Silence

Silence, Mother Teresa says. The fruit of silence is prayer. The fruit of prayer is faith. The fruit of faith is love. The fruit of love is service. The fruit of service is peace.

An astonishing sequence, this. I've been thinking about it for months, since a wise counselor shared it with me. It continues, every time I come to it, to surprise, and challenge. It's a surprise, initially, to consider that silence does not automatically or immediately equal peace. We think of the two as being linked so closely, as following so completely each from the other, that they are at least functionally synonymous. We think, peace and quiet, and don't see Mother Teresa's intermediaries coming. That said, those intermediaries are themselves surprisingly intuitive. Each step makes a kind of unexpected, yet obvious sense, irrespective of how much work it might take to make said step, or how easy it might be for the progression through them all to break down at any point. And there is work, and there are breakdowns. And that's surprise no. 3: despite the clarity of the formulation, despite that obviousness, there's nothing pat or facile about it. It's complicated, and hard.

Surprise no. 4: Mother Teresa, a tough little thinker.

Well. Why lead off a blog with this topic? Because today, after more than a month of frantic activity, of upheaval and noise, there is a fifth-floor apartment in Falls Church, VA, that has fallen blessedly, blessedly silent.

And since the fruit of silence is prayer, and since writing is a kind of prayer, well... Watch this space.