The Sound of Silence

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

In every concert piece, there is a portion of the score which builds up to a crescendo, followed by a moment of silence where all the instruments are paused at once. It may only last a beat or two and then the strings would quietly start again. That silence is a powerful moment in the piece. That silence isn’t a random absence of sound; it is placed there by the composer as a key part of the music. It is essential to the movement and feel of the piece. The lack of sound almost seems to be a sound in itself. Perhaps, this could be the hidden meaning behind that Simon and Garfunkel classic, The Sound of Silence.

The first reading is particularly poignant, as it provides us with a strange but insightful theophany - a manifestation of God to the prophet Elijah during one of the darkest moments of his life. Elijah had fled a murderous pagan Queen who sought revenge for the death of her pagan prophets on Mount Carmel. From the dramatic and climatic battle with these prophets which proved victorious for Elijah because God had fought on his side, Elijah fell to the lowest moment of his ministry where he wished for his own death as an escape from misery. But God sent an angel to console him and lead him to another mountain, Horeb. On Mount Sinai in the Old Testament, God had revealed Himself to Moses. God had hidden behind dark clouds lit up only by streaks of lightning and the sound of deafening thunder. We see something similar in the first reading - wind, earthquake and fire. But ironically, God is not found in the strong wind, earthquake, or fire. Elijah recognises God’s presence in “the sound of a gentle breeze” or in some translations, “the sound of silence.”

The gospel passage also draws our attention to the sound and power of a storm contrasted by the silence at the end of the story. Having performed the great miracle of the multiplication of loaves and the feeding of the multitude, our Lord refused to allow the disciples to bask in the glory of His miracle. He Himself chose not to. Instead, our Lord chose to withdraw into the hills to be alone with His Heavenly Father, to commune in silence. But the noise would pursue His disciples even when they were far out in the sea away from the crowds. The noise of positive approval of the crowds was now replaced with the noise of a crisis, the noise of fear.

When our Lord came walking on the waters in their direction, the storm had not yet calmed. Despite what they witness, their fears and doubts seem more overwhelming than their faith in God. But there is a glimmer of hope. St Peter seeks to take a first step in faith. He requests our Lord to help him walk on water too. As long as Peter kept his eyes on Christ, he was able to walk unhindered through the stormy sea; as soon as he let his eyes wander away from Christ to examine the intimidating waves and listen to the sound of the strong winds, he began to sink. It was not the noisy raging storm around him which caused him to sink but it was the noise in his heart which stopped him from trusting and listening to the Lord.

Finally, the Lord steps into the boat and the evangelist tells us, “the wind dropped.” The noise fell into silence again. Our Lord had restored calm. Our Lord had silenced the noise in the surrounding storm and the storm within the hearts of His disciples. Once more we see the power of silence.

Many of us too, experience the sound of silence in our own lives. The silence is disturbing and unnerving. Perhaps we’ve prayed and prayed and still no answer comes. Maybe we’ve been in a long season of waiting and the silence grows increasingly loud as the days wear on. Or maybe we find ourselves in a spiritual wilderness where the fog of doubt and uncertainty is thick. We feel all alone. Abandoned. Forgotten. And the silence makes us think God has turned and simply walked away. We start to think He’s given up on us and begin to wonder if we should too.

The problem isn’t with God but with us. It is we who have the wrong assumption about God’s silence. Perhaps God’s silence isn’t silence at all. Perhaps what seems like silence is actually an important pause in the score of our life. Because it’s often in the quiet where the real work takes place. We see this truth in the darkness of the womb, a child is knit together. And in the quiet of each night, while all the world sleeps, our bodies and minds continue their labours, drawing breath and circulating blood and firing synapses. In the tomb, where the body of Jesus was laid after His crucifixion, He descends into Hades to rescue the faithful dead unnoticed by the world, which believes that they have killed Him. God is at work, God is always at work, even in the silence. God is at work especially in the silence. Often, the silence is His work.

