Echoes from the Bell Tower

“...I have put a guard on my mouth. I was silent and was humbled, refraining even from good words.”

Rule of Saint Benedict 6:1

I often feel pressure to talk. Not as a retreat master or when I preach homilies—no pressure there as I feel called to that as a ministry. No, I mean when I am in conversation with a friend or confrere at the lunch table, or at a party or social gathering. Sometimes the “gap” left in a conversation, a silent moment, feels less like a gap than a canyon! There’s an awkwardness, an uncomfortable feeling that usually makes me feel pressure to say something just to fill the void and relieve the awkwardness.

People aren’t comfortable with silence, it seems. And that’s a shame, because in order to have something to say that’s worth sharing, one needs to spend time reflecting on life’s experiences to better understand things, to have a compassionate sense of what reality demands from people living in a complex, and sometimes complicated, world-managing stress, balancing demands on our time: family/friendships, community commitments and work responsibilities, and such. When I preach, the words I share must flow from the silence of my prayer. If I am not engaging in the silence of prayer—striving to listen to God’s Word—then my words will convey little worth hearing. But for all of us, if one isn’t spending time in quiet reflection, how can we expect to grow in wisdom and understanding, how can we become more compassionate and loving?

As a spiritual director for seminarians, I often counsel them to cultivate silence as a daily spiritual discipline. Silence in prayer, of course—listening to God rather than doing all the talking—but also establishing silence in their living environments. Silence is more than a lack of sound, it’s a practice. Silence is also a spiritual attitude, a mentality that strives to be receptive and allow life experiences to “speak” to us and convey something of God’s presence and will—even if they are hard and entail suffering. Hearts trained in silence will accept what Life throws at them, will “listen carefully” (the first words of the Rule of St. Benedict) to perceive what Gods wants one to see and understand so we can grow more resilient and grounded, more capable of thriving. This happens in hearts trained in silence, not despite difficult and painful experiences but because of them!

Silence needs room to grow in us—we need to allow time for quiet reflection and prayer. We need “unplugged” time each day, away from our screens, to focus our attention on what matters and less on what distracts, to heighten our sensitivity to reality, to God’s presence and our own feelings, as well as to know what we carry within us—wounds, preconceptions, prejudicial thinking, etc.—that inhibits our capacity to respond to situations rather than merely “reacting.” Hearts steeped in receptive silence are equipped to choose to respond to situations in ways that correspond with what God would want of us, and according to what the Gospel demands of us—charity, mercy, forgiveness, and compassion. Cultivate silence through daily prayer, journaling, or going on “unplugged” walks (no earbuds, no podcasts, no music, just the natural sounds of your surroundings) - it’s a great way to expand your awareness of self and God!