Silence
Some years ago, Cardinal Sarah released a volume entitled The Power of Silence, a masterpiece of spiritual theology that points us to the indispensable role of silence for the spiritual life. Simply put, without it, there is no spiritual life.
That may seem a bold and overly reductive statement, but I don’t believe it is. We know how much time we waste in interior dialogues with ourselves about what happened, what we think happened, what should have happened; what I did or did not do, what I should or should not do, or have done, or will do; what others — the Government, politicians, the clergy, my spouse, my kids and grandkids, my boss, etc. did, did not do, is doing or not, should be doing, etc., etc., etc.
The interior clamor is incessant.
Add to it the din of modern life — iPhones, email, internet that claim attention constantly, with apps rigged to hook us; aggravating, fascinating, or lurid news, or some combination of the three; offers that feed fear or greed are all one set of sources of din. Go for a drive, and be part of the madness on the roads. Listen to the radio, often so filled with mind-numbing music, polarized political diatribe…. you get the point: there’s always something to feed the cacophony of self-justification that threatens to run nonstop.
The solution is simple, but it isn’t easy: just stop. Limit the use of electronics to what is absolutely essential; drive the speed limit in the slow lane and keep your eyes, ears, and mind on the road — turn the radio off and the phone, too. Work to limit the amount of exposure to noise pollution, and you’ll be amazed at the difference in your life. That’s been my experience, anyway.
But the noise in the head. . .
David Clayton has written in his The Vision for You that we can reframe our perception of others, turning negative events with them, real or perceived, into occasions of prayer for them: Bless … in every way that I wish to be blessed myself, until the negative perception recedes or changes. There’s more to it, of course, but that’s the salient point for this piece.
I’ve taken his point in another direction: to pray the Lord’s Prayer any time a negative event — a task I don’t want to do, a matter I don’t want to confront, a person who caused or who I think caused me harm — arises, and to continue praying it. It is after all the perfect prayer, given to us by God Himself. What better way to pray than with God’s own words? What better way to unite ourselves to the work of Christ by praying His words as the sacrifice of praise while we do, confront, or encounter people, places, or things we would rather avoid? As you pray the prayer, maybe adding the Hail Mary and the Glory Be, if so inclined, you’ll find it easier to do the disagreeable thing: God Himself is helping you.
Praying this way does wonders for the soul. It fills the mind with positive thoughts. It stops us from sinning interiorly. It creates space in our souls for God to fill with Himself. It creates peace. And it creates comfort with the silences of God.
Think for a moment of the silence of Christmas morning (before the kids get up, or after they’ve opened their presents and left you and your spouse to yourselves). Ever notice when you step outside on Christmas morning how quiet it is? The world is full of peace, a silence that is full. Think of the silence of Lent, when we wrestle with ourselves, and with God, as He shows us what has to go, what has to yield, what has to give way so that we can be more like Christ. Think of the silence of Gethsemane, when all we can do is observe the Lord’s anguish and seek not to fall into torpor ourselves. The silence of Good Friday reminds us that something terrible is taking place, something we are powerless to stop and for which, in some measure, we, too, are responsible. The silence of Holy Saturday looks forward in joyful hope to Easter morning. The silence of Easter morning reminds us that the Tomb is empty and that He is risen, as He said. The silence of the Easter season reminds us that the Lord is quietly teaching us the meaning of His life, death, and resurrection, and preparing for the days ahead. The silence of Ascensiontide is filled with questions about what happens next. The silence of the Pentecost season reminds of all the agricultural parables, in which the Farmer silently cultivates the earth so as to bring forth good fruit.
Think of the silence in the church at the consecration, and of the interior silence after receiving Holy Communion.
God works in silence. That’s why when He speaks His Word, the Word reverberates throughout the universe — and throughout our souls, if we have prepared ourselves in the silence we need to hear it. For the Word reverberates, but it doesn’t shout, and it is heard only by those who have trained themselves to listen for it and to obey it when it beckons.