Holy Silence - May 13

Today’s Readings: Matthew: 22:41-46

I’m digging for something in this reading from Matthew.  Today’s Gospel is just a few short verses.  What fascinates me most is the ending. “No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.” The religious leaders are left in silence.  And the reading makes it feel like the silence isn’t going to be broken anytime soon. 

And maybe that silence is not failure, but a gift.

I’m in the chapter of my life where my children are especially intuitive and creative.  Both of my children (ages 12 and 14) have created pretty nuanced arguments about why their parents should let them have social media. Anne and I feel strongly about waiting as long as we can, hopefully holding out until 16.  When I argue back, the conversations usually snowball into some resentment from my children and frustration on my part.  Sometimes answers don’t actually make the situation better. 

If you are reading this reflection, my guess is you are someone attuned to the rhythm of the liturgical calendar, to the way scripture shapes our days and slowly forms our hearts in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We are now nearing the end of the Easter season, and tomorrow the Church celebrates the Feast of the Ascension, when Christ ascends into heaven forty days after Easter.

There is something fitting about reading this Gospel on the eve of the Ascension. Jesus leaves his listeners speechless. Tomorrow, he will leave his disciples staring into the clouds. In both moments, people encounter a reality larger than their understanding.  And they are left without answers, on their own to figure it out, and to write the next chapter. 

Maybe there is something holy in the silence, in the wondering, in trying to make sense of it all. Personally, I am beginning to suspect that this is one of the ways faith is formed. Not by having every answer neatly resolved, but by learning to remain open in the presence of mystery.

The disciples will soon discover that the Ascension is not abandonment. Christ’s absence will become another kind of presence. But first comes the waiting, the silence, the looking upward without certainty about what comes next.

Maybe that is true for us too. Some seasons of life cannot be argued through or solved with the right words. Sometimes we are simply invited to trust that God is still at work, even in the silence, even in the unanswered questions, even in the space where we are learning what it means to walk by faith.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: When have you discovered that silence, listening, or presence was more healing than having the right answer?