The Power of Silence

by Robert Cardinal Sarah,

  God desires to communicate to us his friendship and intimacy, but he can do so only if we are open to him in a fair, true attitude. Before the Entirely Other, man must acknowledge his littleness, misery, and nothingness. Remember what Jesus said to Saint Catherine of Siena: “I am the one who is; you are the one who is not.”

  226. Without radical humility that is expressed in gestures of adoration and in sacred rituals, no friendship with God is possible.

  Silence manifests this connection in an obvious way. True Christian silence makes itself sacred silence first so as to become silence of communion.

  227. Before the divine majesty, we are at a loss for words. Who would dare speak up in the presence of the Almighty? When God reveals his glory to Isaiah, the prophet cries out: “Holy, holy, holy!” He uses the Hebrew word kadosh, which means holy and sacred at the same time. Then he exclaims: “I am lost!” We could just as well translate it: “I am reduced to silence!” (Is 6:5).

  228. People of all cultures and of all religions know: before God, we are lost, and in the presence of his grandeur, our words no longer have meaning. They are not up to the Infinite. In Africa, after the songs and the dances, a sacrifice to the deity is surrounded by an impressive sacred silence.

  Of course, the sacred silence of Christians goes farther. It is not about a taboo that God inflicts on mankind so as to preserve his power jealously. On the contrary, the true God prescribes the sacred silence of adoration so as to communicate himself to us better. But Isaiah explains: “Listen to me in silence!” (Is 41:1).

  229. In 1995, in his Apostolic Letter Orientale Lumen, Saint John Paul II recalled:

  All, believers and non-believers alike, need to learn a silence that allows the Other to speak when and how he wishes. . . . In the humble acceptance of the creature’s limits before the infinite transcendence of a God who never ceases to reveal himself as God-Love. . . , I see expressed the attitude of prayer. . . . We must confess that we all have need of this silence, filled with the presence of him who is adored.

  230. To refuse silence filled with confident fear and adoration is to refuse God the freedom to take hold of us by his love and presence. Sacred silence allows man to place himself joyfully at God’s disposal. It enables him to overcome the arrogant attitude that would claim that God is at the disposal of all the whims of his children. What creature can boast of possessing the Creator in this way? On the contrary, sacred silence offers us a way of leaving the profane world and the incessant turmoil of our immense metropolitan cities so as to allow God to take hold of us. Sacred silence is truly the place where we can encounter God, because we come to him with the proper attitude of a man who trembles and stands at a distance while hoping confidently.

  231. Sacred silence is therefore the only truly human and Christian reaction to God when he breaks into our lives. It seems that God himself teaches us that he expects from us this worship of silent, sacred adoration. “When you praise the Lord, exalt him as much as you can; for he will surpass even that. When you exalt him, put forth all your strength, and do not grow weary, for you cannot praise him enough. Who has seen him and can describe him? Or who can extol him as he is?” Ben Sirach the Sage asks (Sir 43:30-31). When God appears, praise alone should flow from our heart. Conversely, every form of display that gives the impression of a spectacle must disappear. Why show the vanity of a profane action or of a worldly word in the presence of his infinite grandeur? “The Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him” (Hab 2:20). Only at that moment can he take the initiative to meet us. For God always loves first. Our sacred silence becomes a silence of joy, of intimacy, and of communion: “The words of the wise [are] heard in quiet” (Eccles 9:17).

  232. Silence teaches us a great rule of the spiritual life: familiarity does not promote intimacy; on the contrary, a proper distance is a condition for communion. Humanity advances toward love through adoration. Sacred silence, laden with the adored presence, opens the way to mystical silence, full of loving intimacy. Under the yoke of secular reason, which only makes us feel guilty, we have forgotten that worship and the sacred are the only entrances to the spiritual life.

