Some New Books to Explore
If this were an ideal world and I had all the time in the universe to do everything I would like, I’d be reading all sorts of books — and writing lengthy reviews of many of them on this blog. But, alas, ours is not an ideal world, and so like everyone else I have to make do. And so, in that spirit of making do, here are a few brief comments about some interesting books that have come to my attention lately. Some of them are new and some have been around for a while, but I think they are all worth a look. If my brief comments pique your interest, then please click on the cover images or the title links to purchase your own copies. I should also mention, in the interest of full disclosure, that each of these books (except for the Merton titles) were sent to me gratis from the publishers. Of course, there are plenty of other books that publishers send me that I never mention on the blog, so I hope you’ll take my words at face value.
First of all, for all you breviary addicts (I know you’re out there), two of my favorite young writers — Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove — have joined forces with Enuma Okoro to develop Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals. This ecumenical/interdenominational resource offers a weekly round of evening prayers, along with a complete annual cycle of morning prayers, a mid-day office, and a selection of prayers for special occasions. Various saints and heroes of the faith are commemorated, ranging from Thomas Merton to Julian of Norwich to Martin Luther King, Jr. to dear Saint Benedict. As someone who has prayed the Roman liturgy for some time now, there are to my mind real limitations to this breviary: no office of compline, no structuring of the Daily Office to echo the cosmos and the human lifespan in each daily round of prayers. But I don’t this book is intended to replace existing liturgies like the Roman or Anglican offices. Rather I think it’s meant to be an introduction to liturgical prayer for a young generation of evangelicals, who have grown up in a church where singing contemporary praise music is about as liturgical as it gets. In that sense, I think this a brilliant and much-needed resource. And for liturgy snobs like me, it’s a wonderful addition to the library, with some wonderful prayers and commemorations geared toward a spirituality anchored in the call to justice. Another nice touch: each month the book features one of the “twelve marks” of neo-monasticism.
There are a lot of books available on Benedictine spirituality. Many of them are written by laypersons who may never have lived in a monastery (authors like Esther de Waal and Norvene Vest); others are written by monks but primarily for monks (Terrence Kardong, Adalbert de Vogüé). Please don’t misunderstand me — most of such books are wonderful, and I don’t mean to criticize the authors I’ve listed; I like works by all of them). But what makes Lessons from Saint Benedict: Finding Joy in Daily Life a noteworthy book is that its author, Donald S. Raila, is an oblate master at a large Benedictine abbey, specifically writing for oblates: men and women who are not monks, but who have placed themselves under the spiritual guidance of monks and who seek to conduct their secular lives according to the wisdom of Benedict. Buddhists talk about “taking refuge” as the initiation into the life of following the dharma; for Benedictine oblates (and their counterparts, lay Cistercians), there is a similar sense of “taking refuge” under the guidance of the monks at a particular monastery. As the master of oblates at St. Vincent’s Archabbey, Fr. Raila writes a quarterly letter to the oblates on an aspect of the Rule and Benedictine spirituality; this book gathers 26 of those letters. Raila’s writing is homey and down-t0-earth; he recognizes that the key to applying Benedictine wisdom is to see how it makes a difference in the most ordinary circumstances of life, from travel delays to hernias to a wristwatch that runs just a few seconds slow each day. Raila understands that spirituality is all about the slow and unglamorous transformation of every moment of life, and his thoughtful but accessible insights are ideal invitations to meditation and reflection.
The Sin Eater: A Breviary is not a liturgical work per se, but an anthology of poems and photographs evocative of a lost age of Celtic spirituality. Undertakers Thomas and Michael Lynch (father and son) share an Irish eye for beauty that can be found hidden in the most stark and unadorned of places; this cycle of carefully structured poems, each illustrated by a sombre black and white photograph, invite the reader into the life of Argyle, the titular sin-eater and perhaps Thomas’ alter ego. The sin-eater is a liminal figure (neither pagan nor priest, neither therapist nor healer, neither magician nor mystic) who symbolizes — or, perhaps, sacramentalizes? — the borderlines between religion and spirituality, between culture and nature, between death and life, all situated in the hidden-away setting of the Lynchs’ ancestral Irish home. Earthy, blunt language of death and decay — but also eros and irony — dance through these poems, where the hidden presence of the Divine is found not through pious formula, but evoked by honesty and wonder.
