A Monk’s Chronicle: 24 October MMXXII — Always Drink Upstream from the Herd

Always Drink Upstream from the Herd

Last Saturday I spoke to a group with which I’ve had a long association. The Friends of Saint Benedict meet monthly at Saint David’s Episcopal Church in Washington, DC, and through the years I’ve become good friends with many of the members. So it was a delight to see them once again and to share some thoughts on the Rule of Saint Benedict.

I opened with a recollection of my last visit with them, which took place just as covid burst into our consciousness. I had enjoyed that visit and went home with fond memories that lasted for all of five days. On the sixth day I glanced at The Washington Post, and the lead story left me paralyzed with fear. Doctors had discovered the first verified case of covid in the DC area, and I had shaken the afflicted man’s hand and chatted with him in a narrow hallway. Was I doomed? I prayed earnestly that I was not, and I wasn’t. But for a while I could only imagine the worst.

This Saturday I took as my theme Bach’s Wachet auf — Sleepers Wake! It’s grist for a good Advent meditation, but it’s also appropriate for most any day as far as I’m concerned. It’s a reminder that we can wander through life oblivious to the opportunities around us, and I for one have been guilty of that on more than one occasion. So how do we rouse ourselves from the slumber that so often holds us in its grip? That was the question I intended to address.

Since covid has affected us all, I then commented on my own decision not to let fear of it paralyze me. After one month into the pandemic I realized I could not live in gnawing fear, and I had to do something. So I sat myself down and formulated three practical resolutions that I still follow today. First, I decided to take a nap every day. Second, I resolved to come early to community prayer, because I owed it to my confreres after a lifetime of being late for almost everything. And third, I decided to write all of my letters by hand rather than by computer.

I’ve stuck with all three, and I’m amazed at the impact they’ve had on my life. Plus, they’ve piqued my curiosity about what others have done to cope. Responses have ranged from the simple to the daunting, but I finally gave the prize to a friend from Arizona who also had formulated a trio of observations to guide him. “You cannot unsay a cruel word.” “The best sermons are lived, not preached.” And last and best of all, “always drink upstream from the herd.” I’ve treasured that last one, not just for its practical value, but also for its allegorical possibilities.

So what’s the point of an exercise like this? For one thing it can be a challenge to translate lofty spiritual aspirations into lived reality. For example, praying for world peace always seemed fruitless until I finally realized that I had to start with peace in my own life first. Seeing Christ in others, which is Saint Benedict’s command to his monks, only happens if I actually act as if the next person I meet has been created in the image of God.

The list is capable of endless expansion, but the point is simple. The promises we make at baptism and renew at Easter ought never remain abstractions. They are in fact daily challenges to our imaginations, and it’s up to us to translate them into practice. Transforming spiritual ideals into easily-recalled bits of wisdom may seem childish, but in fact our success as Christians depends on it.

Meanwhile I continue to gather the ideas that others have to offer. Some have been silly and others quite profound, but in each case I’ve had to remind myself that these are deeply personal resolutions that have worked for others. Might some work for me? The answer seems obvious, and it explains why I have adapted a few for myself. To cite but one example, I no longer drink downstream from the herd. You can never be too careful when it comes to swallowing something second-hand, be it water—or gossip. I should have thought of that years ago, but it’s better late than never.

NOTES

+On 17 October I hosted a small group of new staff and faculty at Saint John’s University and Preparatory School. Sponsored by the Benedictine Institute at the University, I spoke on The Rule of Saint Benedict.

+On 20 October Saint John’s alumnus General Paul Nakasone spoke to a packed house in the Stephen B. Humphrey Auditorium at Saint John’s. Paul is the director of the National Security Agency and oversees cybersecurity for the US Army.

+On October 21st I flew to Washington DC, on what turned out to be a very long ordeal. Just as we were set to board our flight from Minneapolis, the gate agent announced that maintenance issues had rendered our plane unusable. Fortunately there was an incoming flight from New Orleans that we would take. Just as we were about to board that plane, the agent announced that that plane too had maintenance issues. Thankfully there was an inbound flight from Philadelphia which we would board — as soon as it arrived. The third time was a charm, and we arrived in Washington at midnight. But the day was not yet over. On the way to the taxi a wheel fell off of my suitcase, but by then I was too tired to care.

