When the Sacred Feels Silent: A Reflection on Shame and Spiritual Disconnect

After nearly three weeks of deeply meaningful travel through Portugal and London, full of ancestral reconnection and emotional awakenings, one stop on our journey left me surprisingly hollow: Fátima.

If you read my last post, you know how much this trip meant to me and my family. We traced our roots through the Azores, connected with long-lost cousins, and walked with reverence through the streets of Porto and Lisbon. And in the middle of it all, we visited Fátima—a pilgrimage site so important to Portuguese Catholics, and especially to my mother, that it felt like the spiritual centerpiece of our journey.

Mass at the Chapel of the Apparitions, the very site where the Virgin Mary is believed to have appeared to the shepherd children in 1917.

We lit candles. We prayed. We attended Mass. My mother sobbed openly at the graves of Francisco and Jacinta, tears of gratitude, healing, and fulfillment. For her, it was a dream realized—a bucket-list moment of sacred return.

And me?

I felt nothing.

Not anger. Not pain. Not confusion. Just… blank. Still. Disconnected.

It reminded me of the song sung by Morales in A Chorus Line:

"Nothing. I'm feeling nothing."

I kept waiting for the presence I usually feel. The whispers. The knowing. The flood of intuitive insight I so often receive while sitting in my backyard, walking along the Monterey coast, or visiting sacred shrines in Japan. But here? In one of the most holy places for Portuguese Catholics? I felt... spiritually vacant.

I went through the motions—offering silent prayers, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with my family, holding my mother as she wept—but inside, I was searching for connection and not finding it.

And afterward, shame crept in.

What kind of intuitive doesn’t feel something here? What kind of guide is spiritually offline in a place like this? Why am I not moved the way everyone else seems to be?

It took some time, distance, and tenderness to understand that this, too, was part of the journey. That not every sacred space will crack us open. That sometimes the most spiritual growth comes not in the fireworks of revelation, but in the silence of unmet expectation.

Because sometimes, we build something up in our hearts so much that we forget to leave room for what actually is.

And sometimes, what is... is nothing.

And that’s okay.

But here’s the thing: even though I didn’t feel a spiritual spark, emotionally it was still one of the most profound moments of our trip. To stand beside my mother as she lived out a lifelong dream, to hold her as she cried tears of awe and fulfillment—that was sacred. Sacred in a different way. A quieter, more relational way. And that matters too.

The tomb of Saint Jacinta Marto, the youngest non-martyred child ever canonized by the Catholic Church.

When We Feel Nothing

We all have moments like this.

The relationship that didn’t heal us the way we thought it would. The ceremony that felt flat instead of transformative. The conversation we hoped would bring closure, but left us more confused.

Disappointment wrapped in shame can feel like failure. But more often than not, it’s a signpost. A whisper from our soul saying:

"This moment might not be about magic. It might be about making peace with not knowing."

Reflection Prompts

If you’ve ever had a moment like this, here are some gentle prompts to sit with:

• What expectation did I bring into the moment?

• What did I hope to feel, receive, or release?

• Is it possible that what I needed was different from what I expected?

• Can I honor the moment for what it was, not what I hoped it would be?

Pilgrims' candles burn brightly in Fátima—an offering of hopes, prayers, and remembrance.

A Ritual for the Quiet Moments

You will need:

• A small candle

• A blank sheet of paper and a pen

• A bowl of water or a safe place to burn paper (optional)

1. Light the candle. Let it represent your intention to meet yourself with compassion.

2. Write the moment down. Describe the scene: where you were, what you hoped for, and what didn’t happen.

3. Name the feelings. Without judgment, name what came up—shame, disappointment, confusion, anger, nothingness.

4. Release. Tear up the paper and dispose of it safely by submerging it in water or burning it. As you do, say aloud or silently, "I release the shame of this moment. It does not define me."

5. Breathe. Close your eyes and take three deep breaths. Thank yourself for being willing to show up, even when the magic didn’t.

   
   

Final Thought

If you’ve ever found yourself in a sacred place feeling unsacred, know this: you are not broken. You are no less spiritual. You are not missing the point.

You are human.

Sometimes, the silence is the invitation. Sometimes, the stillness is the ceremony.

And always, always: your journey is worthy.

Even when you feel nothing.