Finally, I’d like to briefly mention a series of books published by Fons Vitae, celebrating the ecumenical and interfaith dimensions of Thomas Merton’s work. These collections: Merton & Buddhism, Merton & Hesychasm, Merton & Judaism and Merton & Sufism, gather together writings of Merton with relevant essays by Merton scholars exploring his relationship with each of four traditions outside his own. These books certainly will help to solidify Merton’s reputation as the patron saint of ecumenical and interfaith contemplatives. Grab the one that most appeals to you — or if you are as intellectually curious as Merton himself, read all four.
Simplicity and Prayer
The Abbey Church at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit. Image via Wikipedia
In the simple promises for the junior lay associates (Lay Cistercians) of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, we promise, among other things, to live “life in simplicity and prayer.” I love that juxtaposition. Prayer and simplicity go together so beautifully, it seems to me, that one of the best ways to cultivate in our hearts the space for prayer is by allowing things to be simple. I don’t mean simple in the sense of not very smart, but simple in the sense of what Taoists call wu-wei, or “going with the flow” or “acting naturally.” It’s what some Christian thinkers call “second simplicity” — not the pre-rational simplicity of a small child, but rather the trans-rational perspective of one who has recognized that life is filled with and surrounded by mystery, and allowing such mystery to just be, liberates us to focus on the important things: cultivating fearlessness, and kindness, and compassion; love of neighbors, and fostering a contemplative stance, beholding God as not just something done for a half hour each morning, but as an ongoing way of life.
We can think ourselves into knots, especially around the propositional ideas within religion: “how can an all-good God permit suffering and evil?” “why would God require belief in one particular person, i.e. Christ, in order for us to be acceptable to him?” “how can we reconcile the concept of hell with an all-loving deity?” and on and on. By the time I was in High School, questions like this burdened my faith. Looking back, I see their importance, in that wrestling with these issues helped me to move beyond the naive simplicity of childhood into an adulthood in which I learned to discern my own conscience, to think for myself, and to take responsibility for my own actions, not just motivated by a reward/punishment system. But I also learned that questions like these are spiritual tar-babies, threatening to mire us in never-ending spirals of doubt and questioning that lead only to deeper chasms of meaninglessness. At some point, we have to say “enough”! And then everyone faces a choice: to retreat into a dogmatic position (fundamentalism, whether of the theist or atheist variety), or embrace the not-knowing, leading to an openness and willingness to marvel at the mystery. Here our choices are secular agnosticism (which, while a position I disagree with, I find much more respectable than dogmatic atheism) or what I call “holy agnosis” — a willingness to remain open to the mystery of faith, the experience of God, and the intuition that love is more than a biochemical process, but indeed is the heart not only of the universe but of the Ultimate Mystery from whom the universe comes. This willingness to enter what in the fourteenth century was christened “the cloud of unknowing” is the beginning, it seems to be, of the contemplative life. And it is also the beginning of a life lived in simplicity and prayer.
So simplicity then, is a willingness to live in mystery, chopping wood and carrying water because such things are the necessary tasks at any one moment. It’s living in the present, what de Caussade calls the “abandonment to divine providence.” It’s not sweating the small stuff, while recognizing that even the small stuff represents opportunities to live in love. Prayer is likewise very simple. It’s not merely about saying prayers, although saying prayers can be an important element of prayer. Rather, simple prayer is about orienting and calibrating our lives toward seeking, and responding to, and listening for, the love that cascades over us from the heart of the Divine Mystery. So it’s an ongoing process. As Saint Paul said, “pray without ceasing.”
I hope each of us can find time to breathe deeply today, and remember that we are held by a love that is deeper than what we can seek, or ask for, or imagine, or experience. Many blessings to you.
Forthcoming Books from Liturgical Press
Recently I received an email announcing new titles from Liturgical Press, one of the leading publishers on Benedictine, monastic, and general Christian spirituality. I’m taking the liberty of posting the contents of that email here on my blog, because pretty much every title listed looks wonderful to me — and, I suppose, will interest anyone visiting this blog as well. Michael Casey on the prologue to the Rule of St. Benedict, anyone? Joan Chittister exploring the radical nature of the Benedictine way? Plus new offerings from Bonnie Thurston, John Michael Talbot, and Macrina Wiederkehr? Can anyone say “more books to read than I have time to read them?”
