The Frustrating Silence

The holiday season is always a mix of things for me. At once I am inspired by the idea of the Incarnation, and it was once the thing that gave me the most hope and peace while I am, meanwhile, also prone to much darker thoughts this time of year. Some mornings, the dread of everyday life is so suffocating that I have trouble getting out of bed and even midnight mass was too much for me to bear. This is a season where people want you to gather around friends and loved ones, but it's damn near impossible to tell them how much crowds can be a source of panic.

Photo courtesy of Justin Kern, click for site.

This is the first Christmas since becoming Catholic that I've missed a midnight mass. I shouldn't be surprised, given that I have trouble making even the normal Sunday services and, even if I do make it, I find myself needing to leave part way through the liturgy lest I start panicking. So, I ended up hanging out in my empty apartment, trying to make the best of the situation that I can. Before bed, I prayed one more novena that this would work out. However, I'm starting to feel that these prayers are falling on deaf ears, perhaps dead on arrival after I sent them.

In total, I've prayed seven St Joseph Novena's and endless petitions to St Benedict over the last two years. These are coupled with my daily prayers and petitions to God that something in my life will change, that something will be a source of hope. There is not an answer, but rather like the sound of a door locking when you come knocking. Was the house ever even occupied? I could've sworn it had been. Alas, there is no answer, not even a simple "No" nor a theophanic "Fuck Off" but merely the deafening silence that starts to become as exhausting as it is terrifying.

I have to say, the silence is the worst part of all. I can handle condemnation, I can handle the feeling of guilt, and I could even handle the pains of rejection. However, I simply can't stomach not having the peace that once brought me to the faith. It makes one wonder if I made the whole thing up. Certainly, I can understand those who assume that the 'peace which surpasses all understanding' is as much a myth as second sight. I've felt it a few times, but it could have been any number of things.

When I was an Evangelical, I was promised that this would go away with enough prayer.

It has still not gone away.

Rather, this is more akin to Churchill's black dog: it always comes back home and it is barely aware the it ever left.

Pardon my bad language and my ramblings, dear reader. As a theologian, I keep hoping that I can get a little more depth out of my thoughts, but this is one condition I can't reason out of. Pray for me, if you'd be so kind.

In Christ,
T. L. G.