterton called it “the unbearable repartee”; Bernard Shaw described it as “the most perfect expression of scorn”. As still waters run deep, so does a man of silence conceal what he has within him. It is truly said, “Beware of a man who does not talk and of a dog that does not bark.”
8/4/1987
The Power of Prayer
L ast month, many parts of Bangladesh were stricken with drought. Rains were long overdue and the transplanted paddy seedlings had begun to wither. It was clear that if rains did not come the season’s rice crop would be lost and Bangladesh would once again be faced with the prospect of famine. As a desperate last measure, President Ershad called on his people to pray to Allah to send them rain. In Dhaka, he along with 50,000 others, said the Nimaz-e-Istisqa, a special prayer asking for Allah’s bounty. Ten hours later there was heavy rainfall all over the country. The devout felt reassured that Allah never lets the prayers of the faithful go unanswered.
A week later Bangladesh was struck by a cyclone which took a heavy toll of life: over 10,000 people perished and many more were rendered homeless. What did the devout have to say to the affliction visited on them by the same Allah who had answered their prayers a few days earlier?
All religions believe that God rewards the good and punishes the wicked. He is Daata, the Giver, Anna-daata, the Provider of Food, Vad-daata, the Most Bountiful. The Judaic family of religions (Judasim, Christianity and Islam) also believe that God can become angry and visit his wrath upon people he wants to punish. The vengeful aspect of God is not as clearly defined in the Hindic family of religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism). When sin and vice become too rampant, He sends an avatar – a reincarnation – to punish wrongdoers, restore righteousness and bring the people back to the path of dharma. But as far as the day to day lives of the people are concerned, He does not seem to care very much whether the good are rewarded or sinners punished in their lifetimes. He is the Vadda Beparwah – the Great Unconcerned. He could not care less. In his Lothair, Benjamin Disraeli wrote: “I am not clear we ought to pray at all, either in public or private. It seems very arrogant in us to dictate to an all-wise Creator what we desire.”
One might well ask, what then is achieved by praying to God? Should we thank Him if our prayers are answered and curse Him if they are not? Is prayer any different from flattery of the big boss? Those who treat prayer as a kind of saudeybaazi – a commercial transaction – are usually disillusioned and turn hostile to God and religion. I know of at least two Sikh families which turned dramatically from being extremely orthodox to atheism. In one, every member of the family said all the five prescribed daily prayers ( nit neym ) as well as read the Granth Sahib for an hour or two. They had akhand paaths – nonstop reading of the Granth
The Sufi Abu Yazid Al-Bistani (9th century) once said: “No lamp I saw brighter than silence; no speech I heard better than speechlessness.”
These savants were concerned with the mystic value of silence. Not being a mystic, I can only command the virtues of silence in worldly affairs. Besides recharging one’s inner batteries, it has many other uses. It can be the decisive winner in an angry dialogue.
Chesterton called it “the unbearable repartee”; Bernard Shaw described it as “the most perfect expression of scorn”. As still waters run deep, so does a man of silence conceal what he has within him. It is truly said, “Beware of a man who does not talk and of a dog that does not bark.”
8/4/1987
The Power of Prayer
L ast month, many parts of Bangladesh were stricken with drought. Rains were long overdue and the transplanted paddy seedlings had begun to wither. It was clear that if rains did not come the season’s rice crop would be lost and Bangladesh would once again be faced with the prospect of famine. As a desperate last measure, President Ershad called on his people to pray to Allah to send them rain. In Dhaka, he along with 50,000 others, said the Nimaz-e-Istisqa, a special prayer asking for Allah’s bounty. Ten hours later there was heavy rainfall all over the country. The devout felt reassured that Allah never lets the prayers of the faithful go unanswered.
A week later Bangladesh was struck by a cyclone which took a heavy toll of life: over 10,000 people perished and many more were rendered homeless. What did the devout have to say to the affliction visited on them by the same Allah who had answered their prayers a few days earlier?
All religions believe that God rewards the good and punishes the wicked. He is Daata, the Giver, Anna-daata, the Provider of Food, Vad-daata, the Most Bountiful. The Judaic family of religions (Judasim, Christianity and Islam) also believe that God can become angry and visit his wrath upon people he wants to punish. The vengeful aspect of God is not as clearly defined in the Hindic family of religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism). When sin and vice become too rampant, He sends an avatar – a reincarnation – to punish wrongdoers, restore righteousness and bring the people back to the path of dharma. But as far as the day to day lives of the people are concerned, He does not seem to care very much whether the good are rewarded or sinners punished in their lifetimes. He is the Vadda Beparwah – the Great Unconcerned. He could not care less. In his Lothair, Benjamin Disraeli wrote: “I am not clear we ought to pray at all, either in public or private. It seems very arrogant in us to dictate to an all-wise Creator what we desire.”
One might well ask, what then is achieved by praying to God? Should we thank Him if our prayers are answered and curse Him if they are not? Is prayer any different from flattery of the big boss? Those who treat prayer as a kind of saudeybaazi – a commercial transaction – are usually disillusioned and turn hostile to God and religion. I know of at least two Sikh families which turned dramatically from being extremely orthodox to atheism. In one, every member of the family said all the five prescribed daily prayers ( nit neym ) as well as read the Granth Sahib for an hour or two. They had akhand paaths – nonstop reading of the Granth
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