N.B. These are forthcoming titles, but click on the book cover and/or title to pre-order from Amazon.
 AbideKeeping Vigil with the Word of God Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB September 2011 Price: $16.95 |
 Wrestling with GodKilian McDonnell, OSB August 2011 Price: $10.95 |
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 The Radical Christian LifeA Year with Saint Benedict Joan Chittister, OSB September 2011 Price: $15.95 |
 The Road to Eternal LifeReflections on the Prologue of Benedict’s Rule Michael Casey, OCSO September 2011 Price: $19.95 |
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 Belonging to BordersA Sojourn in the Celtic Tradition Bonnie Thurston July 2011 Price: $14.95 |
 Blessings of St. BenedictJohn Michael Talbot September 2011 Price: $15.95 |
The New Abbey Store
The Monastery of the Holy Spirit has opened a new Monastic Heritage Center, including a museum of monastic culture — housed in an old barn where the monks lived when they first came to Georgia in 1944, a greenhouse and garden center, a coffee shop, and a new Abbey Store. The entire center is beautiful, and I believe the museum will do wonders to draw more people to contemplative spirituality (as well as help stimulate vocations to monastic life). Here’s a short video I made on Friday, minutes before the store opened for a donor’s reception. It opened to the public yesterday. So if you want to visit, its hours are Monday through Saturday 10 – 5 and Sunday 12:30 – 4:30. Hopefully I’ll see you there!
The Beatles and the Book of Kells
Check out this video. It’s plenty of fun in a postmodern sort of way. Apparently some teachers in Hawaii have been creating song paradies (à la Weird Al) that teach history. You can read about their efforts in this Washington Post Article: Learning the French Revolution with Lady Gaga: Teachers sing history lessons
Of course, the video that caught my eye teaches about the creation of the Book of Kells, set to the Beatles’ Nowhere Man. Enjoy…
Looking for #33 (and beyond)…
I’ve recently received donations for the thirty-first and thirty-second copies of The Big Book of Christian Mysticism to be sent free of charge to monastery and convent libraries. These books went to Santa Rita Abbey in Sonoita, AZ, and Assumption Abbey in Ava, MO.
I’ve received a number of wonderful thank you notes from the monks and nuns who have received copies of the book for their libraries. Even though this book, written by a layperson, probably doesn’t tell monastics anything they don’t already know, the recipients have expressed gratitude for the gift.
If there is a community of monks or nuns who are important to you, would you consider donating a copy of The Big Book of Christian Mysticism to their library? You can have me send a copy for $16 (this is a special price, only for books donated to monastery libraries, please!) This price includes shipping to any monastery or convent in the United States (if you want to donate a book to a site outside the US, contact me for the cost). I can indicate to the receiving community who donated the book, or I can send it on behalf of you anonymously, whichever you prefer.
For more information (including a list of the monasteries and convents that have already received donated books), please visit this page: Would You Please Donate a Book to a Monastery Library?
Of Gods and Men: Of Martyrs for Life
"Of Gods and Men" — the monks of Tibhirine walk in the snow after being kidnapped by insurgents.
Of Gods and Men, the award-winning French film about Cistercian monks who lived at the Monastery of Tibhirine in Algeria and who were killed in 1996 during the Algerian civil war, will begin showing in Atlanta next Friday, April 1. I had the privilege to attend an advance screening sponsored by Sony Pictures today. The film has already been screening in New York, Los Angeles, and other major cities, so you can fairly easily find reviews of it online. And for the most part, it’s getting plenty of praise. Metacritic rates the film at 86% and Rotten Tomatoes scores it at 92%. Not bad for a film dealing with questions of faith! Meanwhile, over at the Huffington Post, Jesuit author James Martin calls Of Gods and Men “the best movie on faith I’ve ever seen.” That may seem hyperbolic, but I have to admit, I’m not having any luck thinking of a better one. (more…)
Two Movie Trailers to Check Out…
Here are trailers for two movies concerning monasticism in our time:
The first one, Of Gods and Men is a French film that will be released in American theaters this February. The second one, Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer is available for rent or purchase from iTunes.
