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 rarely, if not ever, has happened before. Through this joined experience, we have been forced to look at ourselves both individually and culturally in ways we might never have been able to do so 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 suffer from 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.

All of 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 in some way.

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

Finally, maybe more than anything, we are experiencing the gift of silence. A collective recovery of the fruits of being still. We are coming to see our idleness as an invitation to something deeper, more 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 has a way to penetrate the superficial exterior of our psyche exposing our innermost fears, hopes, failings, and desires.

Maybe this is the gift that has been given to us now. The time to pay attention to simple gratitudes as well as the cracks within all of us and our communities. To ask big questions of life while at the same time question the “noise” we fill our lives with. To listen rather than to speak for some, while for others, to speak because the truth needs to be spoken.

Our “normal” pace of life has been exposed. Our busyness has clouded our eyes for too long to 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. Moments that give birth to hope, faith, and love.

These are not easy things to encounter or confront. As 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 being re-schooled as we speak.

The gift of these silent days over the last few months has made it harder to simply 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 that this is the way to an integrated consciousness. This is the way to healing. This is the way to truth. This is the way to love.