1st Sunday of Lent (B) – February 18, 2024

St. Paul – Lyons, KS

Genesis 9:8-15; Psalm 25:4-9; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:12-15

GET ALL MATERIALS FOR “RECONNECTING…” INCLUDING HOMILY HANDOUTS, DEEPER DIVE VIDEOS, AND DISCUSSION GUIDES HERE.

The Secret Sauce? Silence

Last week was a sort of difficult week in “Reconnecting…”—and I understand that. I said some things that challenged a lot of the normal ways we think about and talk about prayer. Prayer isn’t just saying our prayers; prayer is God’s work, something God does, something God makes happen, to which I attend. So my part is a composure of heart, a vigilance, an attention. The distinction, if we want to be precise—the distinction is between “true prayer” and our “methods of prayer.” Prayer, true prayer, the experience of true prayer is something God does and God gives. A “method of prayer” (and there are 101 different methods)—a “method of prayer” is what I do on my end. To use a really, really bad analogy (which is the logo for “Reconnecting…”)—“true prayer” is like the internet: the internet is the reality; we don’t make it, we don’t “do” the internet; it just is. A modem, or a router, or a computer or phone is like our “method of prayer”; it’s how we tap into the interment. The internet is there, we need a way to get in touch with it. I hope that makes sense. But that’s the distinction we have to keep in mind. “True prayer” and our “methods of prayer.” So like the internet, prayer is all God—it just is. But on our end, we need a “router,” a method that allows the internet in—we need a practice of prayer, a method. Prayer is God’s work to which I attend. My part of that composure of heart.

But it’s so easy to fall back into the wrong mentality! “Just say your prayers.” That’s why today— today and next Sunday, as we begin this Lenten season, we need to talk about two vitally important things: silence and the prayer of the heart. These are critical. But once we get them, everything else will easily begin to fall into place. Today I want to focus on silence.

I’ve told you about Mother Teresa’s business card, right? The very first line: “The fruit of silence is prayer.” Silence is so often the missing ingredient. It’s the secret sauce! Lent especially is a time of silence. Because these 40 days are modeled after…? Jesus’ 40 days in the desert, exactly. I was talking to one of our parishioners, and he just mentioned how during his tour of duty, spending time in the desert at night—there is nothing as silent as the desert. I think of the prophet Elijah; he spent 40 days in silence, and when the angel of the Lord told him to go listen to God at the entrance of the cave, it wasn’t in the wind or earthquake or fire that he heard God, but in? “Sheer silence.” If we want an experience of true prayer, silence is the secret sauce. So today we want to answer just three simple questions, and then apply it in two practical ways.

What Do We Mean By “Silence”?

The first question is, “What do we mean by silence?” So I’m sure a few of you can relate, but one thing I noticed growing up is that when you’re sneaking into your house late, significantly later than your curfew (at least this is what my older brother told me—I was a good kid!)—but when you’re sneaking into your house significantly later than your curfew, every tiny creak in your steps through the house sounds like an atom bomb going off! Like, I had memorized every stair in my house—the exact precise spot you had to step to make the smallest creak possible. (And I love how we thought that we were so sneaky, and hardly made any noise at all. But like, if you’ve ever been in your bed when your sibling gets home a little late, you know how you can hear everything. There’s no sneaking!) Or one that I hate: the heat or AC is on, and then it shuts off and the house is just deathly quiet; and the ticking of a clock is unbearably loud. Anyone?

Ok. So when we talk about silence—“silence” usually means the absence of words and noise and sounds. Like, silence is when I shut off everything in life, cut myself off from the normal hustle and bustle. And sure, great, yes! But…but the silence we’re talking about, the silence the fosters an experience of prayer, the silence at the heart of God—it’s more. Silence isn’t just about shutting off and shutting up and shutting out noise, it’s not just cutting ourselves off. Silence is what allows us to see more deeply, to enter into the real more deeply. Silence allows us to attend. Like the prophet Elijah found out, the Lord spoke in sheer silence. It’s like a paradox! Fr. Thomas Keating became famous for saying, “God’s first language is silence.”