I once encountered the deafening silence of God as I was discerning my vocation to the priesthood. I had decided to clear my doubts and seek an answer by undertaking a personal retreat at the seminary. After four days of spiritual direction, personal prayer and silence, the answer did not come. As I drove back alone to KL, I was overwhelmed by an immense sense of loss and sadness, and it was at this moment I had an epiphany. The Lord had indeed answered in His silence. In that long drive home, I realised that He had given an answer to my question: “Lord, if it be your will take this cup away from me.” His silence was the answer I needed though it may not have been the answer I expected or wanted. The cup may have tasted bitter at the first sip but would soon yield a full body of sweetness over the years. God answers even in His silence and His ways are always wise and above and beyond our wildest dreams.

There is good in quietly waiting on the Lord. There is good in the silence. Silence forces us to hear things we can’t hear in the storms and cacophony of life. It makes us sit and notice those things we often avoid or drown out with busyness and other distractions. The silence gives us an opportunity to take an honest look at ourselves. To see what we truly love and trust and hope in. To perhaps realise how fickle our hearts are and how far we’ve wandered from God. To see the lies we’ve long believed and lived by. And, ultimately, to grasp just how much we need God’s grace poured out in our lives. Then, like the flash of light in the darkest night, God breaks the silence. The Spirit prompts our hearts and reminds us of what is true. And we realise God has been there all along.

It is good and comforting to remember that the sound of God’s silence will not last forever. It is but a pause used for His good purposes in our lives. One day, all the silences of life will find their place in the score of our lives and we’ll hear it played out in its completion. We’ll hear the most beautiful composition ever played, the song God wrote before time began, the song of redemption. So, despite the raging storms around us, let us keep our eyes and our hearts fixed on Him knowing that with Him, we will not drown, our ship will not capsize and the ranging winds of the storm will drop. Despite the noises of confusion without and within, if our hearts are united to His, we will hear His voice even in the midst of the sound of silence.

The Word Leapt down in Silence

Christmas Mass During the Day

Some would naively argue that the concept of the “Logos,” translated as “the Word” in St John’s lyrical prologue, was something radically new, an appropriation of a Greek philosophical concept. But in the Book of Wisdom in the Old Testament, we find not just a subtle and distant hint but a blaring proclamation of the movement of the Eternal Word:

“For while all things were in quiet silence, and the night was in the midst of her course, Thy almighty Word leapt down from Heaven from Thy royal throne, as a fierce conqueror into the midst of the land of destruction” (Wisdom 18:15).

As with most holidays, Christmas generally tends to be a noisy feast filled with strong, joyful carols proclaiming: “For Unto Us A Child Is Born,” “Joy to the World,” “Angels We Have Heard On High,” “Go Tell It On The Mountain,” etc. And this is all true, and very good, and very beautiful. But there is also a silence to be contemplated, a silence that is often missed and dismissed. The great things that God works within His creatures naturally happen in silence, in a divine movement that suppressed all speech. For what could we say? Thus, God’s heavenly secret is kept under the seal of silence unless He Himself opens the lips and makes the words come forth. And this is what happened as the Book of Wisdom said it would happen: “For while all things were in quiet silence, and the night was in the midst of her course, Thy almighty Word leapt down from Heaven from Thy royal throne.”

The Word Himself, God, the desire of all nations, “leapt down from heaven” in “quiet silence,” physically took on silence, becoming a new born human, an infant. And in the wonderful silence in the stable, Mary and Joseph looked at Jesus for the first time and contemplated the mystery of His birth in silence. Today, in the midst of our revelry and celebration, we are called to adopt an atmosphere of silence if we wish to grasp the mystery of His Incarnation and hear His gentle whispering.

When the Book of Wisdom tells us that the “… almighty Word leapt down from Heaven from (His) royal throne, as a fierce conqueror into the midst of the land of destruction,” the author was reflecting on the death of the Egyptian first-born at the time of the Exodus. The Almighty God reached down from heaven as He had promised to Moses and slew the first-born of the Egyptians so that all might know that the Hebrew people were His chosen.  God proved victorious and in so doing, through death gave life to His People. Now the Church takes that profound and inspired meditation on the victory of life over death and offers it to us as a reflexion on what Christ will do.  Once Christ is born, a life like no other has entered the world.  In this child, the Almighty Word that leapt down from Heaven, we encounter an unconquerable life, a life that is reminiscent of what went on before but surpasses it in power and fullness.  He came “so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).