Snow at the Monastery
Here are some pictures of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit under several inches of snow — most unusual for us southerners. These photos are by Haven Sweet. (more…)
Vision: From the Life of Hildegard von Bingen
On Monday Fran and I went to see Vision, a recent German-language film directed by Margarethe Von Trotta and starring Barbara Sukowa, on the life of the twefth-century visionary abbess, Hildegard of Bingen. Many people in our time know of Hildegard exclusively through her music, thanks to beautiful contemporary recordings like Gothic Voices and Emma Kirkby’s luminous A Feather on the Breath of God. But Hildegard was more than just a composer — she was truly a renaissance woman, centuries before the Renaissance! In addition to being an abbess and a musician, she was a visionary, an herbalist, a healer, a playwright, and a mystic. She corresponded with some of the leading figures in the church in her time, from the pope to Bernard of Clairvaux. She did all this in an age when women had virtually no social standing, making her an icon for feminists. The movie is a beautiful and contemplative retelling of her life, from her entry in the cloister at age 8 through to her midlife (it does not show her death, in the year 1179 at about 81 years of age).
If you like this blog, I think I can safely say you’ll love this movie. So go see it if you can, or at the very least, plan on renting or buying the DVD when it is released. Thankfully, Von Trotta doesn’t seem to have any axes to grind, which makes for a rich movie that I think could be enjoyed by both the convinced faithful and the thoughtful skeptic.
Below is the movie’s trailer, which will give you a sense of the lovely cinematography. I think the trailer plays up the idea of Hildegard as a proto-feminist and church rebel; thankfully the movie itself is much more nuanced in how it portrays Hildegard’s occasional conflicts with her superiors.
Quote for the Day
The problem of mysticism is to endow the mind and will of man with a supernatural experience of God as He is in Himself and, ultimately, to transform a human soul into God by a union of love. This is something that no human agency can perform or merit or even conceive by itself. This work can be done only by the direct intervention of God. Nevertheless, we can dispose ourselves for mystical union, with the help of ordinary grace and the practice of the virtues. We have just seen that, for St. Bernard, the two principal steps in this active preparation were humility and charity, or meekness and compassion. They both are “experiences” of the truth: the truth about ourselves and the truth about others. But since contemplation is an “experience” of God by connaturality, by union of love, St. Bernard sees that a connatural appreciation of the sufferings and sentiments of other men is an excellent preparation for the mystical knowledge of God in the obscure “sympathy” of infused love. After all, contemplation is an intimate knowledge of God that flows from a loving union with His will. And God himself has told us that the ordinary way to that union of wills with Him is union of wills with other men for His sake… We can see that, for St. Bernard and his contemporaries, the true fulfilment of the Cistercian life was something more than the literal observance of the Rule of St. Benedict, more, even, than the practice of perfect fraternal charity in a common life like that of the first Christians. Both of these were only means to a more perfect end: mystical contemplation and union of the soul with God. This must be well understood by anyone who hopes to grasp the full meaning of the Cistercian vocation, whether in the twelfth century or in the twentieth. The Cistercian Order is essentially contemplative, and it is contemplative in the purest and strictest sense of the word.
— Thomas Merton, The Waters of Siloe
Thank you for donating thirty books! More to come?
Thirty monasteries and convents have now received, or will soon receive, a free copy of The Big Book of Christian Mysticism, thanks to the generous support of the readers of this blog! I truly appreciate everyone who has sent in a gift to assist in purchasing copies of the book (at cost), and mailing them to religious communities throughout the United States (and even as far away as the Czech Republic).
Would you please consider giving a gift of $16 to pay for a book, at wholesale cost, and the packing and shipping costs to have it mailed to an Abbey, Convent, or other religious community here in the United States? (if you’d like to donate to a community outside the US, that’s great, but postage costs would be higher — contact me and we’ll figure it out).
For more details, please visit the Donate a Book to a Monastery page. And thank you!
Quote for the Day
Thomas Merton. Image by jimforest via Flickr
Men have not become Trappists merely out of a hope for peace in the next world: something has told them, with unshakable conviction, that the next world begins in this world and that heaven can be theirs now, very truly, even though imperfectly, if they give their lives to the one activity which is the beatitude of heaven.
