When is the last time I found myself in silence? I’ve been paying attention to when and how I pray. And I’m pretty sure I need more silence to give prayer the priority I want to give it. But, how can I turn down the noise and pray?

If faith filled living demands silence, I might be doomed before I start. It seems to me that I am never really in silence. Am I silent when I’m asleep? Maybe, but I often have soft music playing to help me fall asleep. The furnace fan blows even at night. First thing in the morning, alone in the kitchen? There’s the sound of opening the refrigerator door, running water to make tea. Am I quiet in the doctor’s waiting room? Not really quiet, just unoccupied. The space is still filled with ringing phones, traffic noises on the street and murmured conversations.

What is Silence Anyway?

Is silence the absence of physical sound or is it finding myself cut off from technology, conversation and other people? Even by this somewhat noisier definition, I have decided that for me, true quiet is rare.

Why is that? Often the answer is other people. People that need my attention or at least think they do. But even when I’m alone, I’m uncomfortable with silence. Does quiet make me nervous? What might I be avoiding that silence would reveal. What would I confront if noise weren’t distracting me?

“Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.” I wrote about this quotation from Simone Weil a few weeks ago. With 2024’s potential to intensify my sense of anxiety, I am reminding myself to pray more and worry less. But as I explore this pathway, I find it filled with distractions, my mind bounces from obligations to entertainments to meaningless trivia.

Does Prayer Require Silence?

Does prayer really require my unmixed attention? If so, I’m convinced I’ll need more time in silence to focus that attention. But do I have to be silent in order to pray? I hope not, I’ve uttered many a desperate prayer in the middle of a chaotic situation.

Still, I am reminded of author, Annie Dillard’s words, “You do not have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary. But the stars neither require nor demand it.” * And so, it seems to me that silence may not be necessary to reach out in prayer, but if I want to hear God’s voice, or even to hear my own voice, I’ll need at least some time in quiet much like the stargazer who needs darkness.

Where To Find Silence?

With this in mind, I’ve been experimenting with silence. As with any new practice, it’s a good idea to start slow so my sample list is brief, and my time slots are short.

• Breath prayer: This ancient practice dating back to early Christianity incorporates a prayer phrase in two parts. Sitting in a quiet place, speak or meditate on the first half of the phrase as you inhale, then add the second half as you exhale. Repeat this practice with the same phrase for three to five minutes. Some possible prayer phrases are: God is / with me.  I have what I need / for today. Lord Jesus / have mercy. Guide me /one step at a time.
• A walk around the block: Leave the headphones behind. Listen for what you are hearing (birds singing, wind in the trees, a car driving past etc.) Notice the sound and let it go. Stay tuned to where you are and what you are hearing both outside and in your heart.
• Make a list: Sit in a quiet place. For 5-10 minutes make a list of what you are thinking about. Write a word or two to record that thought then let it go. Keep a list of what pops in your head. When I tried this recently a few of my thoughts were, It’s chilly in here, I hear the pen on my paper, I like that book on my desk, I don’t really know how to write, I’m tired, How much longer till my timer goes off, Do I need to go to the doctor? What do I think success is? When the time is up, glance at the list. Is there a theme that emerges? Take another minute to talk to God about that theme.

As I continue to experiment with prayer, I can’t report dramatic changes in either the amount of time I’m praying or in the effect it is having on my daily life. As I seek to increase silence as one element of the fullness that my faith needs, I’m taking more snippets of time to briefly quiet my inner turmoil. And I am spending a bit more time talking to God about what’s troubling me. I’m feeling just a bit more peaceful. As I continue on this journey, I return to the familiar prayer, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.” I’m finding that it’s easier to be that instrument when I’ve spent at least a little peaceful time with God.

*Annie Dillard (1982). “Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters,” p. 31, Harper & Row