  233. Sacred silence is a cardinal law of all liturgical celebrations. In 1978, in an article in Communio, the theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar wrote:

  No liturgy designed by men could be “worthy” of the subject of their homage, of God at whose throne the heavenly choirs prostrate themselves with covered faces, having cast off their crowns and ornaments before offering adoration. The attempt to return to him who “created all according to his will” the honour that all creatures received must a priori compel to its knees an earthly community of sinners. Domine non sum dignus! [Lord, I am not worthy!] If this community, meeting for praise and worship, should have anything else in mind than adoration and self-oblation—for example, self-development or any other project in which they place themselves thematically in context next to the Lord who is to be worshipped, then they naively deceive themselves. This topic can be touched only with fear and trembling.

  234. How can we fail to mention here the liturgy of Good Friday, when the celebrant comes into the sanctuary? He prostrates himself, stretching out on the floor in front of the altar, and remains in that position for a long interval in great silence. This silent gesture is eloquent. Man acknowledges his nothingness, and he literally has nothing to say in view of the sacred mystery of the Cross. Humbly, he can only prostrate himself and adore. But this adoration is not crushing; on the contrary, it opens us up to an attitude of abandonment and trust.

  235. Since the reform of Paul VI, and despite the intention of that great pope, sometimes in the liturgy there is an air of misplaced, noisy familiarity. Under the pretext of seeking to make access to God easy and approachable, some have wanted everything in the liturgy to be immediately intelligible. This egalitarian intention may seem commendable. But in thus reducing the sacred mystery to good ideas, we prevent the faithful from approaching the true God. Under the pretext of pedagogy, some priests indulge in endless flat, horizontal commentaries. These pastors are afraid that silence in the presence of the Most High might disconcert the faithful. In Orientale Lumen, however, Saint John Paul II cautions us:

  On the contrary, the Christians of the East turn to God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, living persons tenderly present, to whom they utter a solemn and humble, majestic and simple liturgical doxology. But they perceive that one draws close to this presence above all by letting oneself be taught an adoring silence, for at the culmination of the knowledge and experience of God is his absolute transcendence.

  236. How can we claim to approach “Him who is beyond all things” by adopting a negligent, careless attitude? In a very beautiful homily entitled “On the Grave and the Cross”, Saint John Chrysostom already exhorted his faithful to take care during the procession at communion. He asked them to approach only if they were full of “fear, veneration, and reverence”, and he expressed his astonishment: “The angels who guarded Jesus’ tomb did so with fear and recollection, while you—who are going, not to an empty tomb, but to the table where the living Lamb offers himself—approach in a disorderly fashion, noisily, each one joking with his neighbor?” What would he say today about our processions? How many priests walk toward the altar of sacrifice while chattering, discussing, or greeting the people who are present instead of losing themselves in a sacred silence full of reverence. . .

  237. At the beginning of our Eucharistic celebrations, how is it possible to eliminate Christ carrying his Cross and walking painfully under the weight of our sins toward the place of sacrifice? There are so many priests who enter triumphantly and walk up toward the altar, greeting people left and right, so as to appear sympathetic. Just look at the sad spectacle of some Eucharistic celebrations. . . . Why so much frivolousness and worldliness at the moment of the Holy Sacrifice? Why so much profanation and superficiality, given the extraordinary priestly grace that renders us able to make the Body an
d Blood of Christ substantially present by the invocation of the Spirit? Why do some think that they are obliged to improvise or invent Eucharistic Prayers that conceal the sacred prayers in a wash of petty, human fervor? Are Christ’s words insufficient, making it necessary to multiply merely human words? In such a unique and essential sacrifice, is there any need for such a display of imagination and subjective creativity? “In praying do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard for their many words”, Jesus warns us (Mt 6:7). Many fervent Christians who are moved by the Passion and death of Christ on the Cross no longer have the strength to weep or to utter a cry of pain to the priests and bishops who make their appearance as entertainers and set themselves up as the main protagonists of the Eucharist. These believers tell us nevertheless: “We do not want to gather with men around a man! We want to see Jesus! Show him to us in the silence and humility of your prayer!”

