Silent prayer at Mass befits the mystery of the altar

Father Christopher Vermeulen had a thick accent. I remember adults complaining that they had a hard time understanding him. I never understood why. When I was a child, he would visit the schoolyard at recess to say hello to us little ones playing four square, or whatever. We all loved him, and his accent didn’t seem to matter to any of us.

The only time I remember straining to understand Father Vermeulen was during part of the Mass. I remember the distinct change as he began the prayers for consecration. Father would suddenly be inaudible. I knew he was speaking, praying something, because I could see his lips moving, and I desperately wanted to know what secret words he spoke. I would strain my ears and wonder at the mystical world of a priest. Something was happening on that altar, and his silent prayers to God drew me into it. What was he saying as he rinsed his fingers in the water the altar boy poured? 

I remember the distinct positioning of his fingers after the host had been changed into Our Lord. Father’s pointer finger kept pinched together with the thumb. When he prayed the Our Father, his hands looked so different from mine.

I know now that he held his fingers like that because, once upon a time, everyone knew that those fingers had just held the precious Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus, and they could not touch anything else until they had been purified. If we didn’t know it, the fingers helped to teach us so. But at the time, it remained a mystery – the fingers and the silence.

Now that the laity have claimed equal rights status with priests, all words are usually audible, even though the Roman Missal still states, “The Priest, standing at the altar, takes the paten with the bread ... saying in a low voice: ‘Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation, for through your goodness we have received the bread we offer you: fruit of the earth and work of human hands, it will become for us the bread of life.’”

And then, “The Priest, bowing profoundly, says quietly: ‘With humble spirit and contrite heart may we be accepted by you, O Lord, and may our sacrifice in your sight this day be pleasing to you, Lord God.’ Then, standing at the side of the altar, he washes his hands, saying quietly: ‘Wash me, O Lord, from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.’”

I recently attended a Mass with a new priest. Suddenly I was taken back to my childhood as he prayed these same prayers in near silence. I don’t know the last time I heard ... nothing. It was so interesting to discover the strangeness of silence at Mass. There was nothing being said, except the silent words of our hearts. All eyes were on the altar.

For some of us, it may have been the first time in a long while that we were shocked out of our “participation” and back into the absolute mystery of what is going on during Mass. It gave me the sense that I was in the presence of a mystical act that might just go beyond words. There was something there that I didn’t dare try to explain or pretend to understand. In that moment, the priest’s hands were Christ’s, and I didn’t need to be a part of every word he shared with his Father. It was enough to watch, wait, and wonder.

Not many of us can find silence in our everyday lives. It certainly is rare in my house, and I find that when it happens I quickly take action to fill the void.

But silence, from a Catholic viewpoint, is necessary to bring us closer to God, to mystery. When our tongue is guarded and our ears protected, we can think, wonder, listen, pray.

We can also meditate on spiritual realities for which there are no words. St. Benedict included an entire chapter on silence in his Rule, resolutely believing that it was a necessity for holiness.

The Mass is the natural and obvious place to find moments of silence, but how often do many of us experience this gift? I believe if we cannot find (or offer to others) silence at Mass, before, during, or after, we will not easily find it elsewhere. And we will not easily recognize the true meaning of the sacrifice.

God spoke to the prophet Elijah in the silence of the moving air. He is waiting for that same silence to speak to us from the mystery of the altar.