Silence and Beauty - A Lenten Meditation From Cardinal Sarah

Finally - the Lenten meditation post I promised. Hopefully it's worth something, because otherwise, I have failed in quality as well as timing and length thereof, I'm afraid... for which I apologize. Anyways, though, I mean (and meant) to make these posts a tradition, but obviously I kind-of failed last year. Here is the original Lenten post that I did (concerning the song of Violetta Valery and Lenten sacrifice).

It's very strange sometimes how much one word can do. Oftentimes, we human beings can become as distraught or as fluttery as anything just because of one word. But sometimes it's less than one word that does the most.
Silence is a strange thing. It's not noiselessness or noise, and it can sometimes be sound. Silence is, perhaps, best defined as the real quieting of oneself to truly appreciate a thing. Who can concentrate on Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologiae whilst working out math problems? Who can gaze at the Sistine Chapel when a vaudevillian is dancing away beside them? Who can possibly speak and still hear the last, heart-rending tones of Verdi's La Traviata as they should be heard? As Cardinal Sarah points out in his amazing book, The Power of Silence, without silence, there is nothing we can enjoy; at best, we can placate or numb ourselves with half-attentive entertainment that is shallow and light enough for us to take without proper concentration. How much more is this so for things more consuming than recreation?
Silence is the voice of God, for it is all beauty, and without it beauty is pointless, it is all truth, for nothing is more real and true than deep silence, and it is all goodness, for, without it, no one has a hope of prospering in virtue. There's not too much that's harder to accomplish, though. Meditation has always been a difficulty for me, at least, and I know many people who feel the same way. When you are expected to give everything you have - body, mind, emotions, everything - to only one thing, it is so hard. In this day and age, it is an accomplishment even to be half-invested in something. To exercise our every power towards one cause seems, well, sometimes unbearable. But this is what silence is; in fact, this is what God is: the whole of a thing, uninterrupted and unblemished, lacking in nothing. God is existence itself, the fullness of all three eternal goods, Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. So it seems strange that He should dwell in silence - isn't silence just a lack of sound? Isn't it just nothing? How can God, He Who Is, by His Nature have anything to do with silence?

Silence is not the lack of sounds. Silence is unification of everything one has towards one cause. Christ Himself points out that a cause which is divided won't get anywhere. So we have to be devoted to something. That thing will either be nothing - all the meaningless noise and distraction that infiltrates us constantly - or it will be God, the full unification of everything that is good - silence.
So... maybe there was some rambling getting to it, but my point is that we need to distance ourselves via silence for a little while, especially in this Lenten season. If everything is pointless without God, then we need to listen to Him by quieting ourselves.
If we cannot give even our silence to God for Lent, then how can we expect to give our souls?