+On October 22nd I spoke at Saint David’s Episcopal Church in Washington to The Friends of Saint Benedict.

+On October 23rd I visited with a recent alumnus of Saint John’s University. Following graduation Nick had been a Benedictine Volunteer at Saint Benedict’s Prep in Newark, NJ, and he now teaches at the Don Bosco/Cristo Rey High School in Washington as part of the ACE program at Notre Dame University. He graciously toured me through the school.

+The first four examples of Renaissance art in today’s post are all housed at the National Gallery in Washington. At top is The Annunciation & Expulsion from Paradise, by Giovanni di Paolo (Siena, ca. 1435). Below that is a Madonna and Child by a follower of Fra Filippo Lippi (Florence, ca. 1470), and next is The Annunciation by Fra Carnevale (Umbria-Florence, ca. 1450). The fourth photo shows a Madonna and Child, in the style of Agostino di Duccio (Florence, ca. 1460). At bottom is my friend Nick standing in front of the school in Washington where he teaches: Don Bosco/Cristo Rey.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 17 October MMXXII — Welcoming Guests into our Lives

Welcoming Guests into our Lives

“After Jesus had spoken, a Pharisee invited him to dine at his home.” Luke 11: 37.

I have to wonder how this dinner at the home of the Pharisee turned out. It certainly began pleasantly enough, and perhaps the Pharisee felt even a little pleased to host a notable such as Jesus at his table. But then the tone changed when Jesus failed to observe the age-old rituals that his host expected him to follow. What was wrong with this guest? I’m guessing that the Pharisee turned this over in his mind for more than a few days.

Every day God sends all sorts of people into our lives, and like the Pharisee we all tend to get out the tape to see if these people measure up to our expectations. To no one’s surprise — least ways to ourselves — we sometimes set over-the-top standards that make it easy to dismiss at least a few people out of hand.

Even so, all people are gifts from God; and Saint Benedict is only one of many writers and saints who reinforce this idea. The challenge comes, however, when uninvited people come strolling by. Can we seat them at our table? Can we welcome them despite the fact that they are so different from us? To the extent that our hospitality demands change on their part but none on ours, we have failed a basic test of hospitality. We have failed to welcome gifts whom God sends into our lives.

NOTES

+On October 11th I presided at the abbey Mass, and today’s post is a variation on the homily that I delivered that day. The gospel text for the day was Luke 11: 37-41.

+On October 14th we opened our blinds and curtains to discover that nature had blessed us with the first snow of the season. We had not yet disposed of the autumn colors, and the white snow contrasted beautifully with the yellow and red leaves that are still with us. By noon the snow was gone, but it will be back soon enough.

+Also on the 14th, Saint John’s University dedicated a new student housing complex on the other side of Lake Watab, which wraps around the west side of campus. Abbot John blessed both the housing and the Tom and Elizabeth Nicol Bridge which crosses the lake. In keeping with the mixed weather of the day, a sudden burst of sleet and cold rain saw the celebration move indoors.

+On Sunday the 16th I said Mass for the Benedictine sisters of Saint Paul’s Monastery in St. Paul, MN. Our monks have served the sisters there since the foundation of their community in the 1940s. It was my first time to be there in many years.

+The photos in today’s post demonstrate how we are on the cusp of autumn/winter. Despite a few days in the 50s later this week, winter will return and prevail. The photo at top was the morning view from my room in the monastery.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 23 May MMXXII — “When the Abbot Asks Impossible Things.”

When the Abbot Asks Impossible Things

Many first-time readers of Saint Benedict are taken aback when they stumble onto this chapter near the end of his Rule. Can the abbot really ask impossible things of his monks? If so, why would he do that? If not, are monks simply being stubborn when they dig in their heels and deem a command from the abbot as asking the impossible?

