“Immediately his mouth was opened, his tongue freed, and he spoke blessing God.” It may be hard to believe that one of the most obvious aspects of the First Christmas was that of silence. Just think about that for a minute. In all of the more significant moments of this great time, there was silence before, during, and after for various reasons. This is important for us to realize that we are just days away from that “Most Holy Night.” This has been more than substantiated by the mention of Zechariah’s plight in the New Testament Gospel of today and is also revealed in the process by which silver is purified as was described in our First Reading of today: “For he is like the refiner’s fire, or like the fuller’s lye.” Both references open the door to the mystery of becoming silent and still, especially today.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. The next ten days will seem like a blur, and then we return to the same grind and routine that we left; if we did at all. This is why the time is running out on the quality of our Christmas this year and perhaps for the rest of the year. When we walk into the inner room of silence, we can discover gifts that renew and strengthen our very souls. We find God. We chance upon compassion and humility. And we find peace if we can slow down that inner voice and frenetic pace and breathe. God’s presence now more than ever at Christmas is beyond words. As we venture more and more into this inner quiet, we find our lightness of being, our true selves, the end to worry, and a front-row seat at the manger. God is very close in these moments. Make yourself an appointment with the quiet.
Out of the silence, there was music.
Out of the darkness, there was light.
Out of uncertainty, there was a promise.
You see, Hope was born that night.