All silences are not silent:
most are filled with meaning.
One, whose nothingness is
pregnant, comes after the end
of the introduction to “Handel’s
Messiah”: A long, waiting silence:
I hold my breath. When the
silence can last no longer, the
voice of the tenor comes:
“Comfort ye, comfort ye, my
people.” And the music flows on.
This article appears in December 4-10, 2025.
