Gift of Silence

Due to COVID-19, the world community has paused. Humanity has been forced to stop, allowing for a type of collective vulnerability that has rarely, if ever, happened before. This shared experience has forced us to examine ourselves individually and culturally in ways we might never have been able to do during our times of “normalcy.”

The first observation is one of sadness. Sadness for those who have died, usually alone, and for the families who have had to watch a loved one die from afar. Sadness for the millions who have lost their jobs and, with that, their dignity, and now struggle to find ways to support their families and loved ones. Sadness for all those who have mental illness and who struggle with loneliness, resulting in having to endure the greatest of poverty, the feeling of being unloved. Sadness for the continued sin of racism and its aftermath that can spread much like a virus.

The sadness is overwhelming. No one has been immune to it. It has been placed on all of us, some more than others, yet we all have felt it somehow.

Another observation is the physical absence of people, which has ignited in all of us the most basic human desires: a simple hug from friends and loved ones, a coffee and authentic conversation with others, and praying and worshiping in community. Technology has been a great gift, allowing us to stay connected. That said, as much as we are all glued to our gadgets, nothing compares to the physical presence of others. We know this now more than ever.

Finally, we are experiencing the gift of silence and a collective recovery of the fruits of being still. We see our idleness as an invitation to something more profound and fulfilling—a renewed hope if we listen and pay attention long enough.

“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

-Blaise Pascal

To sit quietly in a room is to allow truth to simmer. Silence can penetrate the superficial exterior of our psyche, exposing our innermost fears, hopes, failings, and desires.

This may be the gift given to us now: the time to pay attention to simple gratitudes and the cracks within us and our communities. Ask big questions about life while questioning the “noise” we fill our lives with. To listen rather than speak for some, while for others, to speak because the truth needs to be communicated.

Our “normal” pace of life has been exposed. Our busyness has clouded our eyes for too long on the simple truths of life, which can only become recognizable in the quiet, still moments of our minds and hearts—moments that produce clarity and renewal and give birth to hope, faith, and love.

These are not easy things to encounter or confront. Richard Rohr once said, “After years of being taught that the way to deal with painful emotions is to get rid of them, it can take a lot of re-schooling to learn how to sit with them.” In some ways, we are all being re-schooled as we speak.

Over the last few months, the gift of these silent days has made it harder to ignore the things that matter. Instead, we are forced to face them, individually and collectively, as a society. In doing so, as painful as it might be, we realize this is the way to an integrated consciousness, healing, truth, and love.