// Marianna Schmiesing //

I love the mystery and secrecy of sneaking into churches. I snuck into churches across Europe, finding small, quiet adoration chapels. A rendezvous with God. And there—silence.

There are many books and articles about silence, most of which I have not read, and so I may, unintentionally, say many unoriginal things in this post. But here we go.

I always thought that, since I was introverted, I was comfortable with silence. But I’ve gradually learned that that was not true. 

I liked to listen to loud music, rejecting the idea that it was not a distraction from an interior disturbance, but rather forcing the outside world to match the crescendo of my interior life. And to an extent, that is true. I pick music based on my mood. But I should have listened more closely when the music grew louder and the lyrics grew more depressing. 

And then, once I think I’ve grown accustomed to quiet, I am placed next to another human being—and I am not at all comfortable with that silence. I think there has to be some sort of exchange, as being near people is already a momentous occasion for me. So I start talking, but it’s usually too intense, too deep, and just too much.

A few weeks ago, there was a silence in our own churches that reminded me of those empty chapels in Europe. Thankfully, the silence is starting to fill. But where can I find silence now?

Everything started to shut down right in the middle of Lent, and my Lenten sacrifices suddenly became irrelevant. To substitute, I stopped listening to music in the car. 

I’m not going to pretend as though that small change radically changed my life, but it was very helpful. I realized that I often look for ways to fill silence—whether through music or the Internet—so that I don’t have to face it—or any issues that the silences brings to light.

Silence is not just about decreasing sound. I can also lead a loud life by filling it too full or of things that don’t matter. And not only activities—a worried and stressed interior life also creates a lot of noise. I’m learning to pick and choose the things I can worry about, whether that’s in one day or over the course of the week. Don’t worry about all the things that need to get done; focus on what you can do.

I brought up the topic of silence with my spiritual director, explaining that adoration and prayer was often just a time to rest and be silent because I didn’t allow myself to rest in any other context. She said that silence was a need of mine. Not just for prayer, but for life as a whole. Finding true silence at other parts of my day would free up my prayer time so that I was open to conversations with God.

Silence requires sacrifice. Silence can’t always be found. But silence is a need for everyone.