I waste a bunch of time defending myself. Mind you the words never hit the air, but they ricochet between my ears like an eight ball that refuses to land in the pocket. Whether it is an explanation about why I am late, or an excuse for sloppy driving, I carry on with the illusion that someone needs to know why I failed. 

 

One of the poignant moments in the Easter story is when Jesus says nothing. Pilate is interrogating him, trying to avoid a potentially explosive circumstance. But Jesus seems unperturbed by the possibility of a gruesome death. 

 

"Therefore, when Pilate heard that saying, he was the more afraid,  and went again into the Praetorium, and said to Jesus, 'Where are You from?' But Jesus gave him no answer." John 19

 

Another time Jesus had nothing to say. 

 

"And when they had set her in the midst,  they said to Him, 'Teacher, this woman was caught in adultery, in the very act.  Now Moses, in the law, commanded us that such should be stoned. But what do You say?'  This they said, testing Him, that they might have something of which to accuse Him. But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger, as though He did not hear." John 8

 

These two scenes suggest to me that having a pithy comeback is not always the epitome of wisdom. Sometimes it is our response that speaks like thunder. The echoes of those silences are still reverberating. 

 

Recently I watched a video about the enigmatic story of Noah getting drunk in his tent. The words and ideas packed into an hour are poignant, and I am still pondering them. But the part that moved me to tears was the segment when they showed images of people offering compassion unencumbered by words. (minute 42)