A Loving Silence

Contemplative prayer beholds the goodness of God until the whole person breaks out in praise. In this prayer, the fullness of divine truth and eternal love flow into the heart. With this divine inflow, manifold gifts are freely bestowed, and the soul is only aware of the smallest portion of all that has been given. So unaware of how much has been lavished on it, the heart nonetheless feels moved to give thanks for .... it does not know what. St. Elisabeth of the Trinity will cry out Nescivi - Latin for words that the Bride of the Song of Songs cries out, "I no longer know." For everything that the soul thinks it understands in this kind of prayer, a greater mystery of overflowing, inundating, and bursting unfathomable love rushes in, and the soul senses this on some deep level but its understanding fails and it is left speechless and all it can stammer is "I no longer know anything." "Nescivi" and all the gratitude this cry of thanksgiving implies is the only adequate response to the splendour and majesty that flows into a heart loved in this way.

What causes this mysterious "unknowing"? St. Elisabeth knew well that what is unknown is God Himself revealed to us in Christ and in conformity to His death. No technique or method can force or even influence such love. This love entered into our death so that we do not die alone but with Him and if we accept this gift with the humility of faith, we will rise with Him, not only in the world to come, but even now in the midst of this dying life (to use words from St. Augustine). Faith recieves the gift of God Himself given to us through Jesus Christ. Contemplation beholds Christ even as He gazes on us in the power of the Holy Spirit. What causes this mysterious "unknowing" is the very moment of mutual recognition, a moment that begins now in faith but will reach its completion in glory.

Contemplation, opening the eyes of the heart, is about recieving the Gift of God in faith. Not only can the greater portion of what flows into the heart not be grasped, grasping at such a gift is completely disproportionate to the very mystery of such a divine self-gift. Instead, this love must be freely accepted as it is and generously recieved without expectation of any result. God gives His very self in this prayer and so the only appropriate way to respond is with a whole hearted hospitality. For He who is Love Himself always comes with manifold and unexpected gifts, and the greatest of His gifts is the Gift of the Holy Spirit.

In contemplative prayer, the Holy Spirit raises the heart above itself until the whole person participates in the life of the Holy Trinity. This participation breaks out in praise. Praise, in fact, is the completion of work, the acknowledgement that a work is good. God Himself saw that Hiw work of creation was very good, and humanity has been invited since the dawn of time to enter into this praise, into the completion, into the rest of God. Contemplation is the realization of this divine rest. Contemplative prayer tastes the presence of God and shares in the divine vision of all of reality in relation to God. To realize this participation in divine life and share in God's own gaze on the world, the Holy Spirit moves the soul with His gifts and these gifts raise up and transform the whole of one's own existence with divine life.

Participating in divine life means to have one's whole body and soul become none other than a fiery icon of divine presence in the world. The Holy Spirit ignites the depths of the heart with holy desires. While not always felt, these are nonetheless luminous with the warmth of divine friendship. Tradition discerns seven principle movements or gifts of the Holy Spirit: Fear of the Lord, Piety, Fortitude, Counsel, Understanding, Knowledge and Wisdom. In many beautiful ways these movements perfect the work of grace in us. They make our faith more profoundly relational, and render our hearts more vulnerablity to the immensity of divine love. The gifts are given when the Holy Spirit descends in the sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation. They are strengthened through participation at Mass and in each reception of Holy Communion. They establish the soul in a loving silence before the Lord, a readiness to respond, to surrender, to be taken up by the love of God whenever the Holy Spirit moves through them.

These divine movements surge through the soul and its powers from the deepest depths of the heart and into bodily action. That is to say, these divine gifts are supernatural dispositions that incline the enfleshed soul to be moved when and how the Divine Comforter chooses to move it. And this Heavenly King only moves with great power. He does so with such delicacy that the soul does not even know that it has been moved. At once, everything has changed but it does not know how. The eyes of the heart are opened but the heart does not know the power that healed its blindness. The ears of the heart suddenly hear the voice of the Savior but the heart does not know how it came into this new Spirit-filled obedience.

Such signs and wonders not happen opposed to the free will of the believer but together with the a freedom that desires to love with the obedient love of God by faith. Sometimes the Advocate can work this way in times of crisis or else when the demands of sacrificial love require something more than our natural powers and dispositions can provide. Most often, the Paraclete chooses the quiet hidden moments of life, the ones no one else notices, not even the soul itself. The Wind of God blows in that loving silence that the believer offers in secret, that moment of mutual presence when the soul sincerely bows before the Soul of the soul, a moment of genuine adoration that is opened through the discipline of daily prayer, attentive liturgical practice and the humble monotony of standing firm in the faith.

The Giver of All Good Gifts always moves in the unfathomable ways. Yet, our lack of interior silence, our own spiritual noise, internal self-torments, holding onto grudges, replaying grievances, the pits of would've, could've, should've, the hostility of unrepented sin, disordered affections and thoughts - all of this, if recklessly ignored and not patiently dealt with, is, in effect, a rejection of the Holy Spirit and the gifts He longs to share. Just as at the first moment of creation, the Lord and Giver of Life hovers over the chaos of the heart, ready to bring to completion the work of the Father through the power of the Word. He brings the truth of a new love out of nothing. He dispells confusion and makes room for life as He separates light and darkness, waters and earth, what is above from what is below. He orders the depths of the heart with his secret wisdom until beyond all work and labor, the heart finds its rest. Indeed, a loving silence of heart is especially receptive to the creative action of the Breath of God - because this silence has entered into the mystery of praise.