NeuroDivine

Psalm 62 | Isaiah 10:33–11:9 | Matthew 8:14–22 | Rule of St Benedict, Chapter 42

Silence after Compline is not simply the absence of words—it is the cultivation of trust. Psalm 62 reminds us: “For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.” The Rule insists that monastics guard this silence with zeal, not as punishment, but as sanctuary. To speak after Compline is to break the fragile vessel of peace that has been poured out for the community.

Isaiah’s vision of the shoot from the stump of Jesse is a reminder that silence is not barren. In the quiet, roots deepen. In the hush of night, the Spirit rests upon us—wisdom, understanding, counsel, and might. Silence is fertile ground for justice and peace, where the wolf and lamb may dwell together.

Matthew’s Gospel shows Jesus moving from healing Peter’s mother-in-law to calling disciples who must leave behind their comforts. Silence, too, is a leaving-behind: of chatter, of distraction, of the need to fill space. It is a discipleship of restraint, where words are weighed against the gravity of presence.

Today, Thursday, I carry this reflection into my own rhythm. A day off from dialysis is a day when silence feels less like enforced discipline and more like gift. The body is not tethered to machines, and the spirit can breathe more freely. Yet the call of the Rule remains: even in freedom, silence is not emptiness but communion. It is the space where Andrew and I can simply be, where Liam, Otto, and Barnaby remind me that companionship does not always require words.

Silence after Compline is not about shutting down—it is about opening up. It is the doorway into rest, into trust, into the quiet assurance that God holds us when we no longer hold ourselves. On this Thursday, I let silence be my prayer, my healing, my Sabbath.