Through my years in the monastery the abbot has never asked me to do something that I considered to be impossible. That perfect record ended a few days ago, however. That was when he asked me to stop by his office and see him, at my earliest convenience. As a firm believer in the Minnesota theology of weather, alarm bells went off in my mind. If bad weather is punishment from God, and good weather is a sign that bad weather is on its way, then the abbot’s invitaton smelled every bit like bad weather.

The next day I steeled myself for bad news as I sat down in his office. But the news was worse than I had thought. The abbot quietly announced that he wanted to appoint me as prior, and would I accept? ”I don’t know” was all I could think of to say. ”Can I get back to you on this?”

Even in Benedict’s Rule the job description of the prior is rather nebulous, and a lot depends on the talents that individual priors bring to the table. So at my next meeting with the abbot I was prepared to declare my unsuitability for the job. I told him that if he wanted me to be prior so that I could do A, B and C, then he should know that these were my ineptitudes. He should look for another candidate. If he wanted me to do D, E and F, however, I might be able to do those things. Still, he would be taking an awful chance on me.

I had stepped into a trap, which I realized when he opened his mouth to respond. ”That’s exactly what I want you to do,” he said rather forcefully. At that point I could see the writing on the wall, but I still asked for time to think about it.

Ever since I’ve been a monk I’ve associated two prime responsibilities with the office of the prior. First, the prior is in charge when the abbot is not home; and second, the prior does all the stuff that the abbot doesn’t have time to do. That of course is a caricature of the job, but it was that blank slate that alarmed me most.

Along with those concerns comes the sobering thought that nobody in their right mind should want to be prior. For one thing, it throws a wrench into a person’s life. Inevitably the prior takes on responsibilities that the abbot forgot to mention in the initial interview. Worse still, there is a lot of learning on the job, and to my knowledge there is no handbook on the prior’s responsibilities.

Then there are the ceaseless interruptions. Even as a young monk I noticed that, and I asked Prior Berthold how he managed to get anything done. With a cheery smile he explained how he stayed sane despite the constant barrage of phone calls and visits from monks wanting this or that. “If you want to do this job well, then you have to make interruptions your priorities. It’s that simple.”

Since the morning when the abbot first broached the topic, I’ve finally come to realize the one genuine opportunity in this job. In all my years in the monastery I’ve never had a job that required me to be of regular service to my confreres. This is now the part that most excites me, and this is what makes the job worth the risk. So ready or not, here I come!

NOTES

+ On May 17th I attended the weekly meeting of the Senior Council.

+On May 19th I participated in the meeting of the Board of Trustees of Sacred Heart Schools in Atherton, CA. It was the last of the school year.

+On May 20th I celebrated Mass and preached at the funeral of Frá Carl Noelke, a Knight of Justice in the Order of Malta. Frá Carl had passed away during the pandemic, and his funeral had twice been delayed. It took place in Saint Dominic’s Church in San Francisco, and the reception took place at the Bohemian Club, where Frá Carl had been a member for many years.

+By way of postscript I should note that during the past school year I had missed the meeting of Senior Council only once. It was at that very meeting that the abbot discussed the selection of a new prior. Was it pure chance that no one who was present was named to the job? Whatever the case, I assume the responsibility on July 1st. I will succeed Fr. Brad, who in the course of his six years in the position has led us through the renovation and reoccupation of the monastery. We all wish him well in his future work.

+The photos in today’s post portray the miraculous rescue of Brother Placid by his confrere Brother Maurus. In a vision Saint Benedict had seen Placid’s plight and had commanded Maurus to rush to the rescue. This proved to proved to be a possible rather than impossible task. The topmost work is by Fra Filippo Lippi, ca. 1445-1450, Florence; and the second work is by an unknown French artist, ca. 1480. Both are housed at the National Gallery in Washington, DC.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 28 February MMXXII — Lent: A Call to Life

Lent: A Call to Life

In 2012 I had the opportunity to visit the cities of Lviv and Kyiv in Ukraine with a group of friends. It was an amazing experience, not least because of the charming pre-Soviet architecture. It was also memorable because of the maintenance that had been deferred for decades. There was so much to repair and so little money to pay for it.

