What could the “Sound of Silence” mean? It sounds paradoxical, if not downright contradictory. Surely silence is the absence of sound or noise? But if we reflect on the meaning of silence in a deeper spiritual sense, we may discover that, just as peace is not merely the absence of war, silence is not merely the absence of noise!
My first step in this month’s reflection is to suggest that silence has not just one meaning, but many meanings, even within the sphere of personal experience, where the mood of a person and their circumstances may change the quality of the silence.
Consider some everyday examples of personal interaction. Have you ever had to keep up a conversation with a person you don’t know very well? This situation can give rise to embarrassing silence when small talk dries up and neither party knows what to say next! Some silences can be excruciating! Or think of a situation where someone verbally attacks you, and you are “struck dumb” by the suddenness of the event. We could call this type of situation angry silence.
Frequently, arguments between people give rise to such hostile silences, where one may be screaming inwardly but unable or unwilling to express those feelings in words. The concept of passive aggression in psychology may capture part of this meaning, where someone is silently sulking and refusing to communicate with significant others.
Then there is the silence of the grave, the silence of grief, where a loved one has died and those left to grieve miss the sound of their voice, except in memory – and even that may fade away too quickly. Such a silence fell over the whole land, we are told in the Gospels, on Good Friday when Jesus died on the Cross.
Not only were his friends missing the sound of his loving voice, but they experienced the silence of shame and guilt for their betrayal and the silence of fear as they cowered in the Upper Room, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.
Such silences are decidedly negative, full of discomfort, anguish, and agitation. There is an absence of noise, but even more an absence of peace. The “sound” of silence is often said to involve an atmosphere that you could “cut with a knife!”
But let’s not dwell just on the negative dimension of personal silence as there are many more positive examples which we can treasure.
The opposite of angry or embarrassing silence in relation to others is what we may call companionable silence, the common example being partners in marriage or long-standing friends who sit together not feeling the need to say much, just feeling comfortable, at home with the loved one.
There is the well-known story of the priest challenging a parishioner in his church who was simply sitting at the back of the church apparently doing nothing – no lips moving, no rosary beads rattling. On being asked what he was up to, he replied, “I look at him and he looks at me.”
There is the silence of the mystic, the silence of the adoring gaze where words would just get in the way. I think here of the lovely Psalm 62 which Fr John Kealy used to use at Mass here for spiritual communion, containing those stirring words, “So I gaze on you in the sanctuary to see your strength and your glory. For your love is better than life and my lips will speak your praise” (vs.2-3). Out of the silent gaze comes the praise!
This last kind of silence is close to the experience of being “struck dumb” by something beautiful. It is the silence of wonder. For some this may happen in the experience of the beauty of nature. But it takes many forms from grasping some profound truth to falling in love and experiencing the wonder of being loved when one feels so unworthy of it.
We are coming now to one of the most important forms of silence, which is bringing me to the example of Jesus, presented as our model in the account of the Transfiguration in the Gospel of Luke on the Second Sunday of Lent (Lk 9:28-36). It is the obvious link between silence and listening or attentive / receptive silence.
Isn’t it obvious, just common sense, that if we are to listen at all to someone, there must be silence, even at a purely physical level? But this is more important still, and more vital, when it comes to personal receptivity to revelation, whether it be of another pouring out their heart to us or, above all, the revelation of God!
In the account of the Transfiguration, the high point is the message of the Father for the disciples, that Jesus is the one to whom they must listen (9:35). But I find it striking that although Jesus is the central figure in this account, we never hear him speak. He is strangely silent!
Moses and Elijah speak to him about his passing, but he doesn’t respond (v.30). Peter asks about setting up tents (v.33), but the question is too silly to merit an answer, and suddenly a cloud comes over them and it is God who speaks.
I can only speculate here, but could it be the case that Jesus is worthy of being listened to because firstly, he is always listening to His Father? And that listening begins with prayer. (The Gospel for the First Sunday of Lent featured Jesus ‘retreating’ to the desert for prayer before ‘advancing’ confidently into his public ministry. He had to discern the means most fitting to carry out his Father’s will Lk 4:1-13).
Thus, the event of the Transfiguration begins with Jesus taking his disciples with him to pray (Lk 9:28). Was he praying aloud or in silence? We are not told, but if prayer is as much about listening to God as speaking to him, I like to think that he prayed in silence.
And from within that companionable, loving silence, communing with the Father through the Spirit, his whole self was transfigured. Without the silence, there could be no prayer and without the prayer, no transfiguration. It is a lesson Peter, James and John must learn to be true apprentices of the Lord.
And perhaps it is no coincidence that the account concludes with a reference to their keeping silence and telling no one what they had seen (v.36). There is a time for silence and a time for speaking.
I spoke earlier of the silence of the grave on Good Friday, and perhaps Lent, being a preparation for Holy Week and Easter, requires us to participate in that silence in our penitential practices? But let’s not forget Easter, when the Risen Christ suddenly “breaks the silence” in the most loving way, addressing Mary Magdalene by name and breaking into the Upper Room to dispel the silence of grief and guilt with a resounding “Peace be with you.”
May this Lent be a time when we overcome the negative silences of our lives and embrace the positive ones, when the sound of silence is truly sublime, a thing of wonder rather than an experience of agitation and anger.
Kieran ofm