Even my loved ones stumble and mumble when attempting to tactfully end one of my phone monologues. My reputation is such that only the most naive political canvassers knock at my door for an opinion. Few will suffer me even as a volunteer.
Yet, neither personal rejection nor self-awareness has affected my attitude on speech. I was certain that somewhere, somehow, someway, someone must be benefiting from my verbal contributions. So you can imagine my horror when recently I nearly did lose my “gift” of speech with a most humbling revelation: Both my turning away from Christ several years ago and my return to Him were accomplished with very few words — a total of five, in fact.
My falling away from the faith was a long process. Nevertheless, inherent to it, following a very serious error in the commission of false love, I turned to a priest for absolution. Though it was years ago, I distinctly remember trembling inwardly in anticipation of condemnation. This was a mortal sin. Instead, I received the words of the nouveau American Church: “Those things happen.”
Granted, no one can lay entire blame for fifteen years of spiritual failure on three words. However, those three words merely reinforced me for further sins — sans guilt. Like so many Catholics, even today, I had wrongly imagined the Church and God as separate entities.
One, the Church, was a repressively outdated political machine; the Other, Real. At the time, in my own mind, I was intellectually gratified that at least a few Church representatives were approaching Reality. That was my problem. I was depending on a mere human mind — worse, my own. So, while I respected the Church and her rules, I began living within a self-made religion: God loves me … period.
I don't know if it was the death of my brother or the birth of my second son, but something triggered my return to the Faith. Certainly, my parents' prayers were continuous. They knew my mouth better than anyone. They were also primary witnesses to my sinful life.
At first, though, I was content to simply talk (is that a surprise?) about my Faith with a close neighbor and pray at home. Being married to a divorced man negated my full embrace of the Faith, especially Sacramentally. My first son was already baptized and I was confident my second would be eagerly received as well.
He may have been with a different set of parents.
The pastor insisted that at least one parent be an active participant in the Faith, attend Mass, and so forth. In spite of my renewed fervor, I was half-convinced that the absence of the Sacraments doomed my soul. I countered with this argument: “Why waste the hour?”
Then the pastor said two words which changed the course of my spiritual life: “Everything counts.”
Five words. My soul had gone to Hell and back (well, almost back, I hope) on five words. Then I considered the fate of my Faith. Relatively few words convey its essence. Consider the Bible among all of history's written works: Jesus' Christ's direct quotations comprise only a fraction of even the New Testament. Too, how profound is the simply stated, “I am,” Amen, “It is finished,” “Peace be with you,” and on and on I could go … believe me!
How true that actions speak louder than words. Jesus Christ was the Perfect Model in that regard. Moreover, even as the Word made Flesh His silence spoke louder than any and all uttered words in all time.
But, have I learned my lesson? I recently immersed myself in Fulton Sheen's The Life of Christ. Exquisitely written, the holy man's text internally revitalized Christianity for me. Yet, just recently I was extremely agitated over human affairs, the frustration growing like weeds in my soul.
My mouth could be still no more. Even while my mouth was running, an inner voice called to me: “Didn't you learn anything from The Life of Christ?” After intensely reading over four hundred pages, I would think something would have stayed with me.
The voice responded in soft rebuke. It capsulized the entire book's message in only two words: “Suffer sweetly.”
(This article originally appeared in Canticle magazine. For subscription information please go to www.canticlemagazine.com.)
(To read more about the Still Small Voice click here.)
