In the Midst of Silence

Fr. Scott Haynes

Meditation for the Sunday within the Octave of Christmas

“When a profound stillness compassed everything,

and the night in its swift course was half spent,

Your all-powerful Word, O Lord,

bounded from heaven’s royal throne.”

(Introit, Sunday within the Octave of Christmas)

Holy Church places these words upon our lips during the sacred hush of the Christmas octave, inviting us to contemplate not noise, but silence; not haste, but divine initiative; not human effort, but the sudden descent of God Himself. The Word does not creep into the world timidly, nor does He wait for the world’s permission. In the stillness of night, while creation holds its breath, He bounds forth from the royal throne of heaven.

This is the mystery of Christmas contemplated at its deepest level. The Incarnation takes place when all appears quiet, when human strength is asleep, when the world is least prepared to receive its King. The stillness spoken of by Sacred Scripture is not merely the silence of the earth, but the pause of all created power. God acts when man can no longer act. Salvation arrives when human striving is at rest.

Night, in Scripture, often signifies ignorance, fear, and the shadow of death. Yet here the night becomes the chosen hour of divine intervention. Half spent, it is already passing away. The darkness has not yet vanished, but it has been wounded by light. Christ does not wait until morning to come. He enters the darkness itself, transforming it from within.

“Your all-powerful Word.” This Word is not a sound that fades, nor an idea that changes. He is living, eternal, personal. He is the same Word who spoke creation into being, who commanded the seas, who formed Adam from the dust. Now that same Word humbles Himself, clothing His omnipotence in silence, His majesty in swaddling clothes. The royal throne of heaven is not abandoned, yet from it He comes forth, remaining what He was while becoming what He was not.

The Psalm responds with quiet majesty: “The Lord is King, in splendor robed.” Even in the manger, Christ reigns. His splendor is hidden, but no less real. His strength is veiled in weakness, yet it is the very power by which the world is redeemed. The Child who cannot yet speak is the eternal Word. The Infant who lies still will one day command the dead to rise.

For the soul, this mystery carries a gentle but piercing invitation. God still comes in stillness. He enters hearts not through clamor or force, but through silence, recollection, and surrender. When our inner world grows quiet, when distractions are set aside, when the night of self-reliance is half spent, then the Word can bound forth into our lives.

The octave of Christmas teaches us to linger. The Church refuses to rush past Bethlehem. Day after day, she repeats the same mystery, as though unwilling to let the silence be broken too soon. She knows that only those who remain still long enough will hear the Word arriving.

Let us ask for the grace to welcome Him. Let us allow the noise of sin, fear, and restless striving to fall silent. Then, in the depths of our hearts, we too may experience the coming of the all-powerful Word, not with terror, but with peace; not with confusion, but with wonder; not with resistance, but with love.