The Eloquence of Silence

The Eloquence of Silence

Silence.

Amen. 

Jesus died and then there was a long, long silence. The silence of his death leaves us uncomfortably bewildered.  

Yesterday, during the March For our Lives, Emma Gonzales stood before the hundreds of thousands and myriads more on Television. She described in excruciating detail the death of the 17; their names and their  “nevermore”.

Then there was a very long awkward and bewildering silence, like the silence in the aftermath of a school shooting.

When my dad died, it was Christmas. I was eight years old at the time. I was bewildered by his death and simply didn’t understand I would never see him again. When I went to bed at night there was nothing but silence. Long, long hours into the night, I cried myself to sleep afraid; “if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take”.

The Death of Jesus.

Death at Parkland.

My dad’s death.

The long, long bewildering Silence.

Christians still March for our Lives showing forth Jesus’ death until he comes again.

Young people March for our Lives until the adult world hears them and protects them from violent death.

I Marched on for my own life, wondering if I would ever see my dad again.

To this very day, Christian folk March for our Lives around the globe with Palm Branches in their hands. I loved church palms when I was a child. I loved gathering with the church in the garden where we blessed the palms then marched around the block and into the holy place.

Years and years ago I marched for civil rights and an end to a senseless war.

And yesterday millions marched and myriads more on Television witnessed the dawning of a new day in American History.

And Emma stood there in silence, perhaps the most eloquent silence ever spoken in the history of American oratory. 

Years ago as a child, I cried myself to sleep in Silence as I prayed. There was no answer. Until one day on the way home from church I pulled a solitary leaf off an unkempt city hedge and pressed my thumb mindlessly into the girth of that leaf. As I looked down at the chlorophyll stain left of my thumbnail, I realized, that leaf gave its life for me and that’s when I heard it.

Something in my heart of hearts; no voices, just a sense within me seemed to say; “Don’t you know there’s a special place in my heart for the love of your dad!” It was then that I gave voice to what I heard in my heart; I spoke out loud. “Don’t you know there’s a special place in my heart for the love of your dad?”. 

Of course, I checked it our with my grandmother; who was the ultimate authority in theological matters in my young life. And so it came to pass that I decided to become a priest.

And to this day, I will tell all who will listen to me and many who won’t; “Don’t you know there’s a special place in God’s heart for you and those you love.? No exceptions. Period!”

There is a long, long bewildering Silence at the death of Jesus, or students at Parkland or my own father.

If you listen closely to the Silence, the Eloquence of God’s Voice will speak. But you must be still, absolutely still to hear The Voice of God. 

It speaks to us from the Cross.

It spoke to us yesterday in Emma’s Silence.

It spoke to me when I was a child on the way home from church one Summer Sunday. 

Be still and learn with me that the Silence has a Name.

I learned that the Name of the Silence is God.

I learned that the Name of the Silence is Jesus.

I learned that the Name of the Silence is The Holy Spirit.

Silence.

Amen. 

Fr. Paul