Seeing Jesus in others and contemplating on the road do not mean we can legitimately dispense with silence. We need silence. We need time alone with God – in the quiet.

The fact is, we’re useless without having anything to give others. We have nothing to give if we ourselves are not holy. If we have not been made little enough to welcome God in the best and highest parts of ourselves, then what good is our presence in the world?

If we don’t make time for God to work on us in silence, we will only ever get so far as making noise and accomplishing good with an admixture of force, when we ourselves should be a kind of calm, diffusing goodness without commotion and appearance, in the insanity of the world.

Silent time with God – going to our room and shutting the door, without distractions of any sort, even mobile or internet – accomplishes first a recharging of our physical self, to which our heart and spirit are intimately connected; second, it lets God pull us farther out of ourselves into him. For the second goal to predominate, it is necessary to admit that contemplation, in the sense of suffering divine things, is the greatest good that can be attained in silence.

Meditation is not contemplation. Any number of spiritual exercises does not make contemplation. Contemplation is an infusion of love by God. Meditation is a means to that end.

To sit with Jesus – in the Blessed Sacrament or in the Gospel or in some other way – and say, “Jesus, I love you,” thinking about what each word means and meaning it. This is meditation leading into contemplation, and to it our use of these other good things is ordered. (When everything else passes away, love will remain.) However, even when we love, we may not feel like it. The feelings come and go. Indeed, sometimes God takes them away to help us to grow; it is a “dark night”.

Silence is hard to find. The world, even in generally useful distractions, is noisy.

But we need to find that silence. How often? It depends on the person, the life, and God’s initiative. But we all need to find that silence.

What are some practical steps towards making time for silence?

The guidebook of the Charles de Foucauld Lay Fraternity makes these suggestions and others like them:

• Set a “Desert” day for silence. Fix the date of the “Desert” day in your diary and keep to it. Remember: A “Desert” day is not a holiday!
• Where do I want to spend my “Desert” day? In the open countryside? In a church? In my room?
• What is the timing of my “Desert” day? How much time is available? Only the morning/afternoon?
• Do I spend the “Desert” day alone or together with somebody else? Make arrangements beforehand.
• What do I need? Something to eat… writing materials… a Bible… raincoat…
• What is the subject matter I want to reflect upon?
• When the day comes… Avoid all distractions. Start as soon as possible; do not forget available time is precious.
• Become conscious of your body and its signals, and of nature.
• Become aware of the simple things of life (breath, calmness, to be able to smile, to reflect, to dwell on something…).
• Permit inner questioning and nonconformity.
• Be aware of restlessness but don’t permit it to disturb you.
• Reflect on a Gospel reading, a prayer or some special subject.
• The sense of a “Desert” day is to visit yourself so as to be able again to meet other people. Don’t forget this if it helps you to remember the goal!
• Keep to your resolution concerning times of prayer… Try to abandon yourself to the presence of God.
• Make an evaluation at the end of the day (What happened to me? What was good, or not so good? Is there anything I would like to do afterwards?). It will probably be helpful to write your thoughts down.
• On reaching home, realize that this and not the “Desert” is the place of your vocation.

Are there any other suggestions that help you?