In the first published novel by Nicholas Sparks, “The Notebook,” which is based on a true story, the author pens the following:
“We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.”
Silence… the beauty of silence. Like Sparks, I’m not sure we’ve embraced its beauty. Our brashness and impatience often prompts us to speak out… often glaringly, selectively.
Sometimes we fall prey to being selectively silent. For example, we may be boldly comfortable condemning the shooter in one senseless setting — but in another, because we identify emotionally with the aggrieved, we quietly instead pray for mercy (…why not condemn both acts — not people — and pray for all crime-committers — praying for truth to enter those messed up places in their minds and hearts that obviously led to the heinous acts?)…
We are selectively silent when we are comfortable only calling out one kind of people or partisan group…
We are selectively silent when we are comfortable proclaiming that only one kind of life matters…
In other words, we are selectively silent. We seem silent when it serves our own purposes — albeit arguably, blindly.
Allow me to humbly share a few sentences on what the Intramuralist chooses to be silent about and why…
I am selectively silent on Donald Trump — not on his presidential candidacy; in fact, pompous as he appears, I do appreciate the fact that he doesn’t seem to avoid any topic — unlike most announced candidates thus far, save maybe Fiorina, Rubio, and Sanders. But I am silent in regard to the disrespect Trump too often utilizes in his word choice. Why? Because I feel it doesn’t deserve any more attention.
I am selectively silent on The Huffington Post’s decision to no longer report on Trump’s campaign in their political coverage. Why? Because the bias within sites that wish to be considered respected news sources wears me out… from all sides.
I am also selectively silent on the hypocrisy laced within selective silence; for example, the world watched when Pres. Obama made multiple heartfelt statements, openly grieving for the Trayvon Martin’s and Freddie Gray’s of this world, but then said nothing after innocent Kathryn Steinle was killed by an illegal alien who had been deported multiple times. Why do I choose to be silent? Because it grieves me… but I’m certain, too, there’s a bit of a plank in my own eye, as I have been blinded — and there have been times, too, when my blindness has caused me to see only what I’ve wanted — only identifying with some… not all.
There is thus a beauty in silence — in the totality of silence, not in the strategic or blind selectivity. Silence causes us to pause, step back, and recognize our own pockets of hypocrisy.
This past weekend I attempted to practice this a little more — being still. I took some extended, intentional time to get away, be out in nature, celebrate, fellowship, pray… and focus on what’s good and true and right…
…focusing on what’s good… wrestling with the truth… gently pulling out the planks… listening to others…
…and embracing the paradoxical beauty of silence.
Note: this may take a lifetime to learn.
Respectfully…
AR