Not surprisingly, the country roads had suffered from benign as well as extreme neglect, as three couples found out to their dismay. They had hired a van to take them to their ancestral village about an hour outside of Lviv, and the trip was the stuff of nightmares. It was a white-knuckle ride, and after forty-five minutes of death defiance one woman could take it no longer. ”We’ve got to do something! Let’s pray the rosary!” Desperate times call for desperate measures, as this Lutheran lady knew only too well.

On a personal level it was the central cemetery in Lviv that touched me most. Over the decades it had become a tourist attraction, both for the beauty of the monuments as well as for the serenity of the setting. It roused my curiosity about the people who were buried there, but it was also a not so subtle hint that we should use our time on earth well. Our bodies are only given on loan.

Cities of the dead can impart all sorts of messages, and among the most eloquent can be a military cemetery. There lie people who sacrificed themselves for the sake of others. Such sites remind us of the nobility of the human spirit, as well as of the futility of war and the capacity for evil that causes injustice and hate. It’s a reminder that sin is real; it is not a victimless crime; nor can we claim any moral high ground over our ancestors.

Lent begins in a few hours, and for me Ash Wednesday is a good moment to recall Saint Benedict’s maxim that we should keep death daily before our eyes. He did not mean to scare the daylights out of us — far from it. Instead, he was fully aware that the years given to us are an opportunity to accomplish something beautiful, and they are a foretaste of what is to come. In that respect we ought not wait to see Christ in the next world, because we can see Christ in the faces of our neighbors in the here and now. While we’re at it, we should do ourselves a favor and remember that Christ also works within us. Why not welcome him into our lives now?

NOTES

+This last week was notable for its lack of zoom meetings, nor did the senior council of the monastery meet. I did not complain, nor did I feel lonely.

+On February 23rd I flew to Fort Myers, FL, where I am spending a few days in southwest Florida visiting with alumni of Saint John’s University. I will also have the chance to visit with two recent graduates of Saint John’s who now live and work in Immokalee. I have taken note of the absence of cold and snow, but to date I have suffered no serious effects from withdrawal.

+The photos in today’s post show scenes from the central cemetery in Lviv. It is unlike any other cemetery I had ever visited, and I can understand why it’s become a favorite place for local citizens.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 31 January MMXXII — Conversion: A Life-time of Moments

Conversion: A Life-time of Moments

When you live in a monastery you hear a lot of sermons, because they come with the territory. I’d like to say that all are equally memorable, or at least that they range in quality from the good to the sublime. That, however, would earn me four pinocchios. So I may as well admit it right off the bat: most of the sermons I hear go in one ear and out the other. That doesn’t mean I’m not listening, however.

Last week I was blessed with one nugget that stuck with me all week. It was the feast of the conversion of Saint Paul, and Fr. Nick posed a question that every believer should ponder. Is conversion a moment in time, or is it a life-time of moments?

For some people it could be both, but for those of us who follow the Rule of Saint Benedict the emphasis is on the latter. Benedict describes the monastic experience as a conversion of life — conversio morum. That is a slow methodical process, and it yields an awareness that a monk can and does encounter the Lord at various moments in the course of the day. There may well be moments when the encounter with Christ is intense and transformative, but more often than not the Lord slips into our day in quiet and understated ways.

The scriptures certainly have plenty of stories of dramatic conversions, but I’ve always considered the story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus better-suited to me. After the crucifixion these two had left Jerusalem, confused and not a little bit disappointed. Along the way Jesus joined them. At first he questioned them, but after a while he began to explain the scriptures to them. Finally they recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, and at that moment they realized that those had been graced moments as they walked with Jesus. That’s when they appreciated what a cathartic day it had been for them.

I’m not very reliable about examining my day before I climb into bed. Still, on the evenings when I’m coherent enough to make sense of it, I can easily recall some graced moments. For starters, life itself is a gift, and for that I should be thankful. Equally important, I’ve been able to glimpse the face of Christ in my confreres and colleagues. Those encounters were moments when Christ made cameo appearances in my routine — almost unnoticed by me.

