Several months ago, A.M. wrote a beautiful reflection on the concept of a “domestic cloister.” The idea of the domestic cloister as a fitting description of my home life has stuck with me and I continue to ponder its significance. Especially during this Advent time of quiet preparation for Christ, the thought of leaning into my home’s cloistered charism seems fitting.

The concept of a domestic cloister has not always been my ideal, however. On their wedding day, many Catholic couples like my husband and I, anticipate their homes becoming a “domestic church,” as the family has been called since the beginnings of the Christian Faith. (cf. Pope John Paul II. “Letter to Families – Gratissimam Sana) I used to imagine my home being a busy and noisy place, preparing for the Nativity by praying together around an Advent wreath, baking cookies, and reading Christmas stories to little ones. But for those of us who find ourselves on the peripheries of the Catholic ideal of marriage due to infertility, our homes can sometimes be more aptly likened to a “domestic cloister” – a place of silence and prayer offered up for the Church and the world. 

A place of silence and prayer – although not the characteristics I had dreamed would define my home or Advent practices, I see that they are a fitting and no less beautiful way to live out the expectant waiting of the season. This past Sunday, we heard both “For you I wait all the day.” (Psalm 25:5) and “Be vigilant at all times,” (Luke 21:36). The invitation and exhortation to be alert and present to God and His action is very clear! Through the silence and prayer of my home, I see an invitation to be present to and converse with Him.

Silence

While I frequently have the chance for quiet in my day, I don’t always appreciate or take advantage of the opportunity. I’m often home alone and I can sometimes feel lonely or long for some distraction. Turning to a podcast or a favorite playlist isn’t a bad thing, but sometimes I do it without thinking. The choice isn’t even deliberate, I’m just automatically filling the quiet in my home and heart, and thus ignoring or refusing opportunities to turn my heart and mind to God in hope and prayer.

The silence in cloistered monasteries, in contrast, is deliberate, cultivated, and used as means to foster internal communion with Christ. As the monks of Clear Creek Abbey in Oklahoma write, “Indeed, this silence of the mind and of the heart is the privileged place of encounter with God. The quiet order of a monastery provides an image of this externally, to the monk and to those outside. But mere lack of speaking is not enough; one needs an internal silence that makes room for God to speak to us.” (Glimpse into the cloister: Monastic Silence) One of my Advent resolutions is to try to enjoy and cultivate the silence I find in my “domestic cloister”. Instead of seeing silence as empty, I’m striving to see it as expectant waiting for an encounter with the Word. I like to think of Our Lady, poised in silent openness, just before Gabriel comes with the message of the Incarnation and asks for her “yes.” How grateful we are that she was present, silent, and receptive to the Lord’s words! How many opportunities to say “yes” to God do I miss when I rush to fill the quiet?

Prayer

As the Benedictines mentioned above, the ultimate goal of external quiet is “an internal silence that makes room for God to speak with us.” It seems that the wisdom of the Church is constantly reminding us that silence is a treasured precursor to deep prayer. I think of Cardinal Sarah’s words, “Silence is not an absence. On the contrary, it is the manifestation of a presence, the most intense of all presences.” (The Power of Silence, pg. 27, paragraph 12) Silence is good and beautiful, largely because it frees us up to be present to God. When I frame it this way to myself, I’m less likely to rush to fill the quiet. The silence that reigns in my home doesn’t have to be an emptiness or a void – it is actually an invitation to prayer. 

There are many ways to respond to the invitation to prayer – Visio Divina, the Rosary, Reflections on the Readings – but one of my favorites is the Divine Office. The Office, or the Liturgy of the Hours as it’s often called, is the prayer of the Church. It largely consists of prayerful reading of the Psalms, and while priests and religious are required to pray it, lay people are encouraged to as well. (More information about it here and here.) 

The Liturgy of the Hours is beautiful for many reasons. One of the reasons I love it is because some of the Psalms and prayers are repeated every day, and I am able to begin to memorize them. Since some of the Scripture gets stuck in my head, I’m able to ponder it throughout the day and keep my conversation with the Lord going. It is also a great prayer to pray with your spouse, as traditionally people alternate who reads and who receives. Finally, since it flows from and to the Mass and is prayed by priests, religious, and lay people throughout the world, I have a sense of the unity and fraternity of the whole Body of Christ. I may be alone in my quiet domestic cloister in Virginia, but I am united in prayer and charity with the whole Church interceding for the world.

From this perspective, my quiet home and opportunity for prayer starts to seem more like a gift. Not to say I don’t still get teary eyed in Aldi when I see moms picking out cookie baking supplies with their little girls, or feel a pang of sadness when I receive beautiful Christmas cards adorned with the photos of large families. I definitely do. Yet, the opportunity I have for a life of hidden prayer and silence in my domestic cloister, especially during the season of Advent, is a gift. May we all hold each other in prayer, that we would be more open to the silence and thus more present to God. 

Come, Holy Spirit. Come be present to me in the silence of my domestic cloister that I may encounter You more deeply this Advent. Amen.

Katie Summers and her husband Matthew were married on the eve of Divine Mercy Sunday in 2019 and live in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. She enjoys early morning Holy Hours, coffee dates with Matthew, and good conversations.