Quiet. Hospital Zone.

A period of silence …

The best part of the day is the silence. In fact, silence is the best part of life. But it makes us uneasy, silence makes us uneasy. Is he/she mad at me? Should I be saying something? Why isn’t there sound, noise? Turn on something. There is rubrical provision in our worship liturgy, A period of silence may be observed, but we don’t use it, don’t observe it, it makes us uneasy, we wonder who has missed their cue to get up and read something, we look at the worship leaflet to see what should be happening but isn’t, we squirm, something has gone wrong, has the organist forgot the hymn, the Celebrant dozed off? Who forgot what they are supposed to be doing, oh my God, is it me? 

Our dis-ease, our fear of silence is impoverishing. The rubric should read A period of silence shall be observed.

If there is life hereafter, and if there are choices, options, my choice is not to stand round a throne singing, even Anglican Chant. For my eternity, I’ll drift among the stars, through deep silence of deep space, holding hands with memories of you.

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