That’s when I conclude once again that I should never fear that conversion is going to be some inconvenience or radical disruption in my life. It seldom is. Rather, conversion is something I should welcome each day. And so I count it a great day when I realize that the Lord has walked alongside me — and for more than just a moment.

NOTES

+Last week I was the reader at the community Eucharist. If I may be so bold as to boast, (but not on the scale of Saint Paul), I was happy that in the course of six days I did not have to line up a single substitute reader. That was because my schedule was uncluttered, and I never even went out to see if my car was still there.

+On Sunday January 30th we welcomed to lunch in the monastery two Benedictine sisters, recently arrived from a convent in Tanzania. They have established a praying community and have begun work at the nursing home in nearby Albany, MN. Our own monks have served the parish there for over 150 years, and we also have served as chaplains at the same nursing home. It is nice to have them as our neighbors.

+While the minutes of daylight are now beginning to increase, this is the time of year when we most appreciate the light that comes in through the massive stained glass window of the abbey church. Today’s photos give some hint of that.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 10 January MMXXII — Those Who Come Early to the Work of God

Those Who Come Early to the Work of God

Monks should ”prefer nothing to the Work of God.” So wrote Saint Benedict in his Rule, and ever since that has been the central plank in the Benedictine way of life.

Lest there be confusion about what this might mean, the Work of God does not refer to physical labor. Rather, he writes of the seven periods of prayer that form the backbone of the daily regimen of a monk. Sandwiched between those are meals, work, reading, study, and adequate time for sleep.

Even in Benedict’s monastery this could be a grueling program, and not a few monks could and did fall behind each day. Whether they had good or no excuses, monks were tardy for the Work of God. Still, it was important that each monk make a serious effort to show up on time, and not just for the sake of efficiency. In the daily schedule the monk discovers the stirrings of God in the community, and a monk who is consistently late or absent misses out on that.

Clearly, Benedict cares a lot about showing up late for the Work of God, and those who are consistently tardy reap a very personal harvest. Being late for the Work of God shows disrespect for God. They have chosen to put other activities before Christ. They have deliberately disrupted the balance of their own day and inhibited their opportunities to see God at work in the community.

There is a communal consequence to this as well, because tardy monks are a distraction to others. They draw attention to themselves, and in so doing they risk a sin of pride and an inflated ego. Supporting this notion is Benedict’s gentle command that monks leave the oratory when prayer is ended (RB 52). Individuals are not holy just because they outlast everyone else in the chapel.

I credit Benedict for his ability to ferret out the things that can go wrong, but in the case of tardiness, he fails to promote the logical antidote. Arriving early for the Work of God is a practice whose value I discovered during the recent pandemic. Chronically late myself, I tried coming early to the Work of God, just to see what it might be like. Sure enough, after a few days of arriving at choir minutes before it was scheduled to begin, I began to realize some therapeutic value. The rush to church became a stroll. I had time to clear my mind of the clutter that I had brought with me. I became calm and relaxed. I could concentrate more easily on the words I prayed. I even began to wonder why I had not done this years earlier.

It’s too bad that Saint Benedict never wrote a chapter on monks who come early for the Work of God. Clearly he never saw it as a problem; but just as certainly he missed the benefits. Arriving early for anything is a practice that even non-monks should consider.

NOTES

+Today’s post is an adaptation of an article that I wrote for the winter 2021-22 issue of The Abbey Banner, published for friends of Saint John’s Abbey.

+On January 3-5 we monks of Saint John’s Abbey held our annual winter workshop. Like the Work of God, the workshop had nothing to do with physical labor, though it did require not only presence of body but presence of mind as well.

+In terms of real manual labor, the highlight of my week came on Saturday, January 8th. After not going anywhere for two weeks, it came time to dig my car out of the snow. I had dreaded the day, since the car had been parked, untouched, through three snow storms. I waited for a day when the temperatures got into the 20s, and I bundled myself for the ordeal. To my wonderful surprise, the wind had blown off most of the snow the night before.

