Is Silence Golden?

By Rev. Dr. Heather Clark

When I was a girl, I loved the song “Silence Is Golden.” I was moved by the lyrics. I felt sad for the boy who liked the girl and wanted to protect her from another boy’s dishonesty. (Too much television or too many books? I guess I loved high drama!)

Some of the lyrics are:

“Silence is golden, but my eyes still see…
How could she tell, he deceived her so well?
Maybe she’ll be the last one to know.”

I was sixteen. I had not yet experienced great disappointments. My family was normal—we had our ups and downs like everyone else.

Even today, when I hear The Four Seasons sing “Silence Is Golden,” I feel the emotion and begin to cry. And then I ask myself: What is really going on?

I am sad about the violence and war in our world. I am sad about the dishonesty I perceive in the highest offices of leadership.

My heart hurts.

So I ask myself:
What is the truth here?
What are the questions I need to be asking?

I grieve what feels like a fall from decency and grace in my chosen nation. And of course, I must turn inward as well: How am I disappointing myself?

Is silence better than speaking out?
This is a question I have wrestled with often in my ministry.

Why do I remain silent?
Why has it taken me so long to write to you?

My greatest hope is that you will read this and reflect. What is most important to you? Do you speak about what matters—regardless of who may agree or disagree?

I want to speak truthfully about myself—about how I am really feeling, and how deeply saddened I am by what is happening in the United States.

Now I feel I must speak. I can no longer pretend that it doesn’t matter to me.

Being referred to as the “51st state” was deeply disrespectful. Snide remarks about my country of origin, along with hateful comments from leaders in my other country, have been painful. Canada is smaller in many ways, but we are proud of who we are.

When I was last in California, I spoke in Bonita at the Center for Spiritual Living. Bonita is where I first served as Senior Minister. I left in June 1999 to serve at the Center for Spiritual Living Capistrano Valley, and I did not return as a guest speaker until 2024. (The only time I’ve come back to California and not attended services in San Clemente!)

It was wonderful to reconnect with long-time friends—though I missed seeing many of you.

In Bonita, I asked the musician to play “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” My cats were once named Woody and Buzz Lightyear, characters from Toy Story, a series centered on friendship. I wanted people to remember: we are all in this life together. I wanted to show up as an old friend.

I also shared how difficult it has been for me to hear Canada treated with disrespect by the President. It has been hurtful—not only to me, but to millions of Canadians. I kept hoping it would stop. It has not.

That same Sunday, several young women stayed after the service. They spoke about how hard it has been to live with ICE raids happening around them. Their fear was real.

And yet—I have been proud of you.

You have exercised your First Amendment rights by marching peacefully and reminding the world that we do not have kings in the United States. We have a republic—of the people, by the people, for the people.

I have been especially moved by the people in Minneapolis–Saint Paul—neighbors feeding neighbors, ensuring children get to school safely, organizing to live their values.

This is love in action.

I grieve, too.
For Alex Pretti’s family—for his parents, his patients, his colleagues.
For Renee Nicole Good—for her children, her wife, and all who loved her.
For members of our own community, like June Dickson, who lived long and meaningful lives. I miss her. I miss her hugs.

I miss “our home.”

And yet, I know our community is not defined by a building. It is defined by you—by our ministers and practitioners, by our sacred work, by our shared visioning and collective mission. It is defined by our willingness to see beyond differences and recognize the spiritual truth that connects us.

I miss all of you.

And still, I will not return while the current administration remains in Washington.

To explain this more fully, let me share a bit of my history.

My very first Sunday speaking in Bonita, in 1993, fell on July 1—Canada Day. Our wonderful musician prepared Canadian patriotic songs for the service. It was such a kind gesture. Yet at that time, I felt more connected to American patriotic music than Canadian.

An unexpected gift from this President has been the restoration of my love for my own country. Today, I am a deeply patriotic Canadian. I can sing “O Canada” with my whole heart.

In 2016, I felt concerned—but also powerless. A dear friend and benefactor, Faith Strong, told me I was being dishonest: enjoying the privileges of citizenship without participating in the responsibility to vote.

Her words stung.

So I applied for citizenship. I studied for my civics test, was interviewed, and learned more about our government, our history, and our responsibilities. I realized that voting is both a right and a responsibility.

Since then, I have voted in every election.

One vote may seem small—but together, our votes matter.

In the background of my thoughts, I hear a song from 1988 by Mike and the Mechanics:

“So don’t yield to the fortunes you sometimes see as fate…
And if you don’t give up, and don’t give in, you may just be okay.
So say it loud, say it loud, say it clear…
Because it’s too late when we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye.”

To love the world as it is, and ourselves as we are—and to speak when something diminishes any of us—that is the love that heals.

Ernest Holmes and Raymond Charles Barker wrote in 365 Days of Richer Living:

“I promise myself and all others to live as though the kingdom of God were at hand for all people. I accept a good beyond my fondest imagination… Today I accept my good.”

And perhaps this is the question we are each being asked:

Is silence golden… or is it time to speak?

Love, Heather