Silence is Golden

                Last night I decided to commit an hour or two of rare quiet time to finishing a book that I've been working on through Advent and Christmas.  I need silence when I read if I’m to have any chance of absorbing the words on the page.  But I’m also at that stage of life when silence tops the endangered species list.  With work, kids, animals and Church, my life is very full, very active and very noisy.  So for me, as my father used to say, “Silence is golden.” 

Yet, the approaching New Year beckoned for a new beginning, including beginning a new book, so I set myself to my task and diligently finished The Strangest Way by Father Robert Barron.  Having completed my last-minute Old Year’s Resolution, I went upstairs to rummage through the books on my nightstand to decide which one would christen the New Year.  When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but another unfinished book that had gotten lost in the pile of untrod texts.  I’m not sure why or when I stopped reading The Way of the Pilgrim – I only had five pages to go – but there it sat, unfinished.  With the New Year closing in on me fast, I got to reading. 

The point in the book where I had left off was talking about the value of the contemplative life, which can only be realized in silence.  Contrary to modern usage, contemplation isn't “thinking about something.”  Rather, in the words of the 11^th Century Prior, Guigo, contemplation is the “lifting up of the heart to God.”  In other words, contemplation is listening to God with our hearts.  And if we really want to listen to God, we need silence, and we need to be silent. 

For a fairly noisy person who talks a lot, I have an uncharacteristic appreciation of silence.  I think I’m an early bird largely because the wee hours of the morning are the quietest moments of my day.  I love long, earbudless walks in the woods with nothing more than the sounds of wind rustling through the trees, birds singing and the jostling of my dogs’ collars reaching my ears.  When I exercise (if I exercise), I swim, where all sound is muted and muffled by the deep, clear waters of our local pool.  When I need to solve a problem, I retreat to the silence of my office.  I think best in silence; I relax best in silence; and I pray best in silence.

So I was pleasantly surprised to find these words quietly waiting for me within a page or two of finishing The Way of the Pilgrim:  “Silence is the mother of prayer.”  These words speak volumes to me.   I take this phrase to mean that prayer is brought to being and is nurtured by silence.  I've never been good at coming up with words when I pray.  I know the basic rote prayers, and I use them, but I stumble when I have to come up with words of my own.  So the most fulfilling prayer experiences for me involve silence – putting myself in the presence of God without saying a word.  And guess what?  I pray most often in the wee hours of the morning, on long, earbudless walks in the woods, when I’m swimming, and when I’m trying to solve a problem. 

          I've never been much for New Year’s Resolutions, and it would be much too easy (and hokey) to end this posting with a Resolution to pray more and to find more quiet time in the New Year.  I’d love to do both, but I’d rather not set myself up for disappointment.  Instead, I’ll simply hope that when I get those rare moments of silence, I’ll appreciate them:  I’ll appreciate that silence brings the opportunity to listen to God with my heart - to contemplate his Truth.  That’s why silence is golden.