+With the feast of the Baptism of the Lord on January 9th, the days of Christmas officially came to and end. To bid farewell to the Christmas season, I have included in today’s post photos of a late 15th-century woodcarving entitled Holy Kinship. It is by an unknown artist from the south of Germany, and it resides in the National Gallery in Washington, DC.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 6 December MMXXI — Can Enough be Enough?

Can Enough be Enough?

I’ve been slowly paging through Therese of Lisieux’s Story of a Soul lately, and I was intrigued by a question that young Therese once put to her sister. Therese had puzzed over why God did not give everyone equal portions of glory in heaven. Weren’t some of them bound to be upset? Might some be envious?

Her sister then put a big glass alongside Therese’s thimble, filled both with water, and then asked which was fuller.

It’s a charmingly naive story, but it provided me an insight into the miracle of the loaves and the fishes. At the end of the meal there were seven baskets of food left over. On reading that passage this time around, something struck me as odd. Either the greedy people didn’t show up that afternoon, or else everyone was content with what they had and felt no need for excess. In either case, the miracle was much bigger than I’d thought.

In his Rule Saint Benedict writes that each monk should have what he needs, and none should envy the monk who needs more. In a comsumer culture such as ours — one in which wealth determines status — it takes immense self-control to be satisfied with what we need and no more. If God grants us that gift, then it’s one more element of prophetic witness that we can offer the world.

NOTES

+On December 1st I presided at the abbey Mass, and today’s post is a variation of my homily that day. It is based on the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, which is recounted in Matthew 15: 29-37.

+During the week of November 29th I took part in a three-day workshop on interviewing candidates who apply for entrance into the monastery. Each session lasted four hours, so it was a big deal. But it was fascinating, and I and my fellow members of the Vocations Committee learned quite a lot.

+On December 1st I got the covid booster shot. I was away when the entire committee had gotten this a few days earlier. The only side effect was feeling very tired for a day. But a long nap cured that.

+On December 4th I led a retreat day for members of the Federal Association of the Order of Malta, gathered in Ponte Vedra, FL. The noteworthy item about this retreat was that it was the third time in eighteen months that we had scheduled it. This time it went off without a hitch. My return to Minnesota was a bit of reality therapy, as I was greeted by high winds and much colder temperatures. Winter is here to stay.

+In today’s post I have included three images that deal with alms and greed. The upper panel shows Saint Lawrence, who was given three days to present the treasury of the Christian community to the Roman authorities. On the day it was due, he gathered the poor of Rome, contending that they were the treasures of the Church. It is a late 15th-century work, housed in the Cloisters Museum in New York. In the middle is the alms porch at Canterbury Cathedral. Each day one of the monks gave alms to poor pilgrims, who came to this Norman-era porch. At bottom is the image of two tax collectors, symbolizing the power of greed. It comes from the Workshop of Reymerswale (1533-1545) and is housed at the National Gallery in London.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 27 September 2021 – Let the Light Shine In

Let the Light Shine In

Part of the human condition includes the need to dismiss opinions that differ from our own. I say that without fear of contradiction, because I do it all the time.

That explains why I found two readings in Sunday’s liturgy so intriguing. In the Book of Numbers chapter 11, aides to Moses warn him that two people are prophesying, and they’re doing so without authorization from Moses. Horror of horrors!

The Gospel of Mark chapter 9 recalls a similar instance in the ministry of Jesus. One disciple had seen someone casting out demons in the name of Jesus. ”We tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.”

Both Moses and Jesus brushed aside these alarmists voices, because they knew narrow-mindedness when they saw it. Neither of them would allow their disciples to turn a message of hope into an issue of authority and control. Power is not what they had come to seize or enforce.

In a culture in which we delight in taking issue with our neighbors over the least little thing, it’s important to keep our minds open. It’s important to let in some light, even if it’s only a sliver of a ray. But of course that’s easier said than done, and that’s what makes our vigilance so vital. And why is it important to be alert to this? Do I really want to find myself on the losing side of an idea better than my own? Do I really want to find myself blocking the work of the Spirit?

