Autumn invites silence. The sun rises late and sets early. Trees shed their leaves and prepare for their wintry rest. Critters stock up on food, anticipating lean months. Night, cold, and slowness take center stage in nature’s realm. Silence stands besides them.
Autumn also invites us to silence. Electric lights, cars, telephones, the internet can tend to hide our share in the autumn stillness. Our impatience, love of chatter, and fear of solitude obstruct it even more. And yet, if we are attentive, we’ll hear our hearts clamor for quiet.
There’s more to silence than mere noiselessness. It means being single-minded, present to what’s before us. It means listening and accepting the narrow limits of our words. Silence can be terribly uncomfortable. Sitting with it can reveal the scattered, raucous thoughts jumbled in our hearts. But sitting quietly also gives us the chance to untangle them.
Silence becomes especially meaningful when it is shared among friends. Walking under a starry sky or sitting at home by a fire, friends don’t need to exchange words all the time. Their mutual presence speaks of love. The friend makes silence more palatable, even profoundly desirable. Lived with a friend, silence reveals the beautiful harmony that underlies the sounds of nature, society, and our hearts.
Pope Saint John Paul II experienced this silence even in crowded Saint Peter’s Square on the day of his inauguration. Seeing his Polish friends, he said:
What shall I say to you who have come from my Krakow, from the See of Saint Stanislaus of whom I was the unworthy successor for fourteen years? What shall I say? Everything that I could say would fade into insignificance compared with what my heart feels, and your hearts feel, at this moment.
So let us leave aside words. Let there remain just great silence before God, the silence that becomes prayer. I ask you: be with me!
Let us find time to leave aside words this autumn. Let great silence remain, a silence shared with God, our Friend.
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Image: Picabia, Autumn Effect
