silence

SILENCE, the pure objective awareness of being, is our "way without words." It opens us up to our deepest spiritual awareness. Silence is fertile soil. What we receive from this rich ground depends on what we put into it... seeds that we ourselves plant in our inmost silence. People who remain unconscious about their own spiritual life seem like irresponsible farmers: they devalue the land entrusted to their care.

The essence of silence is self-emptiness, docility, receptivity, detachment, desire, listening, communion. Every act of silence is a little Advent. A Luigi Giussaní sums it up, "Silence is not merely keeping quiet, but it is the attitude of one who lives standing before a 'You' who is presenting, entreating a 'you' who is present." Teresa of Avila refers to contemplative prayer as the "prayer of quiet." Such prayerful silence enhances our ability and eagerness to listen to our Beloved. In this silence, the one in love remains perfectly content just to behold the Beloved, gazing in a state of holy and tranquil abiding. Silence speaks to silence.

SILENCE was the first prayer I learned to trust when I began my visits to San Damiano. Only later did I begin to let the words in. The silence of the chapel at prayer was broken only by a habit of praise that I came to see was so primal it was not only human. It was — or it mimicked exactly — the essential utterance of existence. It rose from the raw passion which rules life, an urge which has no voice but craves articulation. This communal prayer voiced a harmony otherwise elusive in all of creation, yet thrumming in the monastic silence.

As they talked together of The Way, the obstacles, the people, the signs ... you felt the great importance of the physicality of the quest. All of them stressed the power of silence: the need to be alone and find oneself in the silence. Moving alone, with silence as the single companion, seems a most profound means to register the natural balance of the world without, and world within.