Although the Incarnation took place in silence and the divine movement often takes place in silence, there is also silence which is imposed by force and violence – a silence which seeks to silence God’s Word. St John tells us that “He (the Word made flesh) came to his own domain and his own people did not accept him.” It should come as no surprise, therefore, that Christmas, a reminder of the birth of the Son of God, must be removed from the public square and its message silence because the message of Christmas, one of life, threatens the prevalent culture of death.

The human race has always known violence to innocence, evidenced by the actions of Pharaoh and Herod and in the last century, Hitler and Stalin. While adults can make their voices heard in protest, the unborn, the sick and the elderly, are easy targets because of their natural silence, if no one speaks for them and on behalf of them. Today, that struggle manifests itself in new and frightening ways - with the proliferation of abortion mills and passing of legislation which legalises the murder of innocents, the sick and the elderly and which seeks to silence dissenting voices.  The violence has become customary, normalised, more imaginative and terrifying. 

But our Lord shows us that life is ultimately victorious. Life conquers through its ability to empty itself out.  The power of the Christian faith manifests itself most especially in being what the world is not.  To arrogance it counters with humility.  To cynicism it reacts with innocence.  To deception it responds with truth.  To glamour it demonstrates with simplicity.  To death it responds with life.  To a cacophony of noise, it offers silence. Christian faith is simply the opposite of everything that the world would expect and want.  It offers “mud,” when the world would want “gold and silver.”  This is what Christmas is all about. Christmas bears a dangerous message which threatens our world and yet, it carries with it the only message which can save the world.

But there is great irony in the liturgy of the Church.  In celebrating a humble birth, we offer our best - we offer our “gold and silver”.  To the silent entry of the Word into our world, we offer our voices in songs of praise and wonderment. We enrich the liturgy with the best that we have to offer because the accoutrements of the rituals manifest the beauty of a world that is not ours and thrusts us forward and upward into an unimaginable beauty, a sign of a world to come. 

Today, we come to the manger offering our best only because we have acknowledged the worst in us: the noise we make in competition with God’s sublime Word; the “mud” we have covered ourselves in - our sins, our weaknesses and shortcomings.  We take courage also in knowing that the Word broke His silence and entered into the noisy madness of our world as He stepped into the “mud” of our fallen existence. Yes, the Eternal Word which leapt down from heaven from His royal throne, has stepped into the filthy “mud” in which we are mired. We were once formed from dust, but now our Lord gives us new life by remoulding the “mud” of our being into a new creation. There is every reason for us to break our silence today and announce: “Indeed, from His fullness we have, all of us, received – yes, grace in return for grace.”

Time to Speak, Time to be Silent

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Sometimes when we are presented with an opportunity to speak up, we would rather choose to remain silent. There are a myriad of reasons why we do so. Sometimes we tell ourselves, ‘We don’t have all the information to make an informed decision,’ or perhaps, we feel powerless to effect any change, or perhaps we fear rejection or risk being pulled beyond our comfort zone of anonymity. In any event, we think, ‘I’m not even on the committee – should I make this my business?’ The self-preserving spirit is constantly whispering in my ear – ‘Of what concern is this to me?’ We don’t speak up or get involved because we’ve been taught from a young age – ‘Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.’

In a world that chooses to silence any attempt at reminding us of our sins, what seems to have suffered more than the lack of cognizance of sins of commission, is that of, sins of omission. Catholics are very familiar with sins against charity by saying things we should not say: gossip, calumny, detraction and the like. But holding your tongue when you should say something is just as evil. Many people fail to understand that you can sin by omission as well as by commission. To not say what needs to be said when it should be said is a sin against justice and is a cooperation with evil.  Unfortunately, our indifference, our lack of positive action, and especially our silence doesn’t let us off the hook. The Civil Rights activist and preacher Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote: “Not only will we have to repent for the sins of bad people; but we also will have to repent for the appalling silence of good people.”

In today’s familiar gospel story of the Wedding at Cana, Mary, the Mother of Jesus, saves the day by breaking her silence and then refuses to be silenced by what seems to be a rude rebuke from her son. Our Blessed Mother’s role in this First Miracle should not be trivialised. Instead of saying “Jesus and His Blessed Mother show up to the wedding”, it might be more accurate to say, “His Blessed Mother was invited to the wedding, and therefore He also was there”. The Blessed Mother is mentioned first. Jesus seems to be there because of Mary’s relationship to the couple being married. Furthermore, our Lord’s miracle was instigated by Our Lady’s charity, and she showed her charity not by keeping silent, but through her keenness of perception to know that there was a problem and her turning to Christ who could solve it.

