I am just back from another monastic visit. Let me clarify. I am a Benedict oblate, which basically means I am a lay Benedictine monk. That sounds much more committed and serious than it probably is. To be an oblate means I affiliate myself with a local Benedictine monastery and do my best to live as spiritually as I can. Most of the time, I would confess that I am not doing my best. I am still too influenced by the culture around me. I still have desires that really don’t align with a fully mature faith. In a word I am far from perfect.
I appreciate my local Benedictine monastery and the brothers in it. They allow me to come as I can and participate in whatever ways I am able. I find my visits there to be humbling and inspiring. I don’t ever feel judged. They encourage me in my own spiritual journey. I know I am not pretending to be a monk. I simply am associating with them because they help me to be the spiritual person I would like to be.
My recent visit to a monastery was not to my local Benedictine monastery. Instead I went back to the Abbey of Gethsemani, the monastery where my old monastic friend, Thomas Merton, called home. Regular readers of this inspirational writing know that I never met Merton. He died in 1968. But I know his writings fairly well and find that he also is a great help in my spiritual pilgrimage. There are parts of Merton’s early Catholic enthusiasm which is not helpful. I suspect most non-Catholic readers of Merton would agree, but even many Catholics I know find the “super-Catholic” period of Merton to be a bit much.
Clearly, the Abbey of Gethsemani was a crucial laboratory for Merton’s spiritual formation. Merton entered late in the year, 1941. WW II was in its early stages and were it not for some health issues, Merton would have been forced to be a soldier instead of a soldier for Christ. So Gethsemani was his base. I am not sure when I first visited Gethsemani. Likely it was when I was a young faculty person at an Indiana college. Gethsemani is located between Louisville and Lexington, Kentucky. I have been back numerous times and have often taken students there.
A few days ago when I drove up to the monastery, it is familiar. I know almost exactly what I am going to find. I know the schedule and I know a few monks personally. I know how meals work, etc., so there is almost nothing to make me uncomfortable. And positively, I also know what to expect. This time was no disappointment. So why do I keep going back? I still have no intention to become a monk.
I know when I walk onto the monastic grounds, a different atmosphere envelopes me. It is difficult to communicate, but it is as if the spirit of the place displaces my own secular spirit. I may have been listening to classic rock ‘n roll on the radio, but when I leave the car, different music is going to dominate. One is not there long before the sound of the bells begins to do their formative work. The function of the bells is to rearrange life.
The Trappists, as the monks there are called, worship seven times a day. The first appearance in the chapel happens at 3:15am. The last one of the day is called Compline and is designed to put me to bed soon after 7:30pm. The bells direct me through my day. Being at the monastery, then, re-schedules my days. There is a clear rhythm: worship, eat, work and rest. I could try to do the same thing while I am at home, but there are too many other things going on to be this regular in schedule.
Being at the monastery is more than schedule. It is content, too. No one can spend that much time in a context of worship and not be informed and formed. For example, at virtually every worship gathering, a couple of the Psalms are read. The Psalms are a spiritual trip. Some are feel good Psalms, which are the ones most Protestants heard growing up. Other Psalms show God being angry and some have the Psalmist angry, too. They are a good representations of life over the long haul.
Most of all, what I like when I am at the monastery is the spirit. I am never sure how to type that: spirit or Spirit? No doubt, it does not matter, because one is likely the other. Somehow for me the Spirit is closer to the surface at Gethsemani, which is what makes Spirit part of the spirit of the place. When I am there, I feel present. This is easy because the Spirit is a Presence, one of my favorite ways of talking about God. I feel present to the Presence. For most people that happens at the Eucharist or communion, but maybe because I am Quaker, Presence can be experienced anywhere at any place.
Being at Gethsemani is an experience of continual communion. It is hopefully a communion with God, but it is also a communion with others. For this I am grateful. My goal is to develop an attitude of gratitude. The challenge is to take this with me in the car when I drive home.
And now that I am home, to live it out when the Presence does not seem quite as present.
I appreciate my local Benedictine monastery and the brothers in it. They allow me to come as I can and participate in whatever ways I am able. I find my visits there to be humbling and inspiring. I don’t ever feel judged. They encourage me in my own spiritual journey. I know I am not pretending to be a monk. I simply am associating with them because they help me to be the spiritual person I would like to be.
My recent visit to a monastery was not to my local Benedictine monastery. Instead I went back to the Abbey of Gethsemani, the monastery where my old monastic friend, Thomas Merton, called home. Regular readers of this inspirational writing know that I never met Merton. He died in 1968. But I know his writings fairly well and find that he also is a great help in my spiritual pilgrimage. There are parts of Merton’s early Catholic enthusiasm which is not helpful. I suspect most non-Catholic readers of Merton would agree, but even many Catholics I know find the “super-Catholic” period of Merton to be a bit much.
Clearly, the Abbey of Gethsemani was a crucial laboratory for Merton’s spiritual formation. Merton entered late in the year, 1941. WW II was in its early stages and were it not for some health issues, Merton would have been forced to be a soldier instead of a soldier for Christ. So Gethsemani was his base. I am not sure when I first visited Gethsemani. Likely it was when I was a young faculty person at an Indiana college. Gethsemani is located between Louisville and Lexington, Kentucky. I have been back numerous times and have often taken students there.
A few days ago when I drove up to the monastery, it is familiar. I know almost exactly what I am going to find. I know the schedule and I know a few monks personally. I know how meals work, etc., so there is almost nothing to make me uncomfortable. And positively, I also know what to expect. This time was no disappointment. So why do I keep going back? I still have no intention to become a monk.
I know when I walk onto the monastic grounds, a different atmosphere envelopes me. It is difficult to communicate, but it is as if the spirit of the place displaces my own secular spirit. I may have been listening to classic rock ‘n roll on the radio, but when I leave the car, different music is going to dominate. One is not there long before the sound of the bells begins to do their formative work. The function of the bells is to rearrange life.
The Trappists, as the monks there are called, worship seven times a day. The first appearance in the chapel happens at 3:15am. The last one of the day is called Compline and is designed to put me to bed soon after 7:30pm. The bells direct me through my day. Being at the monastery, then, re-schedules my days. There is a clear rhythm: worship, eat, work and rest. I could try to do the same thing while I am at home, but there are too many other things going on to be this regular in schedule.
Being at the monastery is more than schedule. It is content, too. No one can spend that much time in a context of worship and not be informed and formed. For example, at virtually every worship gathering, a couple of the Psalms are read. The Psalms are a spiritual trip. Some are feel good Psalms, which are the ones most Protestants heard growing up. Other Psalms show God being angry and some have the Psalmist angry, too. They are a good representations of life over the long haul.
Most of all, what I like when I am at the monastery is the spirit. I am never sure how to type that: spirit or Spirit? No doubt, it does not matter, because one is likely the other. Somehow for me the Spirit is closer to the surface at Gethsemani, which is what makes Spirit part of the spirit of the place. When I am there, I feel present. This is easy because the Spirit is a Presence, one of my favorite ways of talking about God. I feel present to the Presence. For most people that happens at the Eucharist or communion, but maybe because I am Quaker, Presence can be experienced anywhere at any place.
Being at Gethsemani is an experience of continual communion. It is hopefully a communion with God, but it is also a communion with others. For this I am grateful. My goal is to develop an attitude of gratitude. The challenge is to take this with me in the car when I drive home.
And now that I am home, to live it out when the Presence does not seem quite as present.
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