Since Monday my better half’s been out of town on a business trip (to Phoenix, of all the places to go in July!). She gets back this afternoon and I’ll be very glad of that. Still, the quiet has been a real blessing. Not just the paucity of conversation, but the absence of electro-noise from TV and radio. I’ve talked with my wife on the phone each evening, watched bits of a few baseball games and listened to about half of a cd, but other than that have been in a quiet house for the morning and the evening when I’m home and awake.

Now I like quiet a lot more than most people do. I rarely have any radio or tape playing in the car and I get up an hour before my wife so I can have some quiet every day. . Having even more quiet, rather than the constant barrage of infotainment, helps me to see that I’m really not that terribly important. I’ve got a streak of megalomania that needs combating. Quiet really helps. In silence I can see just how tiny I am. I think that’s part of why silence is so unpopular. I’m reminded of the scene in one of Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide books where the ultimate punishment was for a person to be put into the Total Perspective Vortex, which would show the subject just how truly insignificant he is. Of course everyone who was subjected to that vision went mad. Why doesn’t silence drive me mad (if indeed it hasn’t already.)? Two reasons. First is that my insignificance is rather reassuring. If I had really big responsibilities, there’s an overwhelming likelihood that I’d screw them up quite badly. Since my life is so obscure, the chances for me to cause really serious harm isn’t as big as it could be.

Vastly more important, though, is that, as insignificant and as flawed as I am, the incarnate God still cares about me to the point of making the ultimate sacrifice. Silence can be a good reminder of the lasting things as much as noise can be a distraction from them.