  Sacred silence is a good belonging to the faithful, and clerics must not deprive them of it.

  238. In 2011, during the World Youth Day in Madrid, Pope Benedict XVI was supposed to address the young people from all over the world during the great vigil. As he was about to speak, a storm arose, and there was a cloudburst. The pope waited with the young people for the storm to calm down. Finally, when the weather became more clement, a master of ceremonies brought the Holy Father the speech that he had prepared. But the pope preferred to use the remaining time for the essential thing. Instead of speaking, he invited the young people to enter with him into the silence of adoration. Kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament, Benedict XVI preached by his silence. There were more than a million young people behind him, drenched to the skin, standing in the mud; nevertheless, over that immense crowd reigned an impressive sacred silence that was literally “filled with the adored presence”. It is an unforgettable memory, an image of the Church united in great silence around her Lord.

  From another angle, what is the connection between silence and mystery?

  239. Words often bring with them the illusion of transparency, as though they allowed us to understand everything, control everything, put everything in order. Modernity is talkative because it is proud, unless the converse is true. Is our incessant talking perhaps what makes us proud?

  Never before has the world spoken so much about God, about theology, about prayer, and even about mysticism. But our human language lowers to a paltry level everything that it tries to say about God. Words spoil anything that surpasses them. Now, mystery is by definition that which is above our human reason. In his Mystical Theology, pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite wrote that, confronted with this reality that is beyond everything, confronted with the mystery, we are led to the “dazzling obscurity of the secret Silence. . . surcharging our blinded intellects with the. . . invisible fairness of glories which exceed all beauty.”

  240. There is a real warning that our civilization needs to hear. If our intellects can no longer close their eyes, if we no longer know how to be quiet, then we will be deprived of mystery, of its light, which is beyond darkness, of its beauty, which is beyond all beauty. Without mystery, we are reduced to the banality of earthly things.

  241. Often I wonder whether the sadness of Western urban societies, filled with so much depression and moral distress, so many suicides, does not come from the loss of the sense of mystery. In losing the capacity for silence in the presence of the mystery, people cut themselves off from the sources of joy. Indeed, they find themselves alone in the world, without anything that surpasses and supports them. I know of nothing more frightening than that! How else can we understand the reflection of Blaise Pascal in his Pensées:

  When I see the blindness and the wretchedness of man, when I regard the whole silent universe, and man without light, left to himself, and, as it were, lost in this corner of the universe, without knowing who has put him there, what he has come to do, what will become of him at death, and incapable of all knowledge, I become terrified, like a man who should be carried in his sleep to a dreadful desert island, and should awake without knowing where he is, and without means of escape.

  Without silence, we are deprived of mystery, reduced to fear, sadness, and solitude. It is time to rediscover silence! The mystery of God, his incomprehensibility, is the source of joy for every Christian. Every day we rejoice to contemplate an unfathomable God, whose mystery will never be exhausted. The eternity of heaven itself will be the joy, ever new, of entering more profoundly into the divine mystery without ever exhausting it. Only silence can express this joy: “We are silent because the words by which our souls would fain live cannot be expressed in earthly language”, said the Carthusian Augustin Guillerand, in the anthology They Speak by Silences.

  242. In order to preserve the mystery, it is necessary to protect it from profane banality. Silence performs this role admirably. A treasure must be placed out of reach; what is precious always remains veiled. Even our body is covered with clothing, not because it would be shameful or impure, but because it is sacred and mysterious. In the liturgy, the chalice is veiled; the ciborium and the tabernacle are covered with a veil when they contain the Real Presence. Silence is an acoustic veil that protects the mystery. Do we not automatically lower our voice to say the most important things, words of love? In the past, in the Latin liturgy, the very mysterious words of the Canon and of the consecration, pronounced submissa voce [in a low voice], were draped in a veil of silence.