That activity is love: the clean, unselfish love that does not live on what it gets but on what it gives; a love that increases by pouring itself out for others, that grows by self-sacrifice and becomes mighty by throwing itself away.
But there is something very special about the love which is the beatitude of heaven: it makes us resemble God, because God Himself is love. Deus caritas est. The more we love Him as He loves us, the more we resemble Him; and the more we resemble Him, the more we come to know Him.
— Thomas Merton, The Waters of Siloe
A Novice and His Master…
Belltower at Gethsemani Abbey. Image by + Alan via Flickr
Readers of my blog may find this interesting: the story of Randy De Trinis, who explored monastic life at Gethsemani Abbey in the 1950s under the spiritual guidance of Thomas Merton. Although he did not stay at the monastery, his memoir reveals what an impact Merton had on his young life.
In his own words:
This is an article by Randy De Trinis originally published in The Merton Seasonal, a quarterly of The International Thomas Merton Society. It is a memoir of my life especially focused on my years as a monk at the Trappist Monastery of Our Lady of Gethsemani in Kentucky where I was fortunate to have Merton as a spiritual director. I would like to hear from you: reactions good or bad or further discussion.
Read the article (in two parts) at Thomas Merton and the Quest: A Spiritual Odyssey.
Chants from the Benedictine Monks of Rostrevor
Holy Cross Benedictine Monastery, Rostrevor, Co. Down, Northern Ireland
When I was in Northern Ireland, I stayed at a retreat center in Rostrevor, in County Down. Just four miles down the road is Holy Cross Monastery, which according to its website is the first new Benedictine monastery in Ireland since the twelfth century! It was established in 1998, and currently is home to six monks. I attended lauds there one morning, and mass on Sunday; nearly all the locals who spoke of the monastery mentioned that the monks sang beautifully, and indeed they were right.
Happily, the monks have posted three MP3s on their website, so you can hear their lovely singing for yourself. Just follow these links to enjoy.
Credo • Jubilate • Suscepimus
The monks indicate on their website that these tracks are samples for downloading, so feel free to save these to your computer or iPod.
Means of Liberation and Internal Conversion
Yesterday at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit’s lay associates gathering day, I attended a class in which we considered a document called Lay Cistercian Identity, drawn up at an international gathering of Cistercian lay associates in Spain two years ago. We particularly examined a list of “Cistercian values and practices” commended to laypersons as “a means of liberation and internal conversion.” These values and practices include:
- Prayer and praise
- Confidence and abandonment to God
- Humility
- Obedience
- Poverty
- Chastity
- Austerity
- Simplicity of Life
- A Balanced Life
- Silence and Solitude
- Work
- Hospitality and Service
- Stability
- Simplicity
- Joy
Although there seems to be some overlap, it may be wise to consider nuances here: ‘simplicity of life’ may refer to simplicity in external matters (few possessions), whereas basic ‘simplicity’ may signify a more interior clarity and lack of complexity.
Even if you are not a lay monastic associate or interested in becoming one, I think this list is worthy of consideration. Some values, like poverty and chastity, may seem counter-intuitive to the spirit of our age. That alone appeals to me, aging subversive that I am. And while I don’t believe we are all called to the same degree of austerity as a saint like Mother Teresa, perhaps a bit more austerity would do most of us some good. Indeed, in today’s economy, many of us have had simplicity of life, austerity and even poverty thrust upon us. When this happens, we may as well try to find some spiritual value in it!
What I love about this list is the idea that it links “internal conversion” with “liberation.” We are called to be free: “know the truth, and the truth will make you free” (John 8:32). Culturally speaking, we associate freedom with the ability to make our own economic or political choices. Freedom means nobody gets to tell me what to do. Here is rather a different notion of freedom, a liberation not merely from outside economic or political forces, but from our own inner attachments, addictions, compulsions, and sin. And while we may react harshly agains the idea that “obedience” is linked to freedom, perhaps if we recall that true obedience means listening to God and God’s will in our lives, perhaps this can help us sort out the distinctions between freedom and how we relate to the structures of power in our lives.
May we all be led by the gentle hand of the Spirit into ever-increasing liberation.
