Sound and Silence

In silence, there is fullness. In the retreat center, silence in the hallways was an extension of hospitality. In Buddhist monasteries, meals are shared in silence with the intention that you are fully attentive to the people with whom you are sharing the meal. In the Quaker tradition, there is freedom given to speak or not speak, but silence is room-giving, creating space for people to recognize the Holy Spirit.

In studying “church and music”, I recognize the irony of focusing on silence, the absence of music, but the practice of silence in worship intrigues me. Paul Westermeyer explains the analogy of Eastern liturgy (the form of public worship) being “seen as related to the regal court in which time is unhurried.” He writes in Te Deum,

“One does not rush into the presence of the ruler of the universe….”

In contrast, “Western liturgy can be seen as related to the legal court where time and juridical action are of the essence.” The West has a preoccupation with brevity that is not just a phenomenon of modernity.

Wrapped up in this reflection are more questions:

• What are we losing when we fill our environment constantly with sound?

• What does being present with others mean if silence reflects attentiveness?

• How is silence welcoming?

• In worship, how do we balance the gift of silence with the Word and music?