  243. In his Apostolic Letter Orientale Lumen, Saint John Paul II writes this magnificent line: “This mystery is continuously veiled, enveloped in silence, lest an idol be created in place of God.”

  There is a great risk that Christians may become idolaters if they lose the meaning of silence. Our words inebriate us; they confine us to what is created. Bewitched and imprisoned by the noise of human speech, we run the risk of designing worship to our specifications, a god in our own image. Words bring with them the temptation of the golden calf! Only silence leads man beyond words, to the mystery, to worship in spirit and in truth. Silence is a form of mystagogy; it brings us into the mystery without spoiling it. I understand why Thérèse of Lisieux wrote in her letter to Céline, dated October 14, 1890: “Virginity is a profound silence.” We must rediscover that reserve, that modesty, that virginal sense, that silent delicacy in order to approach the holy mysteries of the liturgy, the great mysteries of theology.

  Let us learn to keep silence even in the midst of suffering. Today there are many who howl with the wolves to defend a view of the liturgy, of which they want to be the sole custodians; these ideologues noisily immolate on the altar of their idols those whom they consider reactionary. God willing, may their idols breathe in the sweet-smelling aroma of their sacrifice. . .

  It seems to me that silence veils the mysteries, not to hide them, but to reveal them. The mysteries can be uttered only in silence. Thus, in the liturgy, the language of the mysteries is silent.

  Nevertheless God speaks, but his speech, too, is a mystery. . .

  244. In his beautiful book A New Song for the Lord, Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger recalled: “Wherever God’s word is translated into human words there remains a surplus of the unspoken and unspeakable which calls us to silence.” God reveals himself, but our human words fail to express his immensity, depth, and mystery. He forever remains beyond our words. And how small God would be if we understood him!

  I realize that theologians study this mystery and translate into human words the results of their research. But these words will be tolerable only if the study of them is rooted in silence and leads to silence. Otherwise, they will become vain chattering. Theology must rediscover a contemplative language. By adopting the ways of the secular sciences, exegetes and theologians run the risk of straying far from the mystery of God’s Word. “Though we speak much we cannot reach the end, and the sum of our words is: ‘He is the all’ ”, Scripture says (Sir 43:27).

  245. In order to speak about God, it is necessary to begin by keepi
ng quiet. I am thinking here about preachers, too. A homily is not a summary of theological knowledge or of exegetical interpretations. Priests, who are marked with the priestly character, are thereby in a way the mysterious instruments of the Word of God. The homily is therefore strictly reserved to men who have been invested with the sacred order of priests and deacons; it cannot be delegated to laypersons, not even to the most competent. Essentially this is not about any academic competence or a profession: “For the lips of a priest should guard knowledge, and men should seek instruction from his mouth” (Mal 2:7; Titus 1:7-9; 1 Tim 3:13), Scripture says. The words in a homily are not a lesson; they are the echo of the words of the Master as he taught on the roads of Galilee. And so priests must prepare their homilies in the silence of prayer and contemplation.

  246. In a discussion of the liturgy, Cardinal Ratzinger was not afraid to assert:

  If we do not understand the place of silence, we run the risk of bypassing the Word of God, also. Therefore we must enter into this depth of silence in which the mystery greater than all human words is communicated. This step is essential. . . . God is above all the great silence. It is necessary to escape the multiplication of words in order to rediscover the Word. If there is no silence by which to enter into their depth, the words themselves become incomprehensible. And the liturgy, the presence of the great mystery of God, must therefore be also the place where we have the opportunity to enter into the depths of our souls.

  Before the depth of the mystery of God, Saint Augustine writes in his Expositions on the Psalms, we experience the limitations of words. And so we rejoice wordlessly. We cannot name the ineffable God: “If you cannot tell him forth in speech, yet ought not to remain silent, what else can you do but jubilate? In this way the heart rejoices without words and the boundless expanse of rapture is not circumscribed by syllables”, the Holy Doctor says.