Second Week of Advent: Yell

Previously: Horizon

On Friday evenings in the fall, you can find my family at our high school’s football stadium. This is our second year with a marching band member in our household, and we’ve had season tickets in the same seats both years.

The halftime shows and games have both been enjoyable, but watching people has often been just as entertaining.

During one game this past season, a father with two young boys sat behind us. The dad often explained to his sons what was happening around them: why players were doing certain things, why the band wasn’t in their stands during 3rd quarter, and so on. The boys were as invested as those around preschool age or slightly older could be, and they seemed genuinely interested in being there.

At one point, the referees made a decision that those in the home stands didn’t agree with, and many around us wanted them to hear about it. There was a lot of noise directed toward the field.

These two boys, apparently eager to participate, started yelling as well. In contrast to those around us, however, they just let out a steady “Aaaaaaaaaaah!” The other notable thing about their involvement was that they had their fingers in their ears as they did this.

They didn’t know why everyone was yelling, but they wanted to yell, too. And they didn’t really like the yelling either, so they protected themselves from having to hear too much of it, including their own.

If that’s not a good metaphor for most of what passes as discourse these days, I’m not sure what is.

The so-called marketplace of ideas is riddled with so much sound and fury that signifies nothing. A certain portion of it has real substance to it, but it’s often overrun by those who want to flood the zone with noise, and to get others to add to it. Many are glad to, even if their contributions amount to steady wordless yelling, fingers in their ears to shield them from the din.

It can be difficult to find peace while this is happening. For some, peace is participation. But for many others, peace may look like removal of oneself from the commotion.

Is there such a thing as peace while remaining in the thick of it all? I mean, I suppose so. But if you’re going to stay close to the yelling, asking everyone to please stop probably won’t work.

Instead, peace would look more like centeredness, rather than a removal of noise. It would look more like discernment of what’s worth engaging. It would look like a refusal to stick one’s fingers in one’s ears and mindlessly add to the decibel level.

It would look like inner silence in response to outer chaos.

If you enjoyed this reflection, check out my Advent book, Four Weeks: Reflections for Advent.