Venturing into Silence: A Counter-Cultural Risk



Silence paralyzes modern man.

Take out the iPod ear buds, turn off the cell phone, unplug the television, and we just might be able to hear it &#0151 that crippling hush that frightens us. As Henri Nouwen writes in Reaching Out, “When we have no project to finish, no friend to visit, no book to read, no television to watch… and when we are left all alone by ourselves we are brought so close to the revelation of our basic human aloneness and are so afraid of experiencing an all-pervasive sense of loneliness that we will do anything to get busy again and continue the game which makes us believe that everything is fine after all.”

Silence paralyzes us because it is during times of silence that we are most often reminded of our deep-seated loneliness. Thus, we avoid something superficial in order to avoid something more visceral. But why does loneliness repeatedly accompany silence?

The loneliness comes from a void within us. It is like a deep hunger or desire. C.S. Lewis said that for every desire there corresponds something that can fulfill it. We hunger, there is food. We lust, there is sex. We are lonely, there is company. But human company does not seem to dispel all loneliness. It does not fill us in the way food fills our stomach. Human company provides only part of the meal, like an appetizer. Why? Because we were created to be in the all-fulfilling company of God. Yet Adam and Eve sinned, and that relationship was severed.

Our deepest longing now is to restore that relationship, to end the loneliness. Despite our innate knowledge of this, we have not wholeheartedly embraced it. That is why in the quiet we become children &#0151 with little defense to the startling realities that surround us. We do not fully understand why the world is as it is, and that mystery looms over us. It is an intimidating feeling not to fully understand the answers to life’s profound questions: Where did I come from? Why am I here? What will happen when I die? So we seek others for answers to these great questions. And we hope that the answers will salve the loneliness.

The quickest and most palatable answers come from pop psychologists and pop culture. All we need to do is plug our ear phones back in or flip on the TV and the “experts” will tell us what we want to hear. Yet deep down we know these answers are like cotton candy. They are sweet for a moment, but then dissolve an instant later. And we are left wanting something more substantial.

But if we remain hungry for a solution to loneliness, it is not because we lack access to something that will fill us. In fact, God has given us unlimited access to spiritual food and spiritual drink. If we remain hungry, we do so because we choose to starve ourselves. We refuse to feed ourselves on quiet reflection and instead choose to gorge on senseless clamor.

Noiselessness is so unsettling because a place without noise is like a room without light; and we are afraid of the dark, terrified of the answers that might pounce on us. We dread them because they cast doubt on what the “experts” of secular culture have taught us. And we like what they’ve taught us &#0151 we are to live life as we see fit. After all, pure love is so esoteric. Instant sensual gratification is much more tangible. Humility does not reward. Pride brings attention. These answers to the questions of life are attractive. They do not even require a change of action. The other answers, however, are scary because they conjure up notions of objective moral standards, accountability for actions, and, most frighteningly, an eternal God. What makes them even more foreboding is that they seem to well up from the very depths of our soul.

Yet the “expert” responses give us a sense of instant fulfillment. They are like music to our ears, so we plug in the iPod again and turn up the volume. We’ve discovered a passing panacea.

Deep down, though, we are reminded that pop culture’s company is superficial. It never engages us in a meaningful manner. Nouwen reflects, “Our world is full of empty chatter, easy confessions, hollow talk, senseless compliments, poor praise, and boring confidentialities.” Thomas Merton, a monk, knew this well. In his book, The Springs of Contemplation, he explains how the more he drew himself out of the world, the better he understood it. The less he listened to what it offered, the clearer its proposition became. He drew out of the world and nearer to God.

It is this very action that tempts us to outgrow our immaturity. Do we dare move away from shallow comforts toward the true Comforter? If so, we begin the journey from “loneliness to solitude.”

We are to examine our loneliness, and realize that the Lord is the ultimate comfort. At the same time, we acknowledge that only in heaven will the desire for perfect company be filled, while on earth the Lord’s company brings us closest to that heavenly state. This divine knowledge equips us to see our loneliness not as a field to be abandoned, but as a spiritual garden to cultivate into solitude.

Solitude of heart enables us to hear the voice of the Lord, even when noise surrounds us. We can learn from Samuel, who was still a child when he heard the voice of the Lord. By living in the temple, a place of hushed reverence, Samuel learned to be quiet before God’s presence. But we need not live in a temple to realize Samuel’s deep peace. We need only to drown out the incessant chatter of today’s culture, and move from “the restless senses to the restful spirit, from the outward-reaching cravings to the inward-reaching search, from the fearful clinging to the fearless play.” Our inner solitude, our knowledge of an eternal comfort, endows us with true peace. Our souls find the eye in the storm.

The journey from loneliness to solitude, then, begins by taking the risk of venturing into silence. It is both counter-intuitive and counter-cultural. Yet it makes perfect sense to a God who loves to speak in whispers to make sure we are listening.

So beware the church that prioritizes entertaining its members with a “relevant” mix of loud music, amusing skits, and video clips. Beware the need to keep a television in the car, the bedroom, and the bathroom (a place of solitude if there ever was one). Beware a culture that teaches us to avoid meaningful conversation by putting on our headsets whether on the subway, shopping for groceries, or eating in a restaurant.

And the next time we’re tempted to pop in those ear phones, let’s instead embrace solitude. Only then will we be able to come before the Father and receive words of wisdom to shatter the silence, comfort to dispel the loneliness, and a peace that passes all understanding in the midst of solitude.

Joshua Birk is a Wilberforce Forum intern, working as an editorial assistant with BreakPoint Online. He is a philosophy major at the University of Michigan. He really wants an iPod, but instead embraces solitude on the way to class.

(This update courtesy of the Breakpoint.)

Subscribe to CE
(It's free)

Go to Catholic Exchange homepage

MENU