Dr. Helen Titilola OLOJEDE

Advent, the liturgical season of watchful waiting for Christ's coming, calls us to embrace silence and stillness as essential pathways to encounter the Incarnate Word. In a world saturated with noise, endless notifications, hustle and bustle, buying and selling to make extra money and holiday clamour, the disciplines of quiet and silence quiet the soul, allowing God's subtle presence to emerge. As the Church teaches, Advent renews our "ardent desire" for the Saviour by sharing in ancient expectancy, uniting us to John the Baptist's cry: "He must increase, but I must decrease." Silence strips away distractions, fostering a receptive heart for the humble arrival of Jesus at Christmas, much like the quiet stable of Bethlehem.

 

The need for silence arises from our tendency to be absorbed by daily activities and societal pressures, which monopolize attention and drown out divine whispers. Pope Benedict XVI reminds us that Advent invites a "pause in silence to understand a presence," urging us to see life's events as God's loving hints. Without this stillness, we risk missing the Messiah's approach, treating Christmas as mere festivity rather than profound mystery.

In the Eucharist, we already experience Christ's veiled presence, awaiting his full glory "when every tear will be wiped away." Silence, then, is the bridge: it guards the mystery, as St. Paul notes the Incarnation was "kept secret for long ages," pondered in Mary's heart. Like Abraham safeguarding the Covenant or Elijah hearing God in the "still small voice" amid wind and earthquake (1 Kings 19:12), we must enter God's silence to birth the redeeming Word within us.

 

Pope John Paul II illustrates Advent's vigilant patience as strengthening community bonds, like farmers awaiting rain (Jas 5:7), resisting adversity with joyful hearts toward the crib's poverty. Yet, without stillness, such patience frays; noise amplifies discouragement. St. John of the Cross warns that active senses and passions "hinder the soul from seeking its good," blocking supernatural union. In contrast, stillness purifies: external quiet preserves interior communion with the Trinity, as theologian James Keating notes, creating space for God's "mystic kiss" of light and piety. For Christmas preparation, this means carving sacred silences, perhaps a daily "interior journal" of God's glimpses, as Benedict suggests, to transform holiday frenzy into a reverent welcome.

 

Ultimately, silence and stillness in Advent are acts of love, echoing the Church's ancient plea: "Prepare the way of the Lord" (Is 40:3). They attune us to the infant Jesus' soft cry, drawing us from self to Saviour. In this quiet vigil, Christmas dawns not as arrival, but rebirth in our soul’s profound, personal, eternal.

 

Will you practice some stillness and silence in the days leading to Christmas? Silence and stillness are understandably challenging, so we ask the Lord to grant us patience in practice. Amen!