THE SOUNDING SILENCE, SILENT MUSIC

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Silence of Pallotti House Chapel
A state of acute unworthiness! This is how I felt as I entered the chapel for morning prayer. Alone. Alone with the One, such is the definition of what a monk is. A man who is alone with the One. I am a monk then in that sense.

It has been a lifelong fantasy of mine, to be a Cistercian monk in a monastery with all the Trappist trappings. I even asked Chatgpt to paint me a picture of me as a monk and that is what you have above. A fantasy. Not meant to be in the physical sense but it is there spiritually within me and I am living it now in that way. Thank God.

In the chapel on the morning in question, there came to me again that silence, that incredible, absolute silence that is physical as well as everything; physical in that it inhabits the place, enfolding and filling me, so that I can only think that it is the Divine Silence, the Silence of Mercy.

The little Chapel is filled with it. The very air itself is not only soundlessly silent, but it is silence in essence. The place has become silence. As Jacob discovered, 'How awe-inspiring this place is! This is nothing less than the abode of God, and this is the gate of heaven!' (Genesis 28:17)

Two phrases come to mind - The Sounding Silence and Silent Music - and I associate both of them with St. John of the Cross, though I later discovered that the first is related to the philosopher Martin Heidegger and has something to do with poetry. Unfortunately, he was associated with the Nazis until 1945 and rejected his Christian faith, so neither of these aspects endear him to me. The second is the title of a book by William Johnston SJ whom I read avidly when living in Tanzania. Not sure how much either of them have to do with John of the Cross, though the title of Johnston's book does come from but the Spiritual Canticle:

"My Beloved is the mountains, the solitary wooded valleys, strange islands, roaring torrents...silent music, morning solitude."

These words resonate within me as strongly as ever and, though I am keenly aware of my disordered affections and wayward desires, they remain true within me. As St. Peter denied and loved Jesus in equal measure, so do I, but He is still the Beloved of my heart and soul, if not entirely of my body and mind.

The other poem that comes to mind is Love by George Herbert which has spoken to me since I was fifteen or sixteen years old. "Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back, guilty of dust and sin, but quick-eyed-love observing me grow slack from my first entrance in, drew nearer to me sweetly questioning if I lacked anything..."

It is the ebb and flow of the spiritual life that Love approaches and we draw back and are drawn in again and again.

Living in this place of absolute silence is an incredible blessing to me and I will treasure it for the few months left to me here. Between this and serving in Shankill I have the easiest of lives, having no responsibilities and not having to make decisions about anything.

I am making the best possible use of it as I am still so keenly aware of Hastings and how difficult the past six months have been for the people of the parish there. I am reliably informed that they will soon have their permanent new Pallottine parish priest and this will bring some relief.

Hastings is always on my mind and never far from my lips. Sometimes during Mass, the name Hastings comes to the tip of my tongue when speaking about things in Shankill. And I'm always seeing doubles of people from Hastings. Someone comes up for Holy Communion, and I see someone from over there. It happens on the street, on the bus, on the train. And I always pray for the one I am reminded of.

One of the other blessings given me here, a more serious and essential blessing, is that I am now near to two friends who are ill. I have time with them that I could not have if I were still away. We have time together. Precious time.

And I believe too that the Silence has taught me how to be with these two friends. To be present without fear or panic. Respectfully present. Lovingly so. Able to hear what is actually being said. Able to do nothing but that, and to pray. And to experience the blessedness of their presence, their friendship, their love. There is something so true and genuine about people in their suffering. They have helped me understand better the meaning of suffering, the ultimate expression of love that it becomes. I observe in each of them their union with Christ in His supreme demonstration of Love.

I would love to remain as part of all of this, to be part of the new life that is to be born here in this house of Silence, to remain with these two friends and to continue being near my family, especially my siblings. But it is not mine to decide and God has a plan that remains hidden and I am very happy to remain in this state of unknowing, because all any of us has is this moment. Nothing more, nothing less. It is the Sacrament of the present moment that I have aspired to all my adult life. Thanks be to God.

The Silence has also become part of the Mass and seems to be greatly appreciated by the people. In a world of noise, these brief moments of quiet bring blessings that might otherwise not be noticed.

Yesterday evening at Mass we prayed earnestly within these silences for a fifteen-year-old girl who had gone missing. We prayed through the intercession of fifteen-year-old St. Carlo Acutis and it seems that while we were praying she was found in Paris. Thanks be to God again. We were not the only ones praying, of course, but our prayer was an essential part of the searching and the finding. Amen. 

May she be well now 🙏🙏🙏


An AI impression of me as a monk 😊


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