Think of it this way: any teachers in the room? Ok, full disclosure, I have terrible classroom management skills. But I did remember one thing. If kids are getting a little unruly, not listening, one thing you can do is…? Talk louder and louder? No. Start talking quieter and quieter, softer and softer. And suddenly the room quiets, because instinctively we respond in order to hear.

Ok, if God’s first language is silence, we will hear Him and experience true prayer in sheer silence. Silence is the secret sauce. Why? Because silence will magnify, amplify everything. Just like sneaking into the house, everything is magnified in silence. And so silence isn’t just cutting us off from noise, but even more than that, it’s entering into a place where we can attend to the realest of the real—ultimately, God Himself. (Have you ever been driving, and you start trying to read signs or house numbers, and you turn down the radio so you can see better? Exactly.)

Why Do We Avoid Silence?

So then why do we avoid silence? That’s the second question. “Why do we avoid silence?” If silence is the secret sauce, the key—why do seem to avoid it at all costs? Did anyone do their homework and watch the Lord of the Rings yet? So in first movie, the fellowship is on their quest, but at a certain point of their journey they have to make a choice: go under the mountains through the mines (like the salt mines), or go over the mountains. And initially, Gandalf wants to go over the mountains. Why? Because as we find out later, there is something hidden deep in the mines, a life-threatening enemy—the fire-breathing Balrog (I’m a nerd! I get it!). But I think it’s the same for us: we fear to enter into the depths of silence, because the depths of silence open up the depths of our heart, the “mines”—and for some of us that is an uncomfortable, dangerous place to be. 

One of my favorite bands is a band called Twenty One Pilots. And in one of their songs, they’re talking about how their car radio was stolen, and how now they have to drive in silence—and it’s painful. Why? Because, in their experience, “quiet is violent.” In silence, “there’s no hiding.” And the worst part? “I’m forced to deal with what I feel / There is no distraction to mask what is real / … there’s no sound to hide behind.” When I was in a different parish, I was visiting classrooms in the parish school and went into the seventh grade room. And (classic Fr. Michael) I was talking about the problem of the over-use of our phones for social media and Netflix. And they weren’t really paying attention until I said one thing. I said, “You know, most kids your age endlessly scroll on their phone and mindlessly watch Netflix so that they don’t have to feel their own feelings.” And when I said that, you could have heard a pin drop in the room. I could almost see the lightbulbs go off above their heads. But it’s not just seventh graders that use phones and media and TV and the radio and work and alcohol and on and on to not feel what they feel.

The silence reveals and amplifies what is already there. Remember, silence allows us to see more deeply, to enter into the real more deeply. But silence is uncomfortable because you’re going to run into yourself down there—and it’s there that everything you feel, that you distract yourself from, that you shoved down ages ago, that you told yourself you never had to think about, the nice walls you’ve built around your heart…it’s all there. In silence we encounter ourselves. And that can be terrifying. Whatever is in my heart, whatever you keep hidden in the dark—it gets exposed and magnified in silence. And I think that’s one of the biggest reasons why we don’t like silence: because we don’t want to have to deal with that.

But as Blaise Pascal said—a very famous 17th century French philosopher and mathematician, a Christian/Catholic man—he said, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit silently in a room alone.” So many problems would be solved, so many wounds would be healed, so much life gained—if we would enter into the silence.

Why Do We Need Silence?

This is precisely why we need silence. Question three: “Why do we need silence?” We need silence, silence is essential to our humanity, because when we enter into the silence, encounter our real self, then our real self can finally encounter God. God has no interest in your ego, he has no interest in all of the many masks you put on so you can tell yourself that life’s fine and you’re fine and there’s no fire-breathing Balrog down there. No. God’s interested in you. In silence, when we finally descend to the level of our heart, when we finally abandon all of the external stuff we are usually consumed in and return to ourselves, our true selves—silence allows encounter, especially in those places that are most in need. 

With great gentleness God arrives. And your anger doesn’t scare him. Your past doesn’t scare him. Your sins, your thoughts…none of that pushes him away! We choose to stay away. But we can also choose to return. Like the Prodigal Son, we can decide, “I will return to my Father.” And the Father is watching the horizon, hoping for our return.

