For the past 30 years, Mount Auburn Cemetery has hosted an evening Solstice event, and it has become enough a fixture of the local holiday season in Boston that tickets for those nights sell out fairly quickly. What began as a simple candle-lighting ceremony has become an impressive light display outdoors and indoors, too, that evokes the grandeur of the celestial among the graves of the dear departed. The tickets that are the absolute last to go, if you find yourself nearby and hunting for some at the eleventh hour, are those for the so-called “Quiet Hours” at midweek, when the cemetery atmosphere is intentionally more subdued and might feel more suitable for those who are mourning, have sensory integration issues, or are trying to avoid to avoid larger crowds — for whatever reason. People do not mind wandering a cemetery at night, not with others, at least, but they do resist wandering it in silence. That phrase “quiet as the grave” can strike fear in some hearts. Not mine: I have long taken a certain solace in that sort of quiet. This year, I managed to get a ticket for one of these Quiet Hours at Mount Auburn, and last Wednesday, I wandered the graveyard in relative silence, through the dark, alone.
The Reverend Dr. 