The story highlights two essential points. The wedding needed Jesus. Without Jesus, the wedding would truly have been a disaster when the wine ran out. With Him in the picture, there is no need to press the panic button. But it is important to note that Jesus also needed Mary. In her compassion and empathy for others, she sees the coming disaster for the party and shame looming for the bridal family. Now, she doesn’t have a solution for the scarcity, but she notices when no one else does, not even the steward of the feast. Mary has the courage and tenacity to speak up. Mary alone sees the need and she sees the solution, it is her own Son.

You probably noticed that the name of the couple being married is not even mentioned. Pretty odd, isn't it? It seems to be the Holy Spirit’s way of showing that the events that took place at this marriage symbolise something much more for the whole of mankind.... beyond this particular couple. This is setting the stage for what happens between the Divine Bridegroom and His Bride. The Divine Bridegroom, of course, is Jesus. And the Church is represented by the Blessed Virgin Mary, who is the first of all mankind to be born again in Jesus. Then the members of the Church, Mary’s children are represented by the others who receive Mary's instructions at the wedding: “Do whatever he tells you.”

It was St. Augustine who suggested that the Cana wedding somehow represents a much larger marriage between the Son of God and the Church, a marriage which is completed at Calvary. Calvary is the height of the marital commitment. Then we can understand why Jesus would address His own mother as “Woman.” This happens twice in the Fourth Gospel. The first time, at the Wedding at Cana and the second occasion, when He speaks to her from the cross. When He calls Mary “Woman”, it is because, what she is doing, she is doing on behalf of all of humanity. She is the new Eve. The Blessed Virgin Mary, the New Eve, begs the New Adam, Jesus, to hasten the “hour” that will restore humanity to its fullness, bring humanity eventually back to glory. Therefore, in both the story of the Wedding at Cana and the crucifixion scene, we see the pivotal role of Our Blessed Mother in the story of salvation.

Let’s come back to those last words of Mary to the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.” She doesn't tell Jesus, “They have a problem, fix it.” She does not insist or demand. She doesn’t chart out a course of action for Jesus, much less specify the manner in which Jesus must resolve the problem.  She leaves everything to the Lord’s judgment. Our Lady responds in obedience to the Son’s total obedience. Obedience to God’s will is a necessary condition for speech. She tells the servants to do what she herself would willingly do, “Do whatever he tells you.” These words carry much weight and significance because they are the last recorded words of Mary in the gospels. Thereafter, she observes a “vow of silence” throughout the gospel narrative and doesn’t even break it at the foot of the cross. Her last words would be her defining moment. It would mark her entire life’s mission – obedience to the will of God.

So, the readings today set us on two complementary, rather than contradictory, paths. One where we must raise our voices and another, where we must keep silent. In respect of the injustices and evil and the need for reform that we see around us, we must not be quelled into silence. Just like the Prophet Isaiah in the first reading, we must “not be silent.” When it comes to the gospel, we must shout from the rooftops. All of us are called to give witness, to preach the good news of Our Lord Jesus Christ for the salvation of souls. Even St. Paul tells us "Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel!" (1 Cor. 9:16). Like Mary, we must choose to speak out even when we risk inconvenience or embarrassment. We need to understand the great peril we are all in by keeping quiet about the Truth and about the Faith.

But then, Mary also shows us the value of silence. Mary's silence is not only moderation in speech, but it is especially, a wise capacity for remembering and embracing in a single gaze of faith the mystery of the Word made flesh. It is this silence as acceptance of the Word, this ability to meditate on the mystery of Christ, that Mary passes on to believers. In a noisy world filled with messages of all kinds, her witness enables us to appreciate a spiritually rich silence and fosters a contemplative spirit. Mary witnesses to the value of a humble and hidden life. Everyone usually demands, and sometimes almost claims, to have his or her entitlement fulfilled. Everyone expects esteem and honour. Mary, on the contrary, never sought honour or the advantages of a privileged position; she always tried to fulfil God's will, leading a life according to the Father's plan of salvation. Instead of saying “Do whatever I tell you, “ she teaches us that the most important words we must share with others is “Do whatever he tells you.”