I've been putting off posting about my experience last weekend because I'm not really sure I have the right words to express it all, but I will try at least.
This time last week, I was already asleep. Or trying to sleep is more like it. I had gone to bed at 8, anticipating an an early rise, 3 AM, so that I could be dressed and singing with the monks at 3:15. I had arrived at the monastery earlier that afternoon after driving on perhaps the smoothest bit of interstate that I've ever encountered, and in Kentucky of all places. It only took about 3 hours to get there. It was a beautiful drive, into the middle of no where, and just when I thought I'd really left any trace of buildings behind me, I rounded the corner and saw the Abbey of Gethsemani rising beautifully above me, a stark white cathedral behind a stark white tree. The simplicity of the place was absolutely breathtaking.
After my arrival, I settled into my three windowed room and read a bit before Vespers at 5:30. Occasionally I'd see a monk traveling across the courtyard, dressed in white hooded robes that match the church. It was peaceful, perhaps that was due to the silence but I think mostly it was due to God's overwhelming presence. The 55 monks that live there have devoted their entire lives to prayer and to God. They have made it a point to place Christ at the center of everything they do, and their entire schedule is set up in such a way that they might remember God throughout their day.
Friday night I went to the last two services of the day: Vespers at 5:30 and Compline at 7:30. The monks sing seven times a day, and in a period of two weeks they will have sung all 150 Psalms. Their lives are centered around the Psalms, and although their singing is simple it is very rich. It's strange how such simplicity could bring about such depth, how such an empty weekend could be so full.
While I was there I followed the monks schedule for the most part which meant Vigils at 3:15 AM. After Vigils I'd go down to the kitchen, get a cup of coffee and mix it with hot chocolate mix, go back up to my room and sit looking out the window into the darkness and pray. Praying at such an early hour is very therapeutic, and sets your mind in the right place before Lauds at 5:45. The Eucharist immediately follows Lauds, and although I did not receive Communion because I'm not Catholic, the priest blessed me which felt just as satisfying to me. Breakfast is at 7 and was the same every day: oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar, another cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice. All of the guests would sit in silence and eat and watch the sun rise. You begin eating breakfast in the dark, but by the time you're done the sun is beginning to come up. On Saturday I skipped Terce at 7:30 in order to climb a hill and watch the sun rise while freezing under a statue of St. Joseph. It was lovely. I sat there as long as I could and read Making All Things New by Henri Nowen, trying to turn the pages with my gloves on. I borrowed the book from the Abbey guest library, so I wrote a lot of quotes down in my journal. Here's one I read while sitting up there with Joseph:
"To set our hearts on the Kingdom therefore means to make the life of the Spirit within and among us the center of all we think, say, or do." Woah!
The rest of the morning was filled with more reading, and a couple of small lectures given by Brother Christian. One was on monastic life and the other was on the person of Jesus. I went to both because... well, why not? Brother Christian had been there for 30 years and had a thick northern accent. I pinned it as being a Boston accent, but I'm probably wrong. I've never even been to Boston.
Saturday I was learning about discipline and felt a deep call to live a more disciplined life, to make more room in my life to listen to God each day. Another Nowen quote:
"A spiritual life without discipline is impossible. Discipline is the other side of discipleship... the core of all prayer is indeed listening, obediently, standing in the presence of God."
At 12:15, the bells rang for Sext to begin and we all sang before lunch at 12:30. After lunch I walked "to the statues." It took about half an hour to get through the muddy woods, to the statues that had been erected in remembrance of a man who was killed presumably because he was black, at least that's what I got from the plaque. The statues were of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemani while his disciples fell asleep. You come across the disciples first, sleeping and as you walk up the way you find Jesus, in agony, praying intensely. It's really neat, and ultimately secluded. I took pictures along the way of all the different stopping points before you get to the Garden of Gethsemani. The forest is littered with little statues of saints, little places to stop off and pray. There is also a "rosary shed" that some monk must pray in all the time. It's like a little office in the middle of the woods. It made me very happy.
I skipped the 2:15 service (None) to go do this. I didn't realize that it was actually a service since it was designated as "none" on the schedule. Ha! Oh well. 5:30 Vespers. 6 dinner. 7:30 Compline (my favorite).
Sunday was very similar, a slightly different schedule but generally the same. I read a lot and prayed a lot. I read some Thomas Merton and another Nowen book (The Genesee Diary, about a 7 month period he spent in a monastery). I also sat in the library and read a lot about forgiveness. That night after Compline I went back to the library to look for a book on living a sort of "monastic" (or really more contemplative) life as a lay person. However, I never found the book because Brother René approached me with his own book suggestion, a book called Jesus Today by a Catholic priest from South Africa. I don't know what to say about him except that he was wonderful. Here's what I wrote in my journal immediately after I spoke with him:
"Just spoke with Brother René. I do not know where to begin... he imparted so much wisdom and love to me. He said that he must share his love or it wilts. he called me holy... he could see that my spirit was holy, he said... because God had made it so. He entered the monastery 57 years ago and the Abbot told him that there were only 2 people in the monastery... you and Jesus. Everyone else is Christ to you. He first asked me if I had ever seen Jesus... then he told me that he had... and that he was looking at Jesus smiling at him at that moment... meaning me. He first approached me with a book suggestion called Jesus Today... he told me that young people were not looking for ritual and religion but that they want spirituality... they want Jesus and not many people talk about him. ... ... He gave me a little booklet about how God speaks to us... about how we just need to listen. He spoke to me about Mary and said beautifully how she is our mother and she loves us because Christ is in us. He hoped I would come back and speak to him about the rosary. Until then he asked me to pray for him... and that I do. He said he was happy and that I could tell. he made me happy. He made me cry."
