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On Sacred Silence

Have you ever chosen to spend a day in silence?

Television. Off. Radio. Off. Computer. Off. Phone. Off.

Silence is not as noiseless as we think.

The refrigerator or heat kick on.

A muffled vehicle passing by.

The dryer tumbling away.

The seconds ticking and quarter hour chimes of an old clock.

Your footsteps.

The buzzing in your ears.

The creaks in the floor of an old house.

The rain against window panes.

The clicking of utensils as you eat.

The air conditioning unit.

The sliding of drawers.

The babbling of a fountain’s water.

The muffled voices of people in the apartment above.

The barking of dogs.

The wind.

The bite into a crisp apple.

The rustle of your clothes as you move about.

The opening and closing of the refrigerator.

The snap while folding laundry.

You might even hear your heart thump…thump…thump…

Sounds we are not cognizant of.

A soundscape unto its own.

Even outer space may not be so silent.

The Music of the Spheres.

The inaudible harmonious cosmic music proposed by Pythagoras

with planets as the musicians.

Strauss’s The Blue Danube of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The universe in 3/4 time.

Spinning to a Viennese waltz.

There is a part of us that deeply yearns for the experience of quiet.

We have thought of how we will spend this time.

Read. Nap. Meditate. Write. Wander. Sit. Look. Daydream.

But we put it off or mitigate it in some way.

What will we do with ourself?

The Calvinist in us asks, Isn’t it a waste of time?

Idleness. The devil’s workshop.

Thoreau would disagree.

Silence is the ground of creativity.

Out of an eternal silence God spoke.

Light surged.

Time came into existence.

A universe began to forever expand.

We call it, The Big Bang.

Was it a bang?

The lights slowly dim to darkness.

The conductor walks on stage.

Applause.

The baton rises.

A hushed silence descends upon musician and listener alike.

From its silent source, music rises.

There is yet another silence.

Deeper than simply the perceived absence of sound.

A calm stillness within our soul.

A silence within which to listen and contemplate.

A silence from which to gaze upon the divine.

But beware…

Silence is dangerous.

God’s voice arises out of silence.

Ask Elijah. He knows.

“a still small silent sound” [1 Kings 19:12]

A silent sound? Hmm.

Silence is terrifying.

We fear silence.

We fear what will be said.

We fear what we will hear.

We fear what it will cost us.

It is this silence of the soul; dangerous, terrifying and still, that the Sacred Liturgy purposefully and paradoxically places in tandem with Word. Word and Silence. Silence birthing Word. Word collapsing back into Silence. A divine ebb and flow.

It is out of Sacred Silence that we enter into Sacred Time.

Time Present. Time Future. Time Past. Time fulfilled!

We gather.

We gather in Silence. Stillness. Wonder.

No announcements. No instructions.

As on the first day of creation music rises.

Our voices join with the heavens and the earth,

with spinning galaxies and birdsong,

and the roaring of the deep oceans to praise the Living God.

Without silence there is no music, no praise of God.

“Let us acknowledge our sins…” No! Consider rather, “Let us be mindful of God’s mercy…” To silently and gently sink into the depths of God’s rich mercy; the God who is slow to anger and abounding in kindness. I would encourage us to rethink not only the emphasis of the Penitential Act but provide a deep, restful silence out of which emerges trust. A trust which cries out “Kyrie eleison!” A cry to the Victor over our sin and death. A worthy entrance into the Sacred Liturgy that reaches out to a God who saves.

In unison with the ebb and flow of the seas and the waxing and waning of the moon, “Let us pray” pulls us back into Sacred Silence from the exaltation of the angels and creation. Like Mary, that place where the thoughts of the heart, our questions, praises, desires, reflections, pleadings, hopes, sorrows and thanksgivings reside.

“Let us pray.” Invitation. Silence. Prayer. A settling in allowing the prayer to have its full depth before God. This moment needs to be respected and protected at all costs. Then, and only then, the presider gathers the heartfelt unspoken prayers of God’s priestly people and offers them in spoken word to the God who spoke Word into our world.

Like music, Word arises out of silence. And a calm stillness is vital to listen, reflect and respond to Word. The Liturgy of the Word begins with a brief moment to settle into an attitude of listening so the ebb and flow of listening, considering, reflecting and responding can begin.

Listening silence. Word. Reflective Silence. Psalm.

Listening silence. Word. Reflective Silence.

Acclamation. Gospel. Homily. Reflective Silence.

Creed. Universal Prayers.

Table prepared.

Gifts presented.

All is ready.

We stand.

A redeemed people.

Pause.

What is God about to do?

A dialogue arises out of the stillness of the question.

A sacred conversation of poetry, song, and thanksgiving is tossed back and forth.

A lone voice rises. The Lord be with you.

A roar of seas splashes back on shore. And with your spirit.

An unaccompanied voice invites. Lift up your hearts.

The waves of faith dash back against the rocks. We lift them up to the Lord.

A solitary voice proclaims. Let us give thanks to the Lord our God

A pounding shower of approval. It is right and just.

And the sea calms to a single voice of faith speaking for the priestly people who intently listen being reminded of what God has done for them.

The Eucharistic Prayer is not a recitation but a story telling to the creative, maternal and sustaining Father-God. Pauses. Emphases. Remembering. A conversation between earth and heaven. Between humanity and divinity. Between spouses, soul-friends and lovers. Amen!

The meal is prepared.

The partaking begins.

Eating and drinking.

Singing and reflecting.

Hungers fed.

Thirsts quenched.

We are satisfied.

We collapse into silent thanks.

Meister Eckhart.

“If the only prayer you say in your entire life is ‘Thank-you’, that would suffice…”