What is the fruit that ripens with silence?

Saint Teresa of Calcutta had an interesting business card. On the front, it simply said Mother Teresa, MC. No address. No phone number. No other contact information.

On the back, she had a little poem.  Just as some business cards have corporate goals, objectives, or a mission statement, Mother Teresa had this: 

The fruit of silence is prayer.
The fruit of prayer is faith.
The fruit of faith is love.
The fruit of love is service. 
The fruit of service is peace. 

When I first encountered the poem, I thought it was a little simplistic – a few interesting phrases strung together.  Mother Teresa is known for her service, so I was even a little frustrated when the progression of words didn’t get to service a lot quicker.

I’ve since spent many mornings meditating on this simple movement.  I now see both a holy simplicity and an inspired genius. 

Mother Teresa realized that service in the name of Christ needs to begin with silence.  One must first hear the voice of God.  Too often, I am quick to fill a need or say “yes” to a request.  Sometimes this works well, sometimes not. 

If this progression was the foundation of Mother Teresa’s contagious joy in serving the Lord, I recognized that I should follow the same pattern in my discernment. 

The prayer begins with silence, a reaching out to the God who speaks loudest in the silence.  As I enter this “cloud of unknowing”, my faith grows.  The Father once again assures me of his love.  It is only after hearing this voice saying, “You are my beloved,” that I have the underpinning I need to serve.  I find true peace when my service rests upon this foundation of first silence, then prayer, then faith, and finally love.

After Mother Theresa died, there was a shocking revelation that she spent most of her life without a felt presence of God, what John of the Cross calls a “Dark Night of the Soul”.

I can imagine Mother Teresa reciting this prayer, reaching into this darkness with tremendous desire to hear a faint echo of that voice that once said, “You are my beloved with whom I am well pleased.”  And a faint echo was all she might have needed to carry on.

It’s a meditation you might want to try, especially if you’re discerning how you might serve the Lord.   Spend about five minutes going slowly and thoughtfully through the progression. 

May the fruit of your silence bring you peace.