Running with Expanding Heart
Running with Expanding Heart: Meeting God in Everyday Life
By Mary Reuter, OSB
Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2010
Review by Carl McColman
Just in time for Lent: here is a wonderful new addition to the literature of Benedictine wisdom.
Running with Expanding Heart (the title comes from a phrase in the prologue to the Rule of Saint Benedict) offers a vision of how Benedictine spirituality can provide inspiration and guidance for twenty-first century Christians—including the laity. Sister Mary Reuter, a member of Saint Benedict’s Monastery in St. Joseph, Minnesota and a theology professor at the College of Saint Benedict and Saint John’s University, understands just how down-to-earth and practical Benedictine wisdom is, and uses storytelling, personal reflection, and thought-provoking, open-ended questions to illustrate just how relevant Benedict’s Rule continues to be. Beginning with an homage to her father whom she describes as an “extraordinary ordinary man,” the author goes on to show, in a variety of ways, how Benedictine wisdom can help Christians to find the extraordinary in all of life’s ordinary moments.
The chapters of the book cover the key elements of Benedictine wisdom, including hospitality, stability, obedience, the beauty of the ordinary, the spirituality of place, and the recognition that everything is holy. Although the book does not promote any sort of method or technique of prayer, the overall message will support all who seek to nurture a contemplative dimension within even the most down-to-earth corners of their lives.
This book can serve as an introduction to Benedictine spirituality for beginners, but also as a bouquet of new insights for those who have walked with Benedict for some time. It’s a slender little book (100 pages plus notes), making it ideal to read as part of an overall discipline of daily devotion. St. Benedict expected his monks to read a book for Lent; if you want to make Benedictine wisdom more integrally part of your life, this would be an ideal selection for your Lenten reading.
iMonk
Michael Casey, a wonderful Trappist author from Australia, has begun a podcast on the Prologue of the Rule of St. Benedict. If you’re interested in checking out what contemporary monastics have to say about this ancient document, visit this page:
iMonk: Reflections on the Prologue of Saint Benedict’s Rule for Monasteries
The Two Faces of Restlessness
Yesterday at the Lay Cistercian Gathering Day we had a class on the monastic vow of stability (Cistercian monks have three vows: Stability, Obedience, and Conversion of Life). The brother who taught the class spoke at one point about restlessness as a tendency within us to undermine stability. I shared with him and the class that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with this idea, because, it seemed to me, that restlessness comes in more than one flavor. Certainly, there is the kind of restlessness that does not help us. It’s born out of low self-esteem or un-faced anger or grief, and it does seem to impel us to make choices that we often later regret. This is the restlessness that causes the practicing addict to reach for his or her fix, or that can drive a married couple apart after only a mild season of conflict or challenge. I agree with the monk that this kind of restlessness is the enemy of stability, which is the vow designed to help the monks to face (and hopefully heal) their own inner resistance to love.
But I believe there is another kind of restlessness, that does not necessarily lead to challenges to our commitments or our own highest good. This is the restlessness of an artist or other creative person. I read somewhere once where somebody (can’t remember who) said, “An artist creates a new work because he was dissatisfied with his last work.” True words indeed. Art is all about facing our imperfections, and then struggling against them, by creating again. In this sense it is like religion with the ongoing struggle against sin. Nobody beats sin, at least not on this side of eternity. Nobody once and for all defeats the capacity to choose selfishly even when it hurts others or violates the integrity of love. We fall down, and we get back up again. Likewise, an artist creates, and discerns all that is wrong with the creation. I can’t hear it, but I know that guitarists of a certain caliber can point out the mistakes in a recording by someone like Jimmy Page. Man, if Jimmy Page makes mistakes, doesn’t that mean everyone else playing the guitar is doomed? Of course. We all make mistakes, whether in a religious sense (the word sin basically means “mistake”) or in a creative sense. It is out of that mistake-making that our restlessness happens. Toxic restlessness then wants to destroy all that is good and true and beautiful in our life: it wants to enlarge the beachhold of sin. But creative restlessness pulls in the opposite direction. It impels us to get up and try again. If the opposite of toxic restlessness is stability, the opposite of creative restlessness is complacency. It’s a good thing to pray for more stability in our lives, but I think we also need to pray for less complacency. So we might be asking God to take away one type of restlessness. But the other type will always be with us, and will always impel us to create and create again.