This is done is silence, though. Without it, we remain trapped in the “outside” that Augustine talked about, “I was outside. It was there that I searched for you.” But what’s the secret? “You were within me.” Silence is how we get there. Elijah spent 40 days, 40 days walking to the cave. 40 days of silence. And then on day 40, after waiting through several other distractions, it finally came: sheer silence, and he heard God’s voice. Silence is the beginning of a true encounter with God. Silence allows for true prayer.

Two Practical Applications

Now, because this is so vitally important, we want to make this part of our practice of prayer: intentionally embrace the silence. So two practical applications will be helpful. The first is about how we pray the Mass, the second is about your own personal prayer.

Silence is an integral part of the Mass. I’ve told you before, I’m a horrible priest. And one of my many faults is that I have not placed enough silence in the Mass. The Church is very keen on silence during the Mass. In fact, the Church teaches us that one of the ways we actively participate in the Mass is by observing a “reverent silence.” Think of that: we think “participation” means saying more and doing more; but the Church says, actually, one important way to actively participate is to observe a reverent silence. The Mass isn’t something I make up; it’s a very carefully crafted gesture, rich in meaning and symbols and realities and mysteries. But one symbol of absolute importance: silence. Many times in the rubrics for the Mass, silence is explicitly called for. For instance: in the penitential act, after I say “Let us pray,” before the readings, between the readings, and after the homily, in the Eucharistic prayer, after communion. And again, the silence isn’t a time to just go introvert, cut ourselves off from reality, no; it allows us to enter the reality more deeply—it magnifies what’s going on. Silence is a symbol of the presence and action of the Holy Spirit. And so silence helps us attune to the action of the Holy Spirit, what the Holy Spirit is saying to us, doing within us. So moving forward, we’re going to observe these moments of silence more intentionally: before the collect; before the lector begins reading; before the Psalm; after the homily; after communion. And just like in our normal life, these moments of silence are going to be uncomfortable at first, awkward, “boring.” But silence is necessary. It allows for the experience of true prayer. So don’t waste it; enter into it.

The second practical thing has to do with our own personal practice of prayer. Last week we talked about having a daily practice of prayer, yeah? Four parts: a time, a place, a commitment, and something to nourish that time. One thing to do as part of that is to very intentionally enter into the silence. I put that on your handout this week, so I’m not going to go through it. But this practice of silence, of spending 10, 15, 20 minutes “doing nothing” but being—it will rock your world. I know it sounds a little looney, but don’t knock it until you try it.

A PRACTICE OF SILENCE

• Go to the place you chose for your prayer at your regular prayer time. Leave your phone in a different room. Set a timer for 10-15 minutes.
• Say, “Come Creator Spirit. Come through Mary.”
• Then sit up and sit still with your hands in your lap, up or down. Eyes closed (or open towards an icon or lit candle). Take slow, deep breaths (in through the nose, out through the mouth). Pay attention to the physical sensation of your breathing.
• Finally, Combine a prayer-word with your breathing. For example, “Jesus” or “Mercy.” Breathe in slowly and breathe out the prayer-word. Or, breathe in the first syllable (Je-), and exhale slowly the second syllable (-sus). Pay attention to your breath and prayer-word sitting still. 
• Whenever you find that your attention has been stolen by thoughts, simply bring your attention back to the breathing of the prayer-word. Do this until your timer goes off. Finish with a slow, “Glory be…”

So this is one method, but you should also find other ways to make silence a more integral part of your life: fast from technology (For example, the youth group is doing a challenge this Lent of not using their phone between 7-8pm. The NFL season is over; so you could say no TV on Sundays, put a blanket over the TV on Sundays.) Go for a walk without your phone—you’ll be shocked what comes up in your mind. Or, just go lay on the grass and look at the stars. 

Silence. Silence is the single most powerful method to an experience of true prayer. So often we do not experience prayer because we do not experience silence. Silence allows us to enter the real, magnifies what is most real. And even though we avoid it—for many different reasons—it is silence that will allow us an encounter with God. In the silence, in sheer silence, He is waiting to speak to you.