Silence

Silence

I didn’t grow up in a quiet home. With seven siblings there was more than enough noise to go around. Between arguing over chores and who forgot to do what, there was little room for peace and quiet. The busyness of large family was not conducive to a sense of tranquility and reflection.

It wasn’t until I entered the seminary that I was introduced to silence. Every evening at 10pm without exception, the rule of Grand Silence was enforced. That meant there was no talking, no radio, no noise: all doors closed, all lights off and all mouths shut until breakfast the following morning.

The purpose of the Grand Silence, a carry-over from the monastic Middle Ages, was to instill the discipline of contemplation in those of us who were in training to be priests. Separation from the demands and distractions of the outside world was seen as an important ingredient for religious life.

Somehow, I took to this discipline. Coming from a quite different environment I found the enforced silence a challenge. It took a while, but I started to look forward to those uninterrupted hours of silence. It wasn’t long before this discipline of silence became an integral part of my life.

Years later, I still embrace the silence. Not like those seminary years but preferring quiet to the noise of TV or background music. Every once in a while, Judy will comment on my quirky silence: “Do you think you are still in the seminary?” That forces me to snap of silence mode.

I find the best silent time is early morning before the sun comes up. I don’t have any trouble rising early, brewing a cup of coffee and settling down to some quiet time. There is no one to enforce the Grand Silence on me anymore. The mold is set, and I am very thankful for the gift of this discipline in my life.

There is “a time to be silent and a time to speak.”