There is something almost mysterious about this simple scene from Matthew’s Gospel. Jesus has spent the day surrounded by people. He has taught them, ministered to them, and responded to their needs. Yet when the day is finished, Jesus does something very intentional:
He withdraws. He goes up the mountain by Himself to pray. He goes to be alone with the Father.
Those words invite us to pause because we live in a world that has become increasingly uncomfortable with being alone. We fill our days with activity, conversation, entertainment, technology, social media, and constant connection. Even when we are physically alone, we can remain surrounded by noise.
And yet Jesus shows us something profoundly different. There is a difference between being alone and being lonely.
Loneliness is the painful experience of feeling disconnected, forgotten, or abandoned. Solitude, however, can be something entirely different. Solitude is the intentional decision to step away from the noise so that we can become present to God.
The mountain itself is not what makes the encounter possible. What matters is that Jesus intentionally removes Himself from the demands and distractions around Him. He creates space for God.
Perhaps we need our own mountain. It may not be an actual mountain. It may be a quiet room before the rest of the household awakens. It may be a walk, a drive, a quiet church, time before the Blessed Sacrament, or simply sitting quietly at the end of the day.
Sometimes we are afraid of silence because silence allows us to hear what is happening inside us. When everything becomes quiet, our worries, disappointments, fears, regrets, and unanswered questions can become more noticeable.
Yet one of the great lessons of Jesus’ solitude is that prayer is not always about saying more. Sometimes prayer is simply being present.
“Lord, I am here. You are here. I am with You.” And then we can be silent.
We do not have to impress God with our words. We do not have to explain ourselves. We do not have to prove our worthiness. We simply allow ourselves to be present to the One who already knows us completely and loves us completely.
The absence of people does not mean the absence of God. Sometimes the quietest seasons of our lives can become the places where we discover God most deeply.
What feels like emptiness can become an invitation. What feels like loneliness can become solitude. What feels like silence can become prayer. And what feels like being alone can become an awareness of the One who has never left us.
He is there. In the silence. In the uncertainty. In the waiting. In the evening. On the mountain. And in the ordinary moments when we finally become quiet enough to recognize Him.
Turn off the noise. Put down the phone. Step away from the demands. Find a quiet place. Sit with Christ. And for a few moments, don’t ask Him for anything.
Simply remain there.
Then allow the silence to become prayer. Because the truth Jesus reveals on that mountain is one we need to remember throughout our lives. We are never alone when we are with the Lord: In Him, with Him, and Through Him.
