ON AN AIRPLANE, as a flight prepares to depart, the flight attendant tells the passengers that, in case of an emergency, oxygen bags will drop from overhead. Those passengers with infants will receive two masks. The adult is to put his or her own oxygen mask on first, and only then put a mask on the infant.
For me, as an Italian grandfather, those instructions are counter-intuitive. I want to give my life for my grandchild, to care for her first, and then myself but—and this is a big but—if I truly love my granddaughter, I will put my own oxygen mask on first, then hers. The sequence is vital to my granddaughter’s survival. If I don’t take care of myself first, both of us might be lost.
The oxygen mask example is a model for becoming a healing presence to others. If I don’t take care of myself first, I have nothing to give to others. People seek me out as a counselor and expect that when they come into my office, I have time and energy for them. They don’t need a tired, grumpy, sleep deprived, inattentive, and self-absorbed counselor. The only way I can have something to give is if I have allowed Christ to care for me first and foremost. There is no other way.
I begin to care for myself by centering my being, my soul-mind-body. I allow Christ to center me by gradually becoming still inwardly, which is no small task in today’s environment.
Stillness Is a Choice
OUR ELDERS TELL us that the person seeking inner stillness is someone who has embarked upon the journey into his own heart-not someone who shuts himself off physically from others, but someone who “returns into himself’ closing the door of his mind. Solitude is a state of soul, not a matter of geographical location, and the real desert lies within the heart. As St. Basil said, we return to ourselves; and having returned inwardly, we ascend to God.1
What kind of journey does the Christian take? To be a Christian is to be a sojourner, for spiritually we are always on the move. We are on a journey through the inward space of the heart, a journey not measured by the hours of our watch or the days on the calendar, for it is a journey out of time into eternity. The seeker begins to wait upon God in stillness and silence, no longer talking about God or to God but simply listening. We could say the person who is seeking stillness is seeking to become a healing presence for others.
Exterior silence is a prelude to inner silence. We can’t be wrapped in a noisy fog and expect to attain inner stillness. Silence is a free choice. Yet the only freedom we have is to say, “Thy will be done,” or “My will be done.” So our free choice is to want the Lord’s will and be open to the silence He provides.
Silence doesn’t just happen out of nowhere. Rather, the opposite usually happens. When we least expect it, noise of all sorts can appear from nowhere.
Here is an example from my own life. When my son, Timothy, was in high school, he was on the golf team and often played in tournaments. I was his chauffeur. Sometimes the tournaments were ninety miles away. While I was driving, Tim would turn on the radio to his favorite music station, Z100. It was not outrageous music but certainly not to my taste.
One day it dawned on me that I was being held captive by my son’s music choices. So I said to him, “Tim, do you know what? The radio in the car is half mine. You listen to what you want for half of our trips, and I’ll listen to what I want for the other half. How does that sound?”
He replied, “Oh sure, Dad, that’s fair.”
As we prepared for a long drive, I said, “So, Tim, do you want to hear your music going to the tournament or coming back:”‘ Like a typical teenager he said, in effect, “I’ll take my jollies now.”
After the tournament, we started the drive home. It was seven-thirty in the evening, and Tim was a little tired but pleasant. He took off his golf shoes and prepared to relax. Instantly he reached for the radio. I said, “Whoa, Tim, my turn to use the radio.”
“Oh yeah, Dad, what station would you like?”
“I’ll use my radio time to leave the radio turned off, please.”
“Okay,” he said. But for the next hour and a half he squirmed and restlessly turned in the front seat. He scratched the ceiling, put his feet on the dashboard, and made circles on the side window. He was agitated.
I love my boy and wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. Really, I simply wanted some time of silence in the car.
Interestingly, now that he is an adult, he says to me, “Dad, some of the best times we had together were the drives back from golf tournaments.” I suppose that, while in the car, he had to release his pent-up adolescent energy by tossing about. But beneath the writhing exterior, he was, in some sense, enjoying the silence. Together we could watch the sun setting and enjoy the early evening restfulness. I also think Timothy learned a valuable lesson on those drives back, although that wasn’t my purpose in keeping the radio off. I kept the radio off to retain my sanity.
~Albert S. Rossi, Becoming a Healing Presence
1 Kallistos Ware, The Inner Kingdom (Crestwood, NY: SVS Press, 2000), p. 93.
