Silence in Boston

If you are ever absurd enough to wake up early on a weekend and wander around Boston near dawn, you will notice something odd. As you wonder whether you’re stepping unusually loudly today or if it’s just your imagination, there is a kind of pressure on your mind. It will weigh you down until you stop for a moment and realize that the off note is that you aren’t noticing much of anything.

On the usually bustling Commonwealth Avenue and Beacon Street, perhaps a handful of cars will pass you by; the byways hear no whirl of engine blocks and wheels. On the normally popular sidewalks, you’ll see nary a single soul; Boston College campus is a ghost town.

There are many kinds of silences in this world, but not all are equal. You have known the awkward tension in a group or the uncomfortable gap in a conversation; you have also probably known the grand stillness of a forest or the reverent peace of a chapel. A silent Boston is hard to fit among these or any other category.

Instead of overhearing the chatter of the gaggles of college kids and the ding and din of the trams, the silence is only broken by your footsteps…Has your walking always been so loud? Has your breathing always been so noisy? Has the rustle of the autumn breeze in the dying leaves always been so prominent? They are all you can hear now.

On first impression, this weekend quiet may seem downright disturbing. We have perhaps grown accustomed to the unchallenged notion that some things, like cities, are restless and therefore should never be restful. Such silences make us uncomfortable, and so ought to be avoided. We should tuck it away in retreats as if stifling a shameful fear, one to be faced occasionally and only in special settings.

As one who has trod the streets of Boston many a time on early weekend mornings, however, I disagree. I daresay they have become my favorite time of the week, most especially that hour of half-light when the world’s greenery is dyed frosty blue and the Reservoir waters are marine and black, until the sun finally breaks the horizon and breathes crimson and pink onto the tidy brick and stone of Boston College.

To walk amid this scene is to walk in an entirely foreign world. What a thought, to realize that waking up earlier than usual could so utterly upend habits and force you to reexamine how you view the place you live and work and pray! When everything is so subtly shifted, it may well force you back to God as the only familiarity; indeed, His presence may be especially felt at such a time.

In the alien stillness of the city is a great opportunity to think clearly. The absence of buzz and clamor should not be terrifying; it is one of the most sublime liberties and all the sweeter for how rarely we obtain it and how dearly we need it. We cannot work without it, we cannot live without it, and most importantly of all we cannot pray without it. 

We need more silence in our lives as college students. Immeasurably more. It is immensely practical and useful, it is incomparably leisurely and spiritual. There are retreats dedicated to it, but I suggest that you instead dedicate your every weekend to it. You don’t need to run away from Boston or wherever you call home to find yourself in the shroud of silence. It is not a different place you must tread, but a different time. Some people may find silence uncomfortable at first. It is necessary for everyone to face it.