I have had the occasion to be back at Gethsemani, the monastery where my favorite monk, Thomas Merton, lived until his untimely death in 1968. I like going to monasteries, which may be a bit strange for a guy who grew up a Quaker. As a kid, if you had asked me what a monastery was, I am sure there would only have been a blank stare. I am confident I did not meet a monk until I was in graduate school.
Of course, in school most of us read about monks. Many of them were involved in making history,
especially during the medieval period.
Meeting a monk or two helped me begin to develop an appreciation for not
only them as people, but for their way of life.
It really is foreign to the way I grew up and from the way of life of
the people who taught me about religion.
In my early formative days it was still pre-Vatican II, so the Catholic
Church was off limits.
Then I began to develop a fascination with the monastic
tradition. Monks were more than merely a
curiosity factor. I came to appreciate
their calling, their discipline and dedication.
More than most people I knew, they lived their faith in impressive
ways. Of course, it is easy to idealize
something when you don’t know anything about it. But I did come to learn a great deal about
the monastic life. Surely one of my good
teachers was Thomas Merton. And I never
met him.
Gethsemani is an impressive place. There is a relatively small community of
about forty monks there now. In Merton’s
heyday in the 50s and 60s, there would have been some two hundred fifty. And other monks left Gethsemani to form
daughter houses. I wish I could have
known Gethsemani in those heady days.
When you come around a corner of one of those Kentucky
hills, Gethsemani suddenly looms in all its majesty. Every time I go there, I am struck by how big
it is. Above the apse, where the altar
is found, looms a tall tower. The nave,
where the worshippers gather has rather high ceilings. But outside, it is the tower that dominates
the majesty of the building. And that is
precisely what the tower symbolizes for me: majesty.
Ironically, I like to think about the monks as
majestic. I am sure there would be
guffaws of laughter if they heard me claim this for them. The monks at Gethsemani take three vows: obedience,
stability and fidelity to the monastic life (mainly a commitment to stay in one
place and develop spiritually). In other
words, at Gethsemani the monks agree to abide under the tower until they die.
I would like to think the tower symbolizes the heights to
which they grow spiritually. Why not
aspire to great things, when you sign on for life! They sky is the limit. But this aspirational spiritual growth should
never lead to pride or arrogance. In
fact, the Rule of St. Benedict spends
more time talking about humility than any other single thing---more irony!
I am challenged by the tower of Gethsemani---the literal and
figurative tower. I have a tower on top
of my building at the university. Other
than signaling that this is my building, I don’t know that it symbolizes much
else. It is interesting architecture,
but that is about all.
I am going to adopt Gethsemani’s tower for my own personal,
aspirational desire for spiritual growth and development. My spirit desires to be stretched and pulled
upward. Too easily I settle for too
little. Even a flat-lander like me can
have an imposing tower to challenge.
The other feature of life at Gethsemani is power. Perhaps, it is simply because I am a
visitor. But I experience monastic power
every time I go there. Now I do not
think being a monk is any more noble than being spiritual in any other
context. However, they have made a
commitment, a promise and intention to become empowered by the Spirit. Again, they do it humbly. Monastic power is not gaudy or off-putting. Some folks would simply say they are
comfortable in their own skin.
Monastic power is unlike the kind of power we tend to see
outside the monastery. Of course, they
are not perfect. Monasteries can be
political. Many people join a monastery,
only to find out that way of life is not for them, and then they leave. But when the monastery has done its spiritual
development, you will see a man or woman with incredible power.
Monastic power is power to make a difference. On the surface a monk seems utterly
useless. Beneath the surface, monastic
power can be a difference maker. But
finally, it is not monastic power. It is
the Spirit who is Power that has taken up abode in the monk.
You and I can have that same kind of Spirit-presence. We can become a tower of strength, people of
power capable of making a huge difference in the world. Let’s go.
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