A Letter for Corpus Christi

Recently I was asked to comment on something about our parish that I find noteworthy. As the parish organist, I didn’t think it would be very creative of me to mention our pipe organs. Certainly I could have mentioned our choir, which is unique in the city of Boston. Another obvious answer could have been our church building, now beautifully restored, and with much improved acoustics. And, after years of using this space to encourage and cajole the parish into hearty participation, I could have mentioned the lusty congregational singing. Beautiful liturgy and thoughtful preaching both flourish here as well. The loving community that gathers each week for worship is also highly unusual in terms of demographics. All these are wonderful and unusual aspects of our life together at All Saints, for which I give thanks to God on a daily basis.

All of the above may be true, and yet what I find most special about All Saints is one word: silence.

Silence makes most modern Americans very uncomfortable. We fill our cars with talk radio or music; we fill our living rooms with noise from the television; we walk around town with headphones jammed into our ears; we blast pre-recorded sound (I won’t call it “music”) into nearly all of our public spaces: coffee shops, pharmacies, grocery stores, shopping malls, amusement parks, bars, restaurants. Even when we are not subjected to noise of all kinds, we voluntarily pollute our own minds with our own busy thoughts, shutting out silence from every aspect of our life.

And yet, Scripture tells “God is in his holy temple; let the whole earth keep silence before him.” The Hymnal asks us to “Let all mortal flesh keep silence,” and we know from the Elijah story that God does not speak in the earthquake, in the wind, or in the fire, but in the still small voice. Silence is the space into which God speaks. If we don’t make room for silence, I would argue we are not making room for God.

Each Sunday morning, when I walk into the church to begin playing the opening organ voluntary, I am struck by the impact of the silence that is kept here at All Saints. As our parish continues to grow, let us cherish this gift of silence and bestow it on all those who walk through our doors. We should ensure that our comfort with silence be not confused with unfriendliness or a lack of hospitality. Let me also take this opportunity to express my gratitude to the parish for continuing to refrain from applause at the conclusion of the closing voluntary. Silence is golden. Silence points to God.