Charged Silence

The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.
                                                 ~ Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Initially I had a problem with the women’s ordination movement. Perhaps you did, too. As a child and even as a teen and young adult participating in a Catholic Mass, I never felt “less than” nor marginalized nor excluded. I just sat or stood or kneeled in rhythm with the unfolding ritual before me and felt – well – profoundly loved. Maybe because I was devout in a more poetic than catechismal way, all I heard in those words and hymns and movements, and especially in the silences, was music. Listening, admittedly more to the sounds themselves than the sense they did or did not make, turned me inward to reflection, to peaceful contemplation, and a glimpse of understanding of who were all were and who we all could be.

My, it was all so lyrical to me back then, and, as you can see, not exactly conducive to working on church reform and renewal. I truly saw nothing wrong with the church because I was seeing and hearing and experiencing all as a dreamer, a romantic, a lover. Seeing, for me, was not believing. Reality was only what I created, and I created music, especially in the silence, and so I treasured it, too – especially over voiced discontent, protest, speaking out. As I said, not a good resume for a future activist.

One of the problems, of course, of turning so resolutely inward and hearing only beautiful music is missing and mis-interpreting the experiences of others. When I finally permitted myself to listen to the voices of the disenchanted, the hurt and harmed, the outraged, I heard another kind of music, more like modern classical, rock, heavy metal, rap and rhythm and blues, often pained, cacophonous, strident sounds, yet also perceptive, wise, and, yes, beautiful in their own way…and inspiring.

My silence is now less restful than full of fire, charged, ready to be broken and broken into. Yet because it is still precious, I believe we can use it as well to work for justice and inclusion in the church and elsewhere. At our Ordination Day witnesses outside the cathedral in Philadelphia each May, people coming out of the basilica or walking or driving by can only see a pantomime, the silent ritual of a Catholic Mass being celebrated by a woman outside the Church. It is silence they see and that is the music.

Dr. Patricia Hoy, musician, teacher, and author of Arts Awareness, in a piece called “Silence Between the Notes” had this to say about how music is intensified by silence: “Mozart builds anticipation through his compositional technique to create dramatic pause, building tension and withholding resolutions. The pauses prolong the tension of the preceding buildup of tension creating a dynamic, charged silence. Silence is part of what gives the music beauty and life.”

She challenges us to: “Experiment with this powerful resource, using it artistically in conversations and as a compositional technique of living and working.” I do think silence can be a powerful tool for reform and renewal, one we should explore more closely as we create our necessary music everywhere. You?