Silence

The Father uttered 

only one Word

Which was His Son

This Word speaks always 

in eternal silence

And in silence is to be heard 

by the soul.

St. John of the Cross

Today, the feast of St. John of the Cross, was our monthly Day of Adoration at the little chapel near Emmanuel Hermitage.  


We start the Day with an early celebration of the Eucharist which is followed and prolonged by 12 hours of silent prayer before a Host consecrated during mass. People come in and kneel or sit for a few minutes in the silence; most remain for one hour, some for two hours, or even more.  

This prayer time in shared silence is powerful. 

Jesus shows and hides himself to us in the silence of the Host, in a presence so humble and simple that only faith can see Him. 

Each person present in prayerful silence is a witness to their faith, a witness to the Mystery that hosts us in that sacred space, and also a witness to the mystery that we each one are. 

Shared silence is as powerful as it is fragile; it is born when and where there is not only a silent atmosphere but also when everyone present embraces it by giving and receiving simultaneously the gift of prayerful silence in a form of shared intimacy. 

It would take only one person to break the silence of all others present as we see it often happen in our parishes. This is how fragile it is.

Silence has many dimensions and levels, so many that in a way the whole spiritual journey can be considered a journey into deeper and deeper silence.

The first and most obvious level of silence, and the easiest to reach even though not easy, is external silence, which is the absence of words, of music, and of every sound and noise that can be avoided. 

External silence is an avenue that can put us directly in touch with our inner world, which has its own noises and conversations. To bring those inner voices to quiet is the work of a further and much more challenging level of silence that is, actually, as challenging as rewarding because this takes us to the realm of contemplation. 

In the silence of plans, insights, expectations,  concerns, reflections, judgments, guilts, anxieties  ...  we can let go of everything and dwell in Faith, in a wordless, obscure, and paradoxical knowledge that, when we remove the layers that make up our lives, we come face to Face with Mystery in us and around us. And there we know that we don't know, and it's OK.

This encounter with Silence in the sanctuary of our inner silence may seem useless, a waste of life and time (here is again 'judgment' destroying silence) but in Faith we know that it is the most productive idleness if we allow it to be, if we allow Mystery, the Source of everything, to be and pray in us.

We don't create the Silence that dwells in us, but we can create the doorway to it with our inner silence, by letting go of our personal noise. This is the role of some forms of prayer like centering prayer, which is an exercise on befriending silence and quiet in ourselves by not responding to the noises knocking at the door of our inner sanctuary. Centering prayer is not contemplation, but it is a doorway to contemplation. 

Consecrate yourself to the silence of 

Pure Love.

                                    M. Maria Celeste - Dialog IX      

Divine Feeder

Deer have been frequent visitors during our mild Fall season this year, especially at dusk.


A favorite spot for them is the little shrine of Our Lady of Grace on the north side of the Hermitage where, during summer, they feast with the flowers at her feet.

Now that winter has settled spreading a white garment over the landscape, deer have been around again leaving lots of prints in the snow.

In recent days they haven't come anymore to this spot, probably because they have very little to feast on here and they keep moving on searching for food in other places.


A week ago a friend explained to me that deer need salt, and brought a block of salt to be strategically placed by the shrive.









Apparently deer can smell the salt so this blue brick is meant to lure them into the area where a feeder is also waiting for them with nourishing and favorite seeds - all courtesy of the same good friend.

More than a week later the deer have not yet discovered or touched the salt or the feeder.

And yet I've seen deer prints even inside the carport of the Hermitage where they have taken good care of the few seeds fallen from the bird feeder.

This is puzzling because the prints show that they have been as close as three feet from their own feeder without noticing or using it.

This little feeder story makes me reflect on the Divine Feeder that God has set for us as the nourishment for our Journey home.

At the Incarnation, Emmanuel [God-with-us] is put to lie on a manger [feeder] in Bethlehem [House of Bread].

How, when do we come to the Divine manger to feed our deepest hunger?

How do we pray for our daily Bread during this season of Advent when we prepare anew for the Birth of Christ in us and in the world?

The Memorial of Christ death and resurrection, the Eucharist, is made from a piece of ordinary bread.

Christ is always waiting for us as the Bread of Life on the table of the Eucharist.

We can eat Divine Life in holy communion every time we attend mass.

We can feed ourselves through prayer from the Bread gathered in the tabernacle of our churches or exposed for prayer and adoration.

Jesus is there, day and night, waiting for me, for each one of us, calling me by name, expecting and waiting to give His very Self and Life to me.

How come that I am oblivious to the Divine Feeder?

Where do I go to satisfy my hunger? What do I feed myself with?