Blue Ink News

There are two Latin phrases that have been rattling around in my head lately.

Sacrum Silentium.

Sacred Silence.

I know that silence well. It is the quiet that comes after Communion, when the singing has ended and the congregation settles back into its seats.

For a few moments, nobody needs anything from me.

There is no place I need to go. Nothing I need to accomplish. No clever thought I need to have.

Just silence.

And Christ.

Then there is another phrase:

Silentium Magnum.

The Grand Silence.

I won’t tell you where I learned that phrase. Some things are better left where they belong.

But the words themselves have stayed with me.

The Grand Silence.

It sounds larger than ordinary silence. Not merely the absence of talking, but the kind of silence that makes you aware of how much noise you normally carry around with you.

We are not very good at silence anymore.

If the room gets quiet, we reach for our phones. If the car is quiet, we turn on the radio. If our minds get quiet, we find something else to think about.

We seem to believe that silence is an empty space that needs to be filled.

But perhaps silence isn’t empty at all.

Perhaps it is a place.

A place where we can sit for a while without trying to fix anything.

A place where we can listen.

A place where God doesn’t have to compete with us.

I wonder if that is why the silence after Communion has always seemed different to me.

It isn’t an interruption in the Mass.

It is part of the Mass.

The words have been spoken. The bread has been broken. Christ has been received.

And then comes silence.

Sacred Silence.

Maybe there are moments in life when we need something even greater.

A Grand Silence.

Not because God has stopped speaking, but because we have finally stopped talking long enough to listen.

— RN