I ran across an interesting piece by John A. Ostenburg, which is really a journal entry of his. Ostenburg retired recently as mayor of Park Forest, IL, which is a suburb outside of Chicago. He and I have in common an appreciation of Thomas Merton, 20th century monk and spirituality teacher of so many. The piece by Ostenburg is some pages from a journal he kept on a visit to Gethsemani in 1992. Although he had been reading Merton for quite some time, it was his first trip to Merton’s Kentucky monastery. Merton had long been dead, having been tragically killed when he was in Bangkok, Thailand in 1968.
Ostenburg is not a monk; he is married and very much a man of the world compared to the monks at Gethsemani. But he wanted to make a retreat at that hallowed place that Merton called home for twenty-seven years. We can see that in Ostenburg’s first entry on July 14, 1992. He exclaims, “After 30 years of desiring to do so, I finally find myself residing within the walls of Gethsemani monastery---albeit only temporarily.” (25) Having been to Gethsemani numerous times, I can appreciate what he observes and feels.
Early in that same entry he shows what he immediately begins to sense. “This is holy ground, a small patch of Kentucky hillside that has been permeated for nearly 150 years not so much with holiness itself as with the desire for holiness, and it is that desire that constitutes sanctity.” I like his distinction between holiness and the desire for it. Holiness is characteristic of the divinity or the sacred. Rightfully we can say that God is holiness itself. In fact, one of my favorite addresses to God is to call God the Holy One. By virtue of our being created in the image of God, we share in that holiness. However, we are not fully holy. Humans have a way of tainting it with a good dose of sin!
I am impressed with Ostenburg’s sensitivity and his ability to articulate it. This comes through in his recording of his second day on retreat. He is delighted to be at the monastery, but already on Wednesday, he recognizes he must return to the “real world” on Friday. He shares one of his aspirations. “I am desirous of finding the same order for daily life there that I have found here.” (28) I resonate with this. Every time I go to a monastery---Gethsemani or any other monastery---I always hope some of the “way of life” rubs off and I can take it back with me into my normal daily life. It is understandable, but probably a bit of folly.
A monastic setting and our normal life environment are different. The monastic schedule is set. We walk into it and participate in it. But for most of us, we cannot translate this as is into our own daily schedule. My university does not operate on the monastic schedule of worship and work. We must carve our own monastic “way of life” into our daily living. One more observation from Ostenburg helps me see how this might be framed.
The key to the order that Ostenburg senses at Gethsemani leads him to posit, “It is the centrality of purpose within the monastery, one that both monks and retreatants share. It is the sincere desire to dedicate every action, every word, from morning till night, to the greater glory and honor of God.” Again, this makes sense to me. I love the notion of “centrality of purpose.” One’s purpose is the “why” of our lives. In my own research I know how powerful purpose is for high performance. Purpose gives us something beyond the ordinary. Purpose allows individuals on a team to transcend their own selfish desires and put the team ahead of themselves.
The same thing is true in our lives. If we can have a purpose and be clear about it, then likely we find life more focused and more meaningful. Of course, people can have different purposes. My purpose in life is not the same thing as someone else’s purpose. Working with college-age students, I recognize helping them think about and find their own purpose is an important aspect of my efforts. I think Ostenburg is correct. The purpose of all folks at Gethsemani is to dedicate all activity---and even one’s life---to the glory of God. They structure their life---their day and actions---to pull off this quest for purpose.
Ostenburg recognizes how hard it is to stay focused on the centrality of purpose. I don’t really know whether it is more difficult in the “real world,” but it sure seems to be the case. Ostenburg gives me a hint why this might be. He admits that the way things are structured in the monastery is not the same as Park Forest, IL. He ponders his exit in two days and laments, “By the time I get to Culvertown on Friday I will already be in the midst of a multi-purposed world---one where the will of God by and large is far removed from being primary---and that is chaos.” Culvertown is only six miles from the monastery!
He is perceptive. Most of us inhabit a multi-purposed world. In fact, many of us have multi-purposed lives. Even on our own, we invent and occupy our own chaos. When we are doing our own agenda, the will of God slips to the side or completely disappears. We no longer have a centrality of purpose. We might feel lost or empty. We can be wistful about our time in the monastery.
But we only have one real choice in our real world: discover the centrality of purpose and keep it center and focused. Orient ourselves in that direction and trust that God is in the process with us.
The Merton Seasonal, Summer, 2021
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