Cardinal Mykola Bychok recently experienced a profound gift in the heart of the Vatican: sacred silence. As the only Ukrainian-born and Melbourne-based prelate participating in the papal conclave, he found himself secluded in the Sistine Chapel with 132 other cardinals – completely cut off from the outside world. In that hushed atmosphere under Michelangelo’s frescoes, no phones buzzed, no news alerts flashed. Instead, there was only stillness and prayer.
“During the conclave I was completely in peace,” Cardinal Bychok reflected, describing how being “locked up” in total quiet left him with one clear course of action: “What should I do? Just take [the] rosary and pray,” as reported by ABC in Australia.
This enforced pause from noise became, as he beautifully put it, “a beautiful moment in my life. Nobody disturbs you.” The days in the chapel unfolded “in complete peace, tranquility, and grace of the Holy Spirit,” he added, cherishing the rare chance to be utterly present with God.
Such words paint a serene picture of the conclave’s inner life – a scene far removed from the frantic pace many of us live each day. Imagine for a moment being unreachable for two whole days, enveloped by silence and sacred art. For Cardinal Bychok, this was not a hardship but a heavenly respite. In fact, the prayerful quiet "is an appeal to the Holy Spirit, an appeal to the Holy Spirit to guide our vote and our actions, so that the person who is the best among all is truly chosen," as shared by CSSR News.
As the Cardinal noted, Hollywood’s recent film Conclave missed this essential truth of the experience – in real life, the first and constant task of the cardinals was prayer, as he explained:
“The film did not show a single moment when the bishops pray … Practically the first mission at the conclave is the prayer of the cardinals.”
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The joy of shutting off the world
Stepping out of that cocoon of silence, Cardinal Bychok shared an unexpected delight from the experience: the uplifting freedom of being disconnected. In a light-hearted press briefing after the conclave, he actually joked "it was a relief to shut off the outside world” for a few days. “That was the best time of my life,” he said with a smile, referring to the conclave’s strict technology blackout.
For 60 hours, his smartphone lay powered down – and he felt completely at ease. And the youngest cardinal at the conclave challenged the rest of us to try a mini digital detox of our own:
“Just try … try to turn off your phone at least for 24 hours – my phone was turned off for two and a half days.”
It’s advice delivered partly in jest, but the Cardinal’s beaming demeanor showed he meant it: There is real joy in occasionally unplugging.
After those two and a half days offline, he returned to find a phone bursting with missed messages (and yes, “I still should read” them, he laughed). But rather than feeling anxious about the backlog, he seemed refreshed. The world had kept turning without him, and in the meantime he had been gifted clarity. The absence of constant updates and pings cleared space in his mind and soul.
Cardinal Bychok’s testimony highlights what many mental health experts tell us: Stepping away from our screens can rejuvenate our minds. In his case, it also rejuvenated his spirit. By disconnecting from the noise of the world, he was able to reconnect with God and with his own inner peace in a more profound way.
Reclaiming silence in our own lives
Cardinal Bychok’s conclave experience offers a gentle challenge to all of us. In a world that craves constant connectivity, his story is a reminder that sometimes the soul craves the opposite. There is a reason spiritual traditions across centuries speak of finding God in stillness. When we willingly step back from the chatter, we make room for something richer: deeper conversations with loved ones, honest introspection, and heartfelt prayer.
The Cardinal’s joy in turning off his phone is a modern witness to this ancient truth. You don’t have to be electing a pope to embrace a little conclave-inspired calm. Perhaps we can start small – an hour of quiet with the phone on airplane mode, a walk outside without music or podcasts, or an evening ritual of screen-free prayer time. These little sabbaths from technology can be surprisingly uplifting. They may improve our mental health by reducing stress and FOMO (fear of missing out), and they certainly can open a door for more meaningful reflection.
In the same way, Cardinal Bychok’s testimony invites us to try trading some screen time for sacred time – to swap the glow of our phones for the gentle glow of a candle or the sunrise, even if just for a day.