Saint Benedict offers a bit of advice I need to heed more and more these days. In chapter three of his Rule he urges the abbot to take counsel from the brothers — all of them. In particular, however, he points out that wisdom can often be found in the young. In Benedict’s day such advice was seriously out of step with prevailing notions. In his day the social default buttons assumed the presence of wisdom in the seniors and its absence in the young. Benedict knew better, however. Experience had taught him that the Spirit stirs wherever the Spirit wills, and it’s pointless to resist.

I turn to Benedict’s advice whenever I can, mainly because it’s actually in my best interests to do so. Like many, I’m tempted to dismiss out of hand ideas different from my own. Through sad experience, however, I’ve learned I really can’t afford to do so. After all, do I really want to impoverish my life by ignoring the wisdom that my neighbor has to offer?

Might there be wisdom in my neighbor? Might I even get a glimpse of the Spirit of God working in my neighbor? It’s entirely possible. Naturally, I shudder at the thought.

NOTES

+On September 20th I attended the annual meeting of the Friends of the Malta Study Center at HMML. On the agenda was the announcement of two new projects that the Center will undertake to digitize various archives of the Order of Malta housed in Italy.

+On September 21st I attended the weekly meeting of the Senior Council of the monastery.

+Thursdays I usually reserve for meetings, and on Thursday the 23rd I attended the vocations committee of the monastery. That group considers applications for admission into candidacy and later for novitiate. That afternoon I took part in a meeting of the formation committee of the Western Association of the Order of Malta.

+On September 25th I presided at a burial service in the abbey cemetery. That afternoon I attended a football game, which Saint John’s hosted and won against Bethel University. In the evening I attended the annual dinner of the Saint John’s University Alumni Association.

+On Sunday September 26th I began my week as the reader at morning prayer.

+Normally I would not present photos that feature a lawn, but this is a special lawn. For a year and a half the lawn behind the monastery had been a construction zone. It was a mess. The plan was to seed the lawn in early summer, but because of the drought it was considered a waste of time and resources. Finally, at the end of August, we seeded the lawn. It is gloriously soft and green.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 30 August MMXXI — Do People See Christ in Us?

Do People See Christ in Us?

In Matthew 24: 42-51 we have a gospel passage that allows us to go in two different directions. On the one hand we can focus on hypocrisy, and it helps to recall yesterday’s message that Pope Francis delivered in his Wednesday audience. Hypocrisy in the Church is “particularly detestable”, he said, and he infers that it might earn its practitioners a spot in one of the lowest circles of hell.

On the other hand, this gospel urges us to be alert to the coming of Christ. Paying attention, however, is a daily if not hourly challenge for the best of us. We can blame it on cell phones and the like, but I wonder if the grinding routine of life is the one thing that dulls our senses more than anything. In the monotony of routine we can let ourselves go and we scarcely notice it. In the process we slowly morph into the sort of people we swore we’d never be. Eventually, after a long stretch of this, there is a growing disconnect between who we think we are and what our actions actually show us to be. In that disconnect we’ve entered into hypocrisy via the back door.

Sell-awareness is something Saint Benedict expects of us monks. So when he asks us to keep death daily before our eyes he’s concerned about two things. Neither should we squander our lives nor should we ever miss a chance to make the most of the time we’ve been given. In both cases we can let ourselves drift absent-mindedly into hypocrisy. But life as a Christian requires a string of daily decisions, and that in turn requires a lot of attention on our part. It is the Lord who calls us to see him in our brothers and sisters, in hopes that in turn they might see Christ in us. Every minute is a good time to be alert to the opportunity.

NOTES

+On August 26th I presided and preached at the abbey Mass, and today’s post is what I hope is an improved version of what I said that day.

+This week the first-year students arrived at Saint John’s University, and it was fun to meet parents and students as the latter moved in. As Fr. Nick pointed out in his sermon on the feast of Saint Monica, there were plenty of motherly tears that day, and they were likely a mix of tears of joy at seeing their sons grow up and tears of apprehension as they begin to let go. On Friday August 27th we hosted the first-year students at evening prayer, as is our custom at the beginning of every school year. The abbot welcomed them and issued an open invitation to join us at prayer during their years at Saint John’s. Afterwards the students broke into about twenty groups and met for half an hour with individual monks to learn about our life at Saint John’s Abbey. I was among the monks who met with a group of students. It’s a custom that we’ve followed for many years now.

