“And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.” This is said of the three friends of Job when they came to comfort him (Job 2:11ff). I have long been moved by reflection on their response to the situation. Their silence is more than speechlessness in the face of horrendous suffering. It is a compassionate and powerful communication of sincere commiseration with Job. It is an expression of holy fear. They bow in silent reverence before the powerful and inexplicable hand of God that has touched Job. It is a wordless prayer: “For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him come my salvation” (Ps 62:1).

Noteworthy here is the amount of time that was passed in this way, seven days and seven nights. There is no impatience in this silence. Job and his three friends were not preoccupied with what they would do next, because they knew that in keeping this silence they were already doing something. Following the attacks on September 11th there were many “moments of silence” kept for the victims. Sincere as this gesture may have been, a moment is probably not long enough to constitute a true parallel. On the other hand, we can be thankful that it does not usually take a whole week of silence for it to be grace filled and fruitful. This kind of silence is more than a pause. It must be given sufficient time to deepen and mature. 

The silence of Job’s three friends as has been on my mind again the past several months. I thought of it in the late spring as I stood by the bed of my father after the disastrous heart surgery, which eventually took his life. Again this fall it came to mind as I spent a week with my sister shortly after she had undergone a bone marrow transplant and was suffering the unpleasant side effects of the harsh chemotherapy. In both cases I had brought along things to read and hospitals nowadays seem to have TVs everywhere. But I had no desire to entertain myself. I felt I was witness to and participant in a great and momentous drama in the life of my loved ones. I had more than enough to do to “read” these events in silence, and I was more than willing to dedicate an extended amount of time to this. 

These experiences have deepened my appreciation for the Christian practice of silent prayer and meditation especially as it is stressed in the monastic tradition. There is a silence that is discerning and full of light and awe and time does not oppress. One becomes intensely aware of the present moment lived between individual heartbeats and breaths. There is a keen awareness of the irreplaceable value of each moment and each event in the unfolding of salvation history, which is the only reality there is. Jesus Christ is Lord of this moment and that conviction shuts the mouth and silences, at least for a time, the racing thoughts and desires of the heart. In the Book of Revelation when the Lamb opens the climactic seventh seal we are told without further elaboration, “there was silence in heaven.”

Insightful silence like this can and should be a part of our celebration of the coming Christmas season. We quite rightly associate this season with the sounds of music and rejoicing and with the animated conversation and laughter of friends and family. The carols of Christmas urge us to hearken to herald angles and to be joyful and triumph. Yet at the same time our Christmas lore indicates that there is a great and mysterious stillness about the event itself. The night is not only holy but silent as well. The little town of Christ’s birth lies in deep sleep as “silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given.” At least in my own imagination, the figures gathered about the crèche are in silent adoration; no Christmas carols or casual conversation is to be heard in the stable itself. At the heart of Christmas the healing silence of heaven stills and calms everything. The festive music of this season, even that of the angels, is meant to bring us to this silent place and then be stilled. 

If we are willing, there is time to find and enter this silent center of Christmas. The Octave or Week of Christmas extends from Christmas Day to New Year’s Day, inclusive. It is treated in the Church’s prayer as if these eight days were one prolonged Christmas Day. The silent and holy night of Christmas Eve has more hours than most people think, and the stable may be revisited at less crowded times. There is opportunity to share more than one Christmas Day dinner. There is time to sing the beautiful hymns of Christmas, especially those that have not already been worn out by the popular media. There will also be time to sit in silence and wonder and to seek out the quiet inner chamber of Christmas where the true Light is still coming into our world through the portal of hearts willing to receive Him.

Jesus Christ is the one Word the Father spoke in the profound silence of the holy night. May the grace of the Church’s sacramental commemoration of the incarnation enable us to hear the Father’s great Word with new clarity.

Sincerely,  
Fr. Richard G. Herbel