We are living in a time of generational disruption in the United States. In light of our current technological revolution, in the midst of great social distrust, in the shadows of profound political discord, there is much that Christianity has to offer. This can be a period of American life in which Christians make essential contributions to society, for the good of all. 

But if Christians are to offer anything worthwhile to our public life, we must attend to our inner life–to the kind of people we are and the kind of people we are becoming. We cannot offer what we do not have ourselves. 

As we assess this particular moment, we are led to issue an exhortation to Christians and the local congregations of which they are members to take up the practices of silence and solitude. Silence and solitude are essential practices for our day and the times in which we live. 

The dysfunctions and animosities of our public life are too often directing our action. We are caught in a vicious cycle of reactionary, mimetic antagonisms. Our public life is increasingly a forum for dehumanization. Rather than more deeply understanding one another, civic life has become a place of estrangement and resentment. The online and media vitriol to which we have now become habituated has infected how we view and approach those we come across in person and in our communities. We are becoming accustomed to hatred, not only “out there,” but in our hearts. 

While technology and artificial intelligence have the capacity to bring genuine gifts, they can also amplify these toxic, destructive dynamics. The accelerating pace and reach of these tools, the immense financial and material resources backing them, and their growing capacity to command our attention make the practices of silence and solitude more important than ever. On what will we set our minds? By what light will we see? 

Silence and solitude are counterintuitive practices that challenge the presumptions and pressures of our age. 

In solitude, we abstain from human interaction for a limited period of time. In silence, we abstain from manufactured noise, including our own talking. We, for a time, resist offering or demanding communication. In silence and solitude, we intentionally separate ourselves from the pursuit of social approval as our motivation for being. We temporarily abstain from the cues of others, and take seriously our “audience of One.” 

Throughout his public ministry, Jesus confounded both his followers and the watching public with his insistence on seeking silence and solitude. Just as Jesus would display his power and authority, and strategists of his day expected him to press his advantage, he would retreat. Prior to times of great testing and trial, Jesus fasted for forty days in solitude in the desert or separated from his disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane.  

We recognize that some will hear in this call a kind of passivity, but this is not a call for withdrawal. Public engagement and contribution regarding the issues of our day are critical responsibilities. Rather, this is a call to recognize that our engagement will remain clouded, ineffectual and reactionary if we do not have a rhythm of abstaining from engagement. It is a call to recognize that we will have little meaningful to say to our neighbors if we do not take time to be quiet, to be alone, to listen. 

We also invite those who are not Christians to pursue silence and solitude as they are able and willing. Christians practice silence so that we might better hear the voice of our Lord. We practice solitude so that we might know better that we are never truly alone, that we do not exist in dependence on the approval and affirmation of others, but that it is in God in which we “live and move and have our being.” Should you take up these practices, you might gain some benefit, even if you do not enter into them expecting God to meet you there. It can be a good and edifying thing to step away from the noise, the ceaseless assault on our senses and affections, and to come to terms with who we are without the constant barrage of inputs and appeals that constitute modern life. Perhaps you might even find that you have a soul, and that you are fearfully and wonderfully made by a God who cares for your soul.  

This is a time for action. It is a time to work, across lines of division and with all people of goodwill, for a healthier politics and stronger communities and families. But it will be from the overflow of our hearts that we speak, and it will be according to the orientation of our hearts that we will act. 

Silence and solitude are no silver bullets or magic solutions, but the testimony of ages past, and the prayer of our hearts, is that a sustained commitment to silence and solitude can bear great fruit. These practices will strengthen the church and bless our neighbors. It is in both humility and confidence in the Lord that we issue this call—first to Christians of all persuasions, then as an offering to others—to take up silence and solitude.