“Why is God silent so long? Why is faith bitter? … but then, little by little, I begin to understand as never before, that he is present in the emptiness, in the waiting,” – Carlo Caretto
Why is God sometimes silent, while evil and sorrow hang on, clutching to us all. Why?
I cannot hear him.
I carry my father’s raging. Inside, like a ghostly spirit, speaking soft deceits; his rage came from his internal sense of failure, a fear. He thought he never measured up, to some ideal taunting him. His head, in his heart he had no peace. He was not whatever it was he thought he should be. His rage came from his lack.
I carry his lack; it has become my own.
It is the truest sense of the absence of Truth, yes my empty spaces where fear, comparison, greed, envy, the need to be brilliant, for credit, to be better than others … or even just to be good enough, just for once to a Good Mother, to raise achievers, successors. To have children whose lives somehow prove that I am something – children to reflect my achievements. Just like my father did; had me, made me into who I am.
All this is me playing god.
Do I seek him, so that I will be something? Motivated by self-interest, because I have nothing else?
Do I seek him so that my pleasure or happiness will be satisfied?
Do I seek such a shallow, easy love?
The Holy One is a jealous God – so unlike us, that we cannot even comprehend him. So unlike me.
No, God is not silent, but so much greater.
We love his creation, his riches, his gifts, the joy he offers, the peace he conveys, and truth.
My worship, my life, my offering must come
his infinite and splendid greatness.
He is all. He is not silent.