Seventh Sunday of Easter (A): Acts 1:12-14
“Interior noise makes it impossible to welcome anyone or anything.” – Pope Francis
Preachers often find the Seventh Sunday of Easter a challenging one. By now, they have already used their favorite Easter themes in their homilies. Moreover, this isn’t a day when much appears to be happening. We have just celebrated Ascension, and now we look forward to Pentecost. In our first reading, from the Acts of the Apostles, the first Christian community has gathered in the upper room in Jerusalem for prayer. No brainstorming or strategizing sessions; no lively discussions of how best to fulfill the Lord’s mandate to bring the Gospel to all nations. They are gathered together, in one accord, in prayer. No one speaks or does anything else in our first reading. We are in an in-between time, or so it seems. In other words, it is a time of waiting in silence.
We do not like waiting, even though we do a great deal of it in our lives. Waiting is hard enough. But waiting in silence? This is almost unimaginable in today’s society. Waiting rooms are never silent. There is music in the background, or a TV blaring away, or some other exterior noise. The exterior noise may annoy some of us, but it offers us a distraction that we sometimes want, if we are honest with ourselves. The exterior noise helps drown out our interior noise.
One reason why silence can be disturbing is that there is nothing out there to drown out our interior noise. What might interior noise be? Hopes, fears, temptations, desires, hurts, pre-judgments, anxieties, doubts – all the things we would call “distractions” when they happen as we try to pray. Not all of these are bad; some play an important role for us. Still, when we encounter ourselves like this, in exterior silence, it can feel quite unnerving to someone who is usually surrounded by exterior noise. Silence forces us to encounter ourselves as we are. This interior noise overturns our illusions about ourselves. We find that we are as needy, weak, and prone to temptation and sin as anyone else. As such, our interior noise has a role to play in our lives. It can humble us.
Nevertheless, whenever we want to welcome someone, we usually try (consciously or unconsciously) to tone down both the exterior and the interior noise. If someone important to you is coming for a visit, chances are you won’t have the TV blaring, or loud music in the background. You want to leave the impression that you want to hear what this person has to say. You also won’t keep busy with a dozen chores after the person arrives. You want to set aside time for that person, to value that person’s presence. If you must do something, you may invite the person to join you, so that your busyness isn’t an obstacle but actually becomes a means of bringing the two of you together. In all these ways, you are trying to still exterior noise in order to welcome this person.
What about interior noise? Well, you will want to put that aside, too, if you really want to welcome someone else. You won’t want to be distracted by worries or anxieties or difficult things in your life. Otherwise, you won’t be able to listen to the other person. You might even tell the other person about some of these things, so that they cease being distractions and become a means to being the two of you together. Welcoming someone and listening to that person requires a certain discipline. We create a space for that person through exterior and interior silence. We don’t try to achieve silence for its own sake – though in a noisy world, silence can be delicious – but for the sake of the other person.
It works much the same in our relationship with the Lord. If we truly wish to welcome him and listen to him, we need to create a space of both exterior and interior silence, as much as possible. We may not be monks, but yet we can still create this welcoming space for the Lord. This is necessary because we need hear the Lord so that we can follow his will. We need to welcome the Lord’s presence so that he can mold us into his own people and give us the ability to do his will. All of this the Lord does in silence.
In fact, some of the most important things happen in silence. Whatever may have been the experience of our parents beforehand, our conception in our mothers’ wombs happened in silence. Many life-changing insights and experiences of God happen in silence. Often, our most treasured memories of our loved ones are moments that happen in silence. Our death, too, is a moment of silence. Things that strike us with awe and wonder leave us speechless. It is in silence that we can best wait for the Lord, as by our silence we show the Lord hospitality. We show that we are ready to welcome him. We show that we know well that without him, we can do nothing. But, with him, all things are possible.
Let us return to that scene in the upper room in our first reading. Jesus has given his disciples a commission to spread the Gospel to all nations. But, he has also told them to wait in hope for the promised coming of the Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit who will guide them, empower them, direct and lead their efforts. These first Christians have been given a task that is humanly impossible. The apostles, once so sure of their own ability to follow the Lord, have been humbled by their own failures not very long before. They wait in silence and pray for the coming of the Holy Spirit. There is no more exterior or interior noise. They are not protesting that they can do the Lord’s mission already. They are ready to be led, to be filled. They have the Virgin Mary as a model and guide. She who throughout the Gospels maintains an interior, receptive silence. She who ponders all the events of her life, searching for the Lord’s will, offering herself as the handmaid of the Lord. Her presence and prayer help to stabilize and center the prayer of the entire community.
So it can be for us. One very good place to start is in looking at how we prepare for Mass and how we are at Mass. We gather at Mass to praise and worship God. We come to hear God’s word in the readings, and to hear about God’s word in the homily. We come to welcome the Lord Jesus himself into our own bodies and souls as we receive the Eucharist. We can best do all these things in an attitude of interior silence. We become aware of our weakness and sinfulness and our need for forgiveness and strength. We need God’s word to guide us. We need the Eucharist to feed and empower us. Do we go to Mass with all this in mind? Are we in a receptive space, waiting in silence for the Lord to come to us? How can we get into a receptive space?
One good way is this. Don’t go to Mass spiritually “cold”. Just as athletes need warm-up exercises before they compete, so a spiritual “warm-up” can help us prepare for Mass. It may be as simple as reminding ourselves of what we are about to do. We can read the Mass readings before we leave. We can spend a little time in prayer. This might be a good teaching moment for families. Once everyone is ready to go, take a few moments in prayer before you leave for Mass. You want to foster an attitude of waiting in silence and in hope for the Lord whom we are about to encounter in a very special way. Then, an attitude of reverent silence and openness at Mass is very important. Everything else can wait. We have come to celebrate the greatest gift we have received; indeed, the greatest love story ever. It’s all there for us, if we are open, silent, and ready to welcome it.
Silence in this sense is hospitality. It is our way of showing our openness to the Lord and our readiness to hear him and do what he has taught us. We may never achieve “perfect” exterior or interior silence – whatever “perfect” may mean. However, we can be sure that we are on the right track if everything – even a distraction – points us in the Lord’s direction and helps us welcome the Lord more completely.