In a world shaped by outrage and constant commentary, the Christian calling is different. Drawing on Scripture, the Desert Fathers, and the theology of St. Gregory Palamas, this homily explores why Christians must learn to speak in ways that build up rather than tear down. Sometimes the most faithful response is simply silence.
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Homily Notes: St. Gregory Palamas
“Let Us Be Quiet”
There are moments when the most truthful response a human being can give … is silence.
What do you meet in silence?
On Holy Saturday, during the First Resurrection service, we sing these words:
“Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and in fear and trembling stand; for the King of kings and Lord of lords comes forth, to be slain, to give Himself as food to the faithful.”
Why should we be silent in the presence of God?
Sometimes the reason is shame.
When we see the goodness of God clearly, we recognize the ways we have failed Him. The proper response is not words of justification. It is silence.
Sometimes the reason is gratitude.
For those who have received God’s gift of redemption through Christ, there is nothing we could say that would adequately express it.
Sometimes the reason is relief.
For those who have wearied themselves trying to do good in service to God, there is comfort in knowing that our efforts have not been in vain. The burden becomes light because God is real.
Sometimes the reason is simply rationality.
What could we possibly say that would improve the intellectual profundity of the moment?
Remember St. Peter at the Transfiguration. He sees the glory of Christ and immediately begins talking:
“Lord, let us build three tents…”
But Scripture gently reminds us that he did not know what he was saying.
This teaches us that sometimes silence is the only reasonable response.
It also teaches us that the most profound experience of silence is simply awe.
It is like standing in the sun after a long cold winter and feeling its warmth.
You do not analyze the sun.
You stand in it.
But silence does not come naturally to us.
Spiritually speaking, the opposite of silence is not just sound.
The opposite of silence is distraction.
Noise.
Talking.
Constant reaction.
And today one of the loudest places in our lives is not the street.
It is our phones.
Social media trains us to respond instantly to everything.
Every opinion must be expressed.
Every disagreement must be answered.
Every irritation must be broadcast.
But the spiritual life teaches something very different.
Sometimes the holiest thing you can do…
is not to respond.
Sometimes holiness means closing the app and being quiet.
This struggle with speech is not new.
The Desert Fathers understood this deeply.
A brother asked Abba Pambo whether it was good to praise one’s neighbor, and the old man said:
“It is better to be silent.”
And if that is true about praise, how much more true it is when we are tempted to criticize or attack our neighbor [or even some rando on the internet]?
Another brother asked Abba Poemen:
“Is it better to speak or to be silent?”
And the old man replied:
“The man who speaks for God’s sake does well; but the man who is silent for God’s sake also does well.”
Scripture says something similar:
“Even a fool, when he holds his peace, is counted wise; and he who shuts his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.”
(Proverbs 17:28)
Or as Mark Twain later put it:
“Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.”
But Christian silence is not just about avoiding foolish words.
It is about growing out of our sin and toward divinity.
And here we must be honest with ourselves.
We see easily when other people speak with anger, bitterness, sarcasm, or cruelty.
But we rarely notice when we do the same thing.
It is a bit like bad breath: [pause] We notice it quickly in other people, but we may not realize when it is our own.
So here is a simple rule many of us were taught as children:
“If you cannot say something nice, do not say anything at all.”
That may sound simple. But it contains real wisdom. Before speaking, ask yourself:
Will what I am about to say build up the person I am speaking to?
This is not about sugar-coating reality.
This is not about pretending evil is good or giving evil a pass.
Rather, it is about learning to speak in a way that builds up rather than tears down—so that we become pastors and priests rather than pundits and prosecutors. There are already plenty of prosecutors. What the world needs are pastors.
And that is precisely what we are called to be as the Royal Priesthood.
But we need to acquire silence so that we might receive and share grace in this calling.
Abba Arsenius said:
“I have often repented of speaking, but never of remaining silent.”
And if you are not sure whether a word would be useful?
And how could you be sure?
Do you really know their heart?
Do you know their struggles?
Do you know their intentions?
We so easily judge the surface of another person’s life without knowing the weight they carry.
So if we are not sure whether speaking would be useful—and we should always have our doubts—perhaps the best thing for us to do is simply be quiet.
Because silence is not just the absence of words.
It is the space where the heart begins to hear God.—
This is only the first step in the way of silence. But we must start somewhere:
Speak less.
Listen more.
Use words to build up rather than tear down.
Over time, something begins to change inside us.
Silence creates space.
And in that space we begin to notice something we had missed before.
The presence of God.
A brother once came to Abba Moses at Scetis and asked him for a word.
The old man said:
“Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.”
Silence becomes a teacher.
Stillness becomes a teacher.
And this is exactly what St. Gregory Palamas teaches us.
He reminds us that the knowledge of God is not reached by noise or argument, but through hesychia — holy stillness — the quieting of the mind and heart so that the light of God may be known.
Not because we have earned it.
But because we have finally become quiet enough to notice Him.
And this is why the Church calls us to spiritual silence in the Divine Liturgy.
In a few moments we will stand again before the altar.
The King of Kings will come forth.
Not in thunder.
Not in spectacle.
But in bread and wine that become His Body and Blood.
And so the Church says again, through the hymn of Holy Saturday;
“Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and in fear and trembling stand.”
Let us quiet our minds.
Let us quiet our tongues.
Let us quiet our hearts.
So that we may stand before the Lord of glory…
and receive Him with awe.
And so the Church teaches us again what the saints have always taught: let us be quiet.
If we learn this lesson well, we may discover that what waits for us in that silence is not emptiness at all… but the living presence of God.
And that silence, and that Presence, slowly shape us into the likeness of Christ.
