Some saints are prolific writers, and we treasure their works. Some, like Thomas Aquinas, help us understand the mystery of God better. Other saints, like Maximilian Kolbe, find ways to use media in a new way in order to spread the Gospel. Or think of Mother Angelica, who founded a Catholic television station and hosted a show.
And then, there are the silent saints.
The Gospels do not record one single word spoken by St. Joseph, the foster father of Jesus. We know him only by his actions. The Gospel of Matthew tells us he is a “righteous man,” and his tender care of Mary and the newborn Jesus bear that out. Most of this man’s life is hidden from us, including his thoughts and words. Yet he was chosen by God to raise the Son of God. This silent saint, who listened to God in the silence of his heart, tells us much about how to live our faith under trying circumstances.
Another silent saint is Mary.
Mary’s words are recorded in four passages in the Bible. Three of the four passages are from the Gospel of Luke: the Annunciation, when she speaks with the angel (Luke 1:34 and 38); her visit to Elizabeth, when Mary sings the psalm of praise known as the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55); and the time that Jesus is lost in the Temple and Mary admonishes him (Luke 2:48).
We also find Mary speaking in the Gospel of John, during the story of the Wedding at Cana. She tells Jesus that there is no more wine (John 2:3) and then tells the servers, “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:5) — which, as someone once told me, is perhaps the best bit of advice in the entire Bible.
Of course, the gospels also tell us that Mary kept many things in her heart to ponder. In the Holy Family, the quiet must have led them to great contemplation of God and His will for their lives. One wonders if this habit of silence was one of the reasons Jesus often left everything behind to go and pray by Himself.
St. John the Silent (his name tells you something, huh?) was born in 5th century Armenia. At the young age of 28, he was sought out by the archbishop to become a bishop, an assignment John did not want. However, he served for nine years, and then joined a monastery, seeking seclusion for prayer. It is recorded that, during his life, he spent 76 years in solitude.
Of course, Catholics have the great history of the monastic tradition: Trappists, Carmelites, Benedictines and other orders of men and women whose main focus is prayer and work, done mostly in silence. Why the silence? One monastic priest says:
In my daily work the habit of silence (I’ve been here 35 years) helps me to focus, even to put aside pre-occupying worries while I concentrate on a particular responsibility. That can be preparing the community’s meal, typing the entries for our website, hearing confessions, preparing a class for the novitiate, chanting the psalms at community prayers when I have a cold, whatever. But I have learned that I started out with certain powers of concentration, so I may not be too accurate here; I grew up in NYC and it’s second nature to me to block out background noise. But I can say that the habit of silence keeps me from seeking additional noise. I’m not uneasy when it’s very quiet or when I’m totally alone. But I don’t find silence making tasks easier to complete.
The silence does make me aware of my inner workings, however, what we call in the monastery, “self-knowledge.” I can’t pretend that I’m always a nice guy, always patient, always calm and receptive. I have to admit that I can be abrupt, cold to offenders, or would often prefer efficiency to the messiness of other people’s moods. Silence seems to keep me from idealizing myself.
St. Mary Clare, a Carmelite nun, acknowledges that the silence can be hard. Our world is so full of noise that silence can seem empty. We want to fill it with something. For monastics, however, the silence is quite different:
Through silence we become more deeply aware of the beauty, unity, goodness and truth all around us and within us. Through faith our whole outlook on life is changed. What used to appear as ordinary, temporal events, become reflections of these four attributes of God. These happenings become messages through which He speaks intimately to our hearts; moments of sublime personal contact with Infinite Love Itself.
Listening to the word in silence, faith and love, we hear the secret to our happiness and authentic personal fulfillment. Only in this do we truly begin to fill that deep void and satisfy the longing that consumes us as human persons.
Now it is true that most of us are not called to the monastic life. But we all need silence. Silence is the only way God can truly speak to us, just us, with our own unique message. Yes, we hear God in prayer and song and Scripture and in other’s voices, but … silence. Silence is where God dwells. If we want to know God, we must turn to silence.
But the word of the Lord came to him: Why are you here, Elijah? He answered: “I have been most zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts, but the Israelites have forsaken your covenant. They have destroyed your altars and murdered your prophets by the sword. I alone remain, and they seek to take my life.” Then the Lord said: Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord will pass by.
There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord was not in the wind; after the wind, an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake; was not in the fire; after the fire, a light silent sound. (1 Kings 19:9-12)
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