As part of Lent I've decided to participate in the Moved to Greater Love program. Though Lent doesn't officially begin till Wednesday, the meditations begin today. I'm going to try my best to journal about my experience, answering the reflection questions and writing about whatever else comes up during my prayers.
Today I feel a great need for silence. After a week of vacation spent in the constant presence of my family, and then a week of flustered return into the world of work and school, followed by a weekend full of visitors, I am ready for peace and quiet. I am moved by the Provincial's observation that silence gives us the opportunity to become ourselves. As an introvert I've always believed that introverts bear witness to the world's need for silence and solitude, and I feel most myself when I am alone and quiet.
I am touched by periods of silence and latency in the Scripture. The Scripture's silence with regard to Jesus' childhood and young adulthood, culminating in His own silence in the desert before beginning His public ministry. Mary's silent keeping of things in her heart. Paul's three-year period of silence after his "conversion" on the road to Damascus. I am drawn to the times when the Gospel speaks of Jesus "withdrawing," as in Luke 5:16: ipse autem secedebat in deserto et orebat. Even as people demanded to hear Him speak and asked Him to heal them, Jesus recognized the need to withdraw into silence for the purpose of prayer.
Yet there are two challenges I must confront in my own practice of silence. First is the question of the type of silence I'm engaging in. Is it a silence that still fills my mind with self-absorbed anxieties? Is it a silence that fills my soul with my own talk? Or is it truly a silence of openness, of emptiness, of leaving a space to be filled by God? Second is the temptation to remain in a comfortable silence, instead of allowing that silence to empower my action in the world. Does my silence bear fruit?
I can solve the first challenge by honestly answering the second. If my silence does not "set me on fire" for action in the world, it is probably not the right kind of silence.
Today I am struggling. I am frustrated and discouraged. I volunteer at a nursing home once a week, and I feel like I am useless there - that my presence doesn't matter. I teach CCD on Sundays, and today especially I felt that my efforts are hopeless: I'm not reaching the students, they couldn't care less what I have to say, it's pointless even trying to engage them. I feel tempted to give up, even though I know that these challenges are nothing compared to the challenges saints like Teresa of Avila or Vincent de Paul faced in their own lives.
I also know that my feelings of discouragement are born of selfishness. The thing is: my presence doesn't matter at the nursing home. Life there would go on without me, as it went on before I ever came along. "Make a difference" is what the world tells us to do, but is that really the most important thing? Certainly it's not more important than simply doing what is right and what is good. What matters is not the difference that I am making, but rather the inherent value of obedience, of charity, of self-sacrifice.
When I think of my CCD class, I try to remember Christ among stubborn and ignorant humanity. How frustrated must He have felt, unable to reach the hearts of His listeners! Yet again, what matters is not my feeling of helplessness, but rather my cooperation with the will of God. Can I use my feeling of helplessness as a call to humility - as a reminder that I really don't matter, what matters is God's presence in the lives of my students?
Right now I feel confused about myself. Confused about my own sinfulness - I don't even know where to find the root of it to pull it out. There are layers and layers of weeds in my soul; it seems exhausting and daunting to even begin the task of sorting them. I want God to come and burn the whole contaminated harvest, so to speak, and let me start over. Perhaps that is what Lent can be for me this year.
I pray for the grace to handle my distractions with a loving spirit. When I am reading and my son has a question, I usually snap at him. When I am writing and my husband asks what I am doing, I usually answer out of frustration. I do not like being distracted when I'm trying to "withdraw." So how do I honor my own need for silence without being unloving to those who need me? I know that Jesus "withdrew" in order to pray. But how do I know if I am "withdrawing" from others for God's sake, or for my own? I pray for God to guide me in these moments.
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