Quote for the Day
There are times when good words are to be left unsaid out of esteem for silence.
— St. Benedict, The Rule of St. Benedict
Monks on Public Radio
I copied the following graphic, paragraph and link from the City Cafe page of the Public Broadcasting Atlanta website. It features a four-minute audio clip that has recently been broadcast on WABE, Atlanta’s public broadcasting radio station. Click on the link beneath the image to hear the audio clip; it features chanting by the monks and an interview with one of the brothers from the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, Georgia.
Click here to listen »
Back in 1944 twenty-one Trappist monks left an Abbey in Kentucky to set up a monastery in what was then a very rural Conyers, Georgia. Trappist monks value silence and will generally only speak when necessary. And for decades they’ve worked to uphold their faith and traditions.
Saint Rafael Arnáiz
This past Sunday, Pope Benedict XVI canonized six new saints. One of them, Saint Damien of Molokai, has received the lion’s share of the attention, because Father Damien (who served a leper’s colony in Hawaii in the 19th century until he eventually succumbed to the disease himself) has been a celebrity for many years. But for members of the Cistercian family, just as exciting has been the canonization of a rather humble and largely unknown Spanish Cistercian oblate, Rafael Arnáiz Barón. Earlier this year my Lay Cistercian community read and discussed a short biography of Blessed Rafael, as he was known then; Sunday’s ceremony “upgraded” him from “blessed” to “saint,” acknowledging him as a figure worthy of admiration, imitation and veneration.
My knowledge of Saint Rafael is admittedly pretty minimal. I know that he died young, after struggling for years with diabetes, and that he spent most of his short adult life bouncing back and forth between living at the Trappist Monastery where he was an oblate, and returning to his family’s home for periods of convalescence. His illness finally claimed him in his 27th year.
After we studied Saint Rafael, I managed to find a secondhand copy of a book of his writings published in 1964. called To Know How to Wait. It’s a small little book, mostly just filled with vignettes and brief little meditations, many rather ordinary, but a few quite luminous in their insight — for example:
God asks of me silence among my fellow men; I gladly offer it, though after all I don’t regard it as a sacrifice as the world does, since to keep the tongue quiet is to give the heart rest.
Amen.
But what I love the most about St. Rafael’s little book is, simply enough, its title: To know how to wait. It seems to me that this is a lost art. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I am pretty much a babe in the woods when it comes to patient waiting. I wait pretty much only when circumstances force me to, and rarely do I embrace the opportunity to wait: mostly I just chafe against the situations in life where waiting is called for (at a red light, in line at the post office, looking for a check in the mail). 
So I don’t really know how to wait at all. It seems to me that knowing how to wait has something to do with the “meditation minutes” I wrote about a few days ago: it has something to do with cultivating contemplative mindfulness as an ongoing part of our lives. When we can do that, when we can embrace life’s interruptions and waiting-times as opportunities for silent self-donation to God, then — and only then — do we truly “know how to wait.”
Thank you, St. Rafael, for this simple little insight.
N.B. If you want to learn more about the St. Rafael, his biography has been published: God Alone: A Spiritual Biography of Rafael Baron by Gonzalo Fernandez. I haven’t read it yet, but it has been a popular title among my fellow Lay Cistercians.
Finding the Monk Within
Finding the Monk Within: Great Monastic Values for Today
By Edward C. Sellner
Mahwah, NJ: HiddenSpring, 2008
Review by Carl McColman
Ed Sellner is known primarily for his writing on various aspects of the Celtic Christian spiritual tradition (such as Wisdom of the Celtic Saints). And indeed, one of the most beautifully written chapters in Finding the Monk Within concerns Brigid of Kildare, well known as an Irish saint but also remarkable for being the Abbess of a mixed gender monastery. But in this book, Sellner places the Celtic monastic tradition in its context of the development of western Christian monasticism as a whole, beginning with the renowned fourth century hermit, Antony of the Desert, and continuing to the life of Bernard of Clairvaux, known both as “the last of the fathers” and also as the greatest of the Cistercian saints, who lived in the 12th century. Other figures who show up in Sellner’s 800 year odyssey include Hilary of Poitiers, Martin of Tours, Benedict of Nursia, and John Cassian, as well as two important hagiographers, Athanasius and Gregory the Great.
