It is probably not surprising that my mind and reflections are focused on the weekend spent with a group of students in a Trappist monastery nestled in the hills of Kentucky. It is also not surprising to know the students are what make the whole adventure worth the effort. And there was some effort. Getting a bunch of college students for a seven-hour trek is not easy. But they were eager. I was expectant and that matched their eagerness.
The last time I was there, it was snowy. I had never seen the monastery snow-covered
and glistening white. Somehow the
weather becomes more real when I am in a monastic setting. This time I knew it was going to be cold in
the morning and beautifully sunny during the day. Indeed it was. Morning greeted us with a cold rain. And then came the warm sun. In that kind of setting, I think the weather
reveals something of God’s Spirit.
It reveals there is a nature in which we all live, move, and
have our being…and seldom pay much attention.
Most of the time, we hop in cars, windows tightly protecting us from the
elements, noise, and “otherness” of our world, and ride away. Somehow being in a monastic setting rivets
one’s attention.
Even though we drove there, when you step out, you are in a
different world. And this world turned
out to be a fantastic fall day. The
colors embraced the monastery I have seen in other seasons. But for the students, it was their first
time. They probably will never think
about Gethsemani without beauty, without color, without the purity of their
first experience.
Oddly enough, the dress of Cistercian monks (for that is
what the Trappists are: Cistercians of the Strict Observance) is white. And the inside of the cloister church is all
white with only the brown beams high above the ceiling. White is the color of purity. And for many, if not all of us, purifying is
one aspect of the weekend.
We came away more pure, more whole, more centered. We know we have now returned to the land of
our normal reality…classes, meetings, readings, and the rest. But we have been to the land of the pure, the
white country. And if we are lucky, and
if God is providential, we will never be the same!
There is a Psalm which says something to the effect, “seven
times a day should you pray.” These
Cistercian monks have taken that literally!
So seven times a day we “went to church with them.” They chant Psalms, they sing, and they
meditate. There is very little
preaching. In almost every respect, they
leave the individual to wrestle with the God about whom so much is said.
I come away wondering how many times I have chanted the
Doxology….thirty or forty times daily?
It is praising “the God who is, who was, and who is to come…” I like this description of “God who is”…but
no attempt to tell me more. God
is…..…and you make whatever you make out of the God who comes to you. It’s that simple.
A theologian is someone who tries to explain “who God
is.” And this explanation can get pretty
sophisticated! I can only imagine one of
my monk friends smiling at the theologian.
A Trappist monk, committed to silence as he is (yes, we had a great deal
of non-talking), would lead us into the Doxology to experience “the God who
is…”
I cannot explain “the God who is…” I know as best I can know, that I experienced
that God. That God was in the darkness
of the monastic chants at 3:30am! That
God somehow swirled in the fallen leaves…or maybe, God swirled the leaves?
I come back home fully aware there is nothing in my life
which proves God exists. If I were to
hold out for a proof, I will hold out forever!
But a weekend in the monastery provides evidence….and it is pretty
normal evidence: students, fallen leaves, and serendipity. I can affirm the “God who is…”
Comments
Post a Comment