In Barcelona, husband Dan and I stand in a church with our mouths wide open. In awe.

That’s how we feel gazing on the brazen beauty of La Sagrada Família. It’s the sublimely gorgeous church designed by Antoni Gaudí, this city’s tenderly brilliant late architect.

I look for the right words to describe it. But only “wow” comes out of my mouth. Wow?

Talk about insufficient.

Something deeper, grander, smarter demands to be uttered in response to Gaudí’s soaring, arching, blatant, ridiculously beautiful church.

My thesaurus fails. Not enough superlatives.

So I shut my mouth. What a concept: you don’t grasp what you are seeing, so be quiet.

And you know where this is going.

As our political season strains forward, with yet more televised debates and press rodeos on tap, the need for conscripted silence—as in, church-style quiet—has become, well, deafening.

Instead, we keep hearing the absolute worst from folks vying to show leadership at best. To that end, they Just. Keep. On. Talking.

What if candidates hit the pause button, discovering as I finally do in the presence or Gaudí’s masterpiece, that sometimes we lack the cultural, spiritual, historical or emotional vocabulary to speak?

So don’t. Or as my late Mama used to say, “Just hush.”

 

The prophet Elijah grasped that clearly. Hearing the chastising whisper of God, Elijah yanked off his cloak and wrapped it around his face—his reverence raw and awestuck. Too humbled to speak without an invitation from the Holy God, first he just listened.

Now there’s a beautiful way to learn what we don’t understand.

Zechariah finally recognized that, too–learning that sounding off all the time yields nothing. Nine months of imposed silence later, he finally understood: God’s voice is the only one that matters.

Clear on that at last, and no longer yakking to be yakking, Zechariah’s new attitude was rightly changed. So were his first spoken words. No longer a doubter, he instead “began praising God.” (Luke 1:64)

In Gaudí’s splendiferous basilica, such reverence for God assumes the same surrendered, amazed restraint.

A lovely reverence marks the church grounds. Thousands of folks pass through daily, gawking like Dan and me. Yet despite extraordinary acoustics, human sounds are muffled. Tempered. Ah, sweet moderation.

Does it matter that most of us can’t describe what we see in Gaudí’s artistry? Brilliance? Rebellion? Insanity? Gee whiz. Love?

I don’t know so I just stay quiet and observe. At a community meeting recently, I was desperate to yak, but zipped my lip. Then I actually learned something.

It’s a lesson I still need to master. Not a few in this political season could learn it, too. Less talk. More awe. When we do, look what we finally hear. God first.

Patricia Raybon is an award-winning author of books and essays on mountain-moving faith. 

To travel along on her monthly Faith Journey, sign up HERE.

photo credits: Radio (Podcast) Days – 59/365 via photopin (license);La Sagrada Familia ceiling and red stained-glass windows by ©Dan Raybon; multicolored stained-glass view via sagradafamilia.org