An invitation to be still

The French philosopher, Blaise Pascal, once wrote:

I have often said that the sole cause of man's unhappiness is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room [Source]

[..j’ai dit souvent que tout le malheur des hommes vient d’une seule chose, qui est de ne savoir pas demeurer en repos dans une chambre].

Remaining silent for even a few minutes seems harder than ever in an age of constant digital distraction and social media. Yet if we were to set aside just ten minutes each day for silence - whether alone or in the company of others who are likewise silent - we might begin to cultivate a habit that would serve us well. If we were then to integrate this practice into

Silence and listening

How might our parish churches look like in 2050 #6

It seems to me that people hunger, thirst, and cry out inwardly simply to be heard — by someone, anyone, at some moment, in some way. A lack of opportunity, space, or means to be listened to lies at the heart of many personal and societal wounds. We carry so much within us, and often we do not even know the half of it.

Silence

 

Silence is increasingly rare in the noisy, fast‑moving spaces where we work, socialise, and even worship. Noise has its place when it carries good conversation, shared purpose, or lively activity. But it becomes a burden when we grow dependent on it—when every pause must be filled, every gap bridged, every quiet moment avoided.

Our liturgies, too, have become crowded with words. Jesus cautioned against multiplying words in prayer, yet the way we engage in Holy Mass often leaves little room for stillness. We feel compelled to speak – aloud or inwardly – and we hurry to fill every space. In doing so, we risk losing the eloquence of silence.