The sounds from silence
Published Feb 28, 2008At the first in a weekly series of Lenten speakers in a Chicago church, the presenter was every bit informed, articulate and spiritually motivated. Much of what he said remains with me as I make my way on the journey and attempt to put into motion some of his recommendations to help pave the way for Easter.
But before and after his remarks, I was equally captivated by the dual symphony of dramatic gestures that was taking place just to the side of the altar as the priest offered Mass for the congregation.
On the one hand, the choir director—accompanied by a pianist—deftly led voices in exquisite orchestration that blended and soared, enhancing the liturgy at every turn. And on the other hand, a man sat on a straight-backed folding chair and signed for a handful of hearing-impaired parishioners who occupied the front pew.
For those of us blessed with the gift of hearing, the musical selections were uplifting, just as the words communicated by the signer were no doubt enlightening to those who “listened” with their eyes as his hands moved like an artist’s across an invisible canvas.
By the time the service ended, it was cold and dark as the faithful poured out from the church and rushed to the temporary shelter of nearly frozen cars. The roar of engines disturbed the otherwise silent night, a few horns honked impatiently, winds howled ferociously and the crunch of salt beneath tires was reassuring on the slippery streets.
Acute awareness of the commonplace winter sounds that might otherwise be dismissed as annoying transformed the evening’s experience into a poignant Lenten message—to be thankful for what most of us take for granted—the ability to hear. Beyond personal gratitude there is a deeper awareness and appreciation for the generous soul who served as the conduit to those who hear by an alternative method.
Without a flourish, the talented man packed up his briefcase and slipped away into the night. We may not know his name but he surely belongs to an elite group of folks who listened and responded to the call. A signer for the deaf takes a firm hold of the cross and helps to carry it on behalf of our challenged sisters and brothers.
Now that’s something to sing about.