This book is more than a mere survey of early monastic history, for as the author considers each key figure in the history, he also reflects on what lessons — the titular “monastic values” — can be gleaned from the life, writings and witness of the great monastic leaders. For example, he links Athanasius with storytelling, Antony with silence and solitude, Augustine with friendship, and Brigit with compassion. Part of what I find so lovely about this book is that Sellner refuses to reduce monastic spirituality to any sort of formula — you won’t find “seven secrets of the Christian monk” in these pages. Rather, the recurring theme herein is the importance of a life lived with integrity and soul; indeed, metaphors of fire and light continually dance throughout these pages (and illuminate — pardon the pun — the themes that Sellner builds each of his chapters around). By the end of the book, the monastic values of community, friendship, silence and solitude, compassion, and spiritual accompaniment, seem not to belong to any one of these historical figures in particular, but are indeed our common heritage, values that all of us — whether we live in a cloister or not — can and should incorporate into our spiritual lives today.
But the real treasure of this book, even more than its interesting historical narrative or thoughtful meditation on the great monastic values, is its inclusivity. Sellner, as a university theologian rather than himself a monk, brings the fresh perspective of an uncloistered observer to the tradition, and so celebrates not only monastic values for those who are called to be monks, but for all persons, lay as well as consecrated religious. Even more importantly, he highlights the role that many women, often underappreciated or historically marginal figures, played in the development of monastic spirituality. Thus, he considers how important Amma Synclectica and the other desert mothers were in the fourth century; points out that Jerome (famous for being a misogynist) actually had several close friendships with women; and considers the impact that Augustine’s relationship with his mother, Monica; or Benedict’s relationship with his sister, Scholastica, had on their respective lives and work. And of course, the Celts with their culture relatively uninfluenced by the Roman Empire really shine here, as Brigid emerges as one of the most colorful and powerful of monastic figures: a true leader, who stands as an ancient witness to the truth that God does not discriminate in the call to leadership.
Finding the Monk Within is a gentle book; it makes no argument for monastic vocation or even for radical changes in the ordinary lay Christian life. But in its very gentleness, it points to the quiet treasures of this wisdom lineage, and invites all people to be enriched thereby.
Cloister of the Heart
The other day I had a wonderful chat with a friend of mine who is a Lay Cistercian and who regularly makes retreats at the monastery where I work. As Lay Cistercians, we have a unique perspective on monastic spirituality and what it can mean for those of us who are not, and not called to be, monks. Lay Cistercians, incidentally, are like Benedictine Oblates, Secular Franciscans, or Third Order Carmelites: people who are not called to the consecrated religious life, but who are nonetheless drawn to it. As its name implies, Lay Cistercians are laypeople, most of us married with ordinary jobs and lives “in the world,” who nevertheless find that the culture and spirituality of monasticism has a real and significant role to play in our ongoing formation as Christians. We are not “monk wanna-bes” so much as we function as a kind of ambassador or translator, who interfaces with both the monastic community and the world at large, drinking deeply from the monastic well as a way to nourish the good life we have been called to live, outside the monastic cloister.
So Lay Cistercians, as much as we are able, try to integrate various elements of the monastic way of life into our own Christian journey. Practices such as lectio divina or the recitation of at least part of the Liturgy of the Hours anchor our daily spirituality. But perhaps even more important than the things we try to do are the charisms by which we hope the Holy Spirit will shape us into who we are. The Cistercian charisms include such qualities as the love of silence, solitude, stability and simplicity; living and praying in a contemplative manner; joyfully embracing the challenges of humility, obedience (to Christ), and continual repentance; and embracing the Holy Rule of St. Benedict as a guide for living — adapted, of course, for life outside the monastery; but part of the genius of the Rule is its very adaptability.
Of course, Cistercian spirituality and charisms are valuable only insofar as they are Christian values. Nevertheless, part of what makes the Cistercian way so beautiful is its emphasis on quiet, on simplicity, on rootedness and community: all qualities that are consistent with the Gospel, but deliciously subversive of the values that form our society’s mainstream. And this is where life as a Lay Cistercian sometimes gets tricky. (more…)
