It happened in church. The baptism was finished, the families had stopped taking their pictures, one by the baptismal font, one in front of the altar, one with extended family, one with just the family, one with the godparents, one with the grandparents... I stayed in the sacristy keeping busy, waiting for them to finish up. The church was noisy as everyone talked quite loudly, catching up, I suppose on events and news. Fifteen minutes passed, and then thirty. I lowered the lights, hoping they would get the hint to move on out of the church with their conversations. They finally did.
I locked up the church and came back inside. And there it was, the silence, the presence, the atmosphere I so loved in the monastery. And I wondered: why do we prefer to talk in church, to visit, to catch up? Why do we not want to experience the presence of God in the silence? It is so powerful....or is it?
Perhaps I first have to find the Presence in silence before I can appreciate the places of silence. Perhaps I have to experience the uselessness of words, the pit of unanswered prayers, the inability to find words, before I realize, I don't really need them to experience the Presence of the Divine One. I have to sit with that stillness forced upon me before I begin to realize, it carries Gift, it holds a Presence.
When I walked down the aisle of the church, everyone gone and the place quiet and still, the sun streaming through the stain-glass windows, I knelt down on one knee and bowed my head. I knew God was in this place.
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