If in the last article, “Even God Is Silent,” we looked at the silence of God as a painful emptiness,
today we take flight.

We discover that silence is not emptiness.
It is gestation.

“In the beginning was the Word…
and the Word was God” (Jn 1:1).
And the Word
“became flesh and dwelt among us”
(Jn 1:14).

He dwelt among us with a concrete face.
Hands that heal.
Eyes that seek us out.

In Him,
silence ceases to be shadow
and becomes light that allows itself to be seen.

In the heart of the Father
the Son rests from all eternity:
There is no noise.
Only perfect communion.

A silence so full of love that it needs no words to be complete.

You,
caught in the whirlwind of hours that are never enough, overwhelmed by

• the vibration of constant notifications,
• pressing deadlines,
• screens demanding a response “by yesterday”

How long has it been since you lifted your eyes from the ground?

God became man to show man who he is.

That silent God does not ignore you.
He embraces you from His eternity.
He has dreamed of you since the beginning of time.

His Word does not arise from the world’s urgency,
but from that fruitful silence.

The Father’s silence becomes visible, makes itself heard in a wounded body.

Lift up your eyes, fix your gaze.
There, in the midst of routine,
something is being formed for you.

• That Peter to whom Jesus says, “You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my Church,” and to whom He also says, “Before the cock crows, you will deny me three times”

He entrusts him with the present and the future. He trusts.

• His forgiveness is not a speech about repentance, about “what is owed”
• It is a look at the exact moment of his denial

“The Word became flesh,” and silence with a human face looks at us. And it is a loving gaze.

They are not words, not “a complaint form”…
Not a transporting “dopamine” like with prolonged release

The invisible becomes visible in every gesture that leaves anonymity behind. It is wonder that never again ceases.

• carpenter’s sweat in Nazareth,
• dust from Galilean roads,
• tears at the Last Supper.

Jesus does not break in with force.

Christ, God and man, is the continuous present: HE LIVES.

And today, the same as yesterday:

• He looks at the adulterous woman without stoning her.
• He touches lepers.
• He weeps before the tomb of Lazarus.
• He eats with tax collectors.

Christ emptied Himself.
He humbled Himself to exalt us. He becomes man so that we might live divine life. The higher nature assumes the lower. The EUCHARISTIC MIRACLE in action.

That self-emptying is His suffering face.
God made vulnerability, our vulnerability.

Look at that face.
It does not demand likes or performance.
Only that you look at Him.

That you see in Him the Father’s “inhabited” silence

• that entered into your clay, into mine
• into our limits,
• into our real history.

No more noise: a silence that whispers without strange echoes.

It emerges in the noise that does not suffocate if we look at Him:
Jesus does not add volume to the chaos.
He invites us into His home, into His “inhabited” silence

• The silence of Nazareth (30 years working wood).
• The silence of Gethsemane (sweat of blood).
• The silence of the Cross: “Father, into your hands.” “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

There where our hope fails:

• In professional crises
• In a marriage in ruins,
• In that pain and fear of a future without children,
• In that loneliness among people

His gaze continues to whisper to us:

• You are worth more than your posts.
• More than your productivity.
• More than your online image.

Lift your eyes from the ground of immediacy.

To hear that voice,

• turn off your phone.
• Pray for 10 minutes in silence.
• dwell within yourself.

Our mission is born when we allow Christ to take on our blindness, our pain in the smallness of everyday life.

Only then do our words, which He makes His own, truly heal.

You do not compete with the noise of the world.
You pass through it with a transformed gaze.
Before you go,
read this again as many times as you need.

Do not pass by.

God has taken on a human face and
that face

• bears our name engraved in His eyes.

Today,
now,
lift up your eyes

• Let Him look at you.
  • Let Him change the way you look
    . at the world,
    . at others,
    . at yourself.

Be yourself—let us all be—that visible face of Christ for the one who is sinking

• into his phone,
• into his hurry,
• into his emptiness.

The revolution begins with a gaze.

YOURS.
AND MINE…

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