I just came back from a three-day retreat at a Jesuit retreat house that sits on a high hill overlooking the Mississippi River. Ninety men gathered together for one purpose: to listen to the voice of God in their lives. There was one rule that governed the three days—the rule of silence. Can you imagine ninety of us keeping silent even during meals?
One of the signs on the retreat house wall said: “Silence is God’s First Language.” At first this sounds contradictory because we equate language with noise. The Spirit of God, however, is not noisy. Though our hearts long to hear the voice of God, we seldom give him the silence He needs to communicate with our spirits.
Fasting from the continuous clutter of noise in our daily lives, we were able to better tune in to the subtle ways God communicates to us. In that environment of sacred silence God did not let us down.
What does God’s voice sound like? Does it sound the same all the time? In today’s first reading we listen to four different prophecies from the prophet Isaiah (40:1-10). God uses Isaiah as his mouthpiece. Listen to the instructions:
“Comfort, give comfort to my people says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.”
“A voice cries out: In the desert prepare a way of the Lord! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!”
“Cry out!” “All flesh is grass and all their glory like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower wilts when the breath of the Lord blows upon it.”
“Cry out at the top of your voice, Jerusalem, herald of good news. Fear not to cry out and say to the cities of Judah. Here is your God!”
Poor Isaiah. Will God make up his mind? He is told to speak tenderly, then he is told to cry out at the top of his voice. Does God want to speak quietly and tenderly or does he want to thunder at the top of his voice?
Think about the mother of a small child. When she is in a mall and sees her little one running away from her into the crowd, she screams out at the top of her voice, “Come back here, now!” Her love for the child is expressed through angry screaming. And when she picks up the scared child, she holds him tightly and speaks words of tender love to him. She then holds the little one close to her heart and says nothing as the child puts his thumb in his mouth and surrenders to his mom’s silent love.
The voice of God in whatever form it comes is a voice of passionate love. He cannot sit back idly when he sees one of his little ones wandering off into a dangerous crowd. Whatever He has to do to get our attention, He will.
“Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom and leading the ewes with care.”
This is God’s voice at its best. With tender, quiet love he feeds, gathers, carries, and leads “with care.” When we willingly come to him in the silence, his voice is that of a tender Shepherd. Now and then, however, even the tender-hearted Shepherd has to become firm with errant sheep—so deep is his love for each.
Jesus tells us that God is like a Shepherd who cares for each of His sheep. His love is so passionate that if He
“has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, will he not leave the ninety-nine in the hills and go in search for the stray…In just the same way it is not the will of your heavenly Father that one of these little ones be lost” (Matthew 18:12-14).
Do we realize how much the Father loves each of us and how much he loves those we know who have strayed away from the Shepherd? Do we have a heart that is one with our Good Shepherd’s? During Advent we go to Him in silence.
“Let the heavens be glad and the earth rejoice; let the sea and what fills it resound” (Ps 96:10).
