Road to Solebury, Daniel Garber

“[Q]uietness is absolutely necessary for spiritual growth under ordinary circumstances. There are sometimes brief tempests in the interior when we grow, like children in an illness. But these are eccentric phenomena. It is plain that quietness must be the prevailing atmosphere of an ascetic. We must be quiet in order to pray. Mortification must be quiet, or else it will be merely vehement nature, growing in fury as it grows in pain. Confidence in God must be quiet. The very word itself is full of the sound of rest. The receiving of the sacraments must be quiet. Noise and hurry would be simple irreverence. Our love of others must be quiet, else it will degenerate into earthly tenderness. In a word, there is hardly a function of the spiritual life which docs not require quietness for its exercise and fulfilment. Yet faults are universal, daily, in all subject matters, thought, word, deed, look, omission. They cover the whole surface of life incessantly; so that if we do not take them quietly, we shall never be quiet at all. This is so absurd a result, that it is as good as a demonstration that we must take our faults quietly.”

— Fr. Frederick William Faber, Growth in holiness; or, The progress of the spiritual life

— Comments —

Paul R. writes:

After my reversion 18 years ago I remember being at a typical NO Sunday service, which is irritating on many levels, and it dawned on me there is no silence in the entire service.

Every second was occupied by noise, either the priest praying all the prayers of the consecration out loud, or the crappy music, or the constant need for the entire congregation to make the responses, down to the organist, or more likely piano player, fiddling the keys until the very last second of the communion service.

I would have given my right arm for some pure, unadulterated silence.  But, not to be.

Quite intentional I’m sure.

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