+There was a certain irony about the weather in Minnesota on Saturday the 28th. During the last three weeks I have ridden out a tropical storm in southwest Florida and a hurricane on Long Island, with minimal discomfort. On Saturday a major storm came roaring through central Minnesota, and the alarms sent us to shelter. In the course of it the power went off, “for a while.” Ultimately there was no damage. But it proved once again that you don’t need to leave home for excitement.

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A Monk’s Chronicle: 16 August MMXXI — For What Should I Pray?

For What Should I Pray?

I was a little surprised the other day when I realized I have been writing this blog for ten years. More precisely, today’s post is #524 in a Monday morning series stretching back to August of 2011. How did that happen? What’s kept me going?

When I wrote my first post I wondered how long I could sustain this. Would I make it through to Christmas and then give up? Could I possibly make it through to the next August? Frankly I had my doubts, and so did a few people who cautioned me about this sort of thing. Why would I want to take this on when I already had plenty of stuff to do? And did the world really need another blog?

I threw caution to the wind and did it anyway. Now, ten years later, I could not imagine a Sunday morning without putting the final touches on the prose and the photos. There were moments, of course, when it was a chore. All the same, however, I began to look forward to it and relished sitting quietly at my desk. It gave me the chance to focus and to share my thoughts with myself. It also let me share my thoughts with others who might find them useful. Those conversations have spurred me on.

I’m currently reading a book by Rabbi Harold Kushner entitled The Lord is my Shepherd. It’s been sitting on my bookshelf for a while and its time had come at last, I decided. It’s a reflection on Psalm 23, and one short passage struck me as appropriate for this occasion. “Prayers that begin ‘Thank You for…’ strike me as more authentically religious than prayers that begin ‘Please give me…’. In our society, we have tended to confuse God with Santa Claus and to believe that prayer means making an inventory of everything we would like to have but don’t have, and persuading God that we deserve it.”

With that in mind, for what should I pray as I being year eleven? First, I thank You Lord for getting me past the first Christmas. Second, I thank You Lord for not repeating myself too often in the course of 524 posts. Third, I thank You Lord for readers who have encouraged me along the way. Finally, I thank You Lord in advance for however long you choose to sustain me.

That, I think, is enough for one prayer. After all, Saint Benedict encourages monks to keep their prayers short and to the point. So I’ll stop now, before I begin to petition for some of the things I don’t currently have and very likely don’t really need.

NOTES

+This has been a rather unusual week. On August 10th I had surgery to remove a small patch of malignant cells from my scalp. The surgery was successful, for which I was grateful. But I left the doctor’s office with a large bandage on my head. For three days I wore a baseball hat, in church, in the refectory, and everywhere else I went. As I told confreres who bothered to ask, I preferred to look irreverent than odd. By Friday I graduated down to a large Bandaid, and I no longer needed the hat.

+On August 13th I flew to Fort Myers, FL, where I visited with alumni and friends of Saint John’s over the weekend. One highlight occurred on Friday evening, when I had dinner at the home of one of our current students. This fall Elias is a senior at Saint John’s University, and he lives with his family in Immokalee, FL. Joining us was another Saint John’s student, Gabriel, who will be a junior at Saint John’s. The photo below only hints at what a lovely evening we had. I was honored to be their guest.

+The photo at top is a copy of the statue of the Black Madonna at the Abbey of Montserrat, located outside of Barcelona. Their monks sent this to us in gratitude for the assistance we offered after the Spanish Civil War. Now that the renovation of our monastery is complete, it sits once again in a place of honor. The second photo shows a flower that I found quite lovely and distinctive, growing in the butterfly garden of a home I visited in Estero, FL. Alas, some of the neighbors preferred more conventional flowers and lawn, but the butterflies eventually won the day.

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