For some time, Blessed Charles de Foucauld settled at Beni Abbès in Algeria, near the border with Morocco. He set up a small home. In a letter to his cousin, he described his situation like this:

The fraternity [Blessed Charles’ name for his home], which is very quiet at night and between 10:00am and 3:00pm, is a beehive of activity from 5:00am until 9:00am, and from 4:00pm until 8:00pm. I never stop speaking with or seeing people: slaves, the poor, the sick, soldiers, travellers, the curious… I celebrate holy Mass… before daybreak so as not to be disturbed by the noise and to be able to spend my time of thanksgiving somewhat quietly.

People in all situations found him useful. Sometimes it was for material reasons. As Cathy Wright points out in her book on Blessed Charles,

Most of the people he welcomed night and day – he reported receiving as many as 60 to 100 visitors daily – were the very poor or runaway slaves seeking food or help of some kind.

But even when there is a material reason for seeking support, underlying each reason there is a spiritual one, too. And Blessed Charles, recharged and re-oriented by the time he spent each day in silence, was able to give something and be something that was like spiritual food to a constant stream of people.

I don’t know if this situation has ever happened to you, but some days – or some stretches of time – unfold like this: a constant stream of (in my case) students, co-workers, friends, people speaking about social issues in Thailand, someone with a request for help regarding English… There are days when my office door moves like Charles’ door must have done in Beni Abbès. I actually understand how one could estimate a seemingly ridiculous number of visitors (Charles’ 60 or 100). I cannot count the number of people who wanted to speak to me, obtain something from me, inform me of a prayer request, catch up with me, invite me somewhere, smile with me, laugh with me, cry or worry… It’s a beehive of activity. And this can be without counting the phone, without counting the internet!

A beehive of activity descends into mere animality and loses the spiritual aspect without silence. We are only spiritually useful in the measure that we have been spiritually formed. Formation occurs alone with God.

Without the Eucharist, too, and the life of Jesus in us, I cannot imagine where the strength can come form to keep our rapports with others spiritually nourishing in any way.

And it’s not that anyone in this strained situation can see any help he’s giving. Perhaps the worst part is that one is flying blind. The spiritual cannot be seen, or not quite. The thing that matters most is hidden in plain sight. But it’s definitely hidden.

The best that one can do is know that he must constantly hold on to Jesus and beg God for the silence to come so that he is spiritually useful to all who come his way. But, thankfully, we don’t beg God desperately. We don’t pray for holiness and times of silence like someone prays for bread during a famine. We beg God with full confidence that he knows what good he will give and what evil he permits. This in itself is an immense strength.