When my mother’s parents married on March 29, 1919, they moved into a tiny, rented house near a rural community that was a few miles from Tupelo, Mississippi. Their home had no electricity, telephone, or radio. It was quiet.
After my grandfather went to the fields in the morning, the only sounds he heard all day were the ones he himself made—the crunch of the plow in the ground, his cries of “Gee” or “Haw” to the mules, and his singing—or those of God’s creation all around him. Back in the farmhouse, the only sounds my grandmother heard were the ones she made while working around the house, or the sounds of God’s creation—the birds, the wind—that came through the open windows. They were alone with their thoughts and their God all day long.
If my grandparents wanted information, conversation, or music, they had to make a special effort, hitching up the team and taking a long ride in an open, bumpy wagon. Mostly this happened on Saturday afternoons when they did their weekly business—“trading” they called it—face-to-face with people in the nearby village or in Tupelo. All the music they heard was live, and mostly in church.
In modern cultures, most people have a very different experience from that of my grandparents. Friends or families go out to eat together and their conversation is distracted by loud music, televisions everywhere, and the constant ping of phone notifications and texts in their pockets. Children riding in a vehicle watch movies, play games, or listen to music on their headphones, while their parents listen to something else in the front seat. It’s hard to go anyplace where there’s no music, television, or personal messages mediated by technology. Whereas my grandparents had to make a considerable effort to break the silence in order to hear news or music, we have to make an effort to avoid information and entertainment. And sometimes we need to—for the health of our souls.
We need to find space in our lives to insert the wisdom of Ecclesiastes 3:7: there’s “a time to keep silence, and a time to speak.” While that’s mainly about knowing when to hold our tongues, there’s a broader application there about a time for silence and a time for noise that’s wise as well.
So turn off the sound system in the car for a day or two. Sit outside after dinner and talk or read. Spend an evening by the fire without digital media. Recover the physically and spiritually recreative power of silence.
