The most important note in a musical score is the “rest.” The open aural space punctuates, gives light and a “lift” to the cascade of other notes in the song/composition. Failure to observe these rests results in lots of sound, but a presentation devoid of character and life – not a bad metaphor when considering the place of rest and silence in our spiritual pilgrimage.
A decade ago, I was privileged to chaperone our parish youth confirmands’ out-of-country pilgrimage to the isle of Iona (Inner Hebrides, Scotland). Taking responsibility for twenty-six teens and five other adults on a ten-day international trip isn’t a picture of peaceful retreat – yet for one afternoon’s free time, I stole away to climb a rock outcropping in the middle of a cow pasture adjacent the old abbey chapel. As I gazed across the pasture and the Straits of Iona toward Mull, the voices of Patrick, Columba, and the generations who kept this mission outpost seemed to swirl about and uplift me – truly providing a “thin place” experience. The struggle of discernment with which I’d been actively engaged (the call to a new congregation) gently dropped into place, and a deep and gentle peace surrounded me.
Rest and quiet is perhaps the most important (and often-overlooked) element in the crowded “score” of my habitually Type AA, ADHD daily life. The open physical and spiritual space punctuates, gives light and a lift to the competing demands and distractions composing a priest/pastor’s daily life. Failure to observe these “breaths” results in lots of spinning activity, but all too often a product and presence devoid of authentic and deep character and life. As a spiritual director once responded when I was whining about my annoyance at being wakened at 2:30 am every night, “When else do you shut up long enough for God to get a word in edgewise?”
Raised as the youngest in a NW Ohio German-American dairy-farming family, the notion of rest resided primarily in Sunday afternoon visits with maternal grandparents, very rare vacations (I recall two in eighteen years), and the well-earned embrace of a firm mattress after the shower that followed nightly milking chores. However, two arenas emerged during those formative years that continue to provide for me God’s gift of rest – the natural order and music. Both are a sort of “tongue,” permitting the Spirit to enfold me in God’s presence and tease me into laying aside the agenda, work, and busy-ness to become immersed in a deeper reality – awe and peace. The Iona story provides one instance of seeking and finding God’s still small voice present in the “silence” of the natural order. Resting in the embrace of music, in many of its forms, also opens me to God’s embrace. Scripture citations and links to some diverse music selections follow. I hope you find rest for your spirit’s refreshment and recharging – perhaps in surprising places! | 
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