And that was my experience at the Abbey, one of deep joy and also of truth that makes you cry. A beautiful weekend. I found myself thinking of the monks so much this week, missing them. Often I'd look at the clock and think, "The monks are singing now." or "The monks are going to bed." I cannot tell you how much this experience meant to me. I can't wait to go back.
And finally, here are two videos of the monks singing. One is the first half of the Doxology which they bowed and sang after every Psalm.
This time last week, I was already asleep. Or trying to sleep is more like it. I had gone to bed at 8, anticipating an an early rise, 3 AM, so that I could be dressed and singing with the monks at 3:15. I had arrived at the monastery earlier that afternoon after driving on perhaps the smoothest bit of interstate that I've ever encountered, and in Kentucky of all places. It only took about 3 hours to get there. It was a beautiful drive, into the middle of no where, and just when I thought I'd really left any trace of buildings behind me, I rounded the corner and saw the Abbey of Gethsemani rising beautifully above me, a stark white cathedral behind a stark white tree. The simplicity of the place was absolutely breathtaking.
After my arrival, I settled into my three windowed room and read a bit before Vespers at 5:30. Occasionally I'd see a monk traveling across the courtyard, dressed in white hooded robes that match the church. It was peaceful, perhaps that was due to the silence but I think mostly it was due to God's overwhelming presence. The 55 monks that live there have devoted their entire lives to prayer and to God. They have made it a point to place Christ at the center of everything they do, and their entire schedule is set up in such a way that they might remember God throughout their day.
Friday night I went to the last two services of the day: Vespers at 5:30 and Compline at 7:30. The monks sing seven times a day, and in a period of two weeks they will have sung all 150 Psalms. Their lives are centered around the Psalms, and although their singing is simple it is very rich. It's strange how such simplicity could bring about such depth, how such an empty weekend could be so full.
While I was there I followed the monks schedule for the most part which meant Vigils at 3:15 AM. After Vigils I'd go down to the kitchen, get a cup of coffee and mix it with hot chocolate mix, go back up to my room and sit looking out the window into the darkness and pray. Praying at such an early hour is very therapeutic, and sets your mind in the right place before Lauds at 5:45. The Eucharist immediately follows Lauds, and although I did not receive Communion because I'm not Catholic, the priest blessed me which felt just as satisfying to me. Breakfast is at 7 and was the same every day: oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar, another cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice. All of the guests would sit in silence and eat and watch the sun rise. You begin eating breakfast in the dark, but by the time you're done the sun is beginning to come up. On Saturday I skipped Terce at 7:30 in order to climb a hill and watch the sun rise while freezing under a statue of St. Joseph. It was lovely. I sat there as long as I could and read Making All Things New by Henri Nowen, trying to turn the pages with my gloves on. I borrowed the book from the Abbey guest library, so I wrote a lot of quotes down in my journal. Here's one I read while sitting up there with Joseph:
"To set our hearts on the Kingdom therefore means to make the life of the Spirit within and among us the center of all we think, say, or do." Woah!
The rest of the morning was filled with more reading, and a couple of small lectures given by Brother Christian. One was on monastic life and the other was on the person of Jesus. I went to both because... well, why not? Brother Christian had been there for 30 years and had a thick northern accent. I pinned it as being a Boston accent, but I'm probably wrong. I've never even been to Boston.
Saturday I was learning about discipline and felt a deep call to live a more disciplined life, to make more room in my life to listen to God each day. Another Nowen quote:
"A spiritual life without discipline is impossible. Discipline is the other side of discipleship... the core of all prayer is indeed listening, obediently, standing in the presence of God."
At 12:15, the bells rang for Sext to begin and we all sang before lunch at 12:30. After lunch I walked "to the statues." It took about half an hour to get through the muddy woods, to the statues that had been erected in remembrance of a man who was killed presumably because he was black, at least that's what I got from the plaque. The statues were of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemani while his disciples fell asleep. You come across the disciples first, sleeping and as you walk up the way you find Jesus, in agony, praying intensely. It's really neat, and ultimately secluded. I took pictures along the way of all the different stopping points before you get to the Garden of Gethsemani. The forest is littered with little statues of saints, little places to stop off and pray. There is also a "rosary shed" that some monk must pray in all the time. It's like a little office in the middle of the woods. It made me very happy.
I skipped the 2:15 service (None) to go do this. I didn't realize that it was actually a service since it was designated as "none" on the schedule. Ha! Oh well. 5:30 Vespers. 6 dinner. 7:30 Compline (my favorite).
Sunday was very similar, a slightly different schedule but generally the same. I read a lot and prayed a lot. I read some Thomas Merton and another Nowen book (The Genesee Diary, about a 7 month period he spent in a monastery). I also sat in the library and read a lot about forgiveness. That night after Compline I went back to the library to look for a book on living a sort of "monastic" (or really more contemplative) life as a lay person. However, I never found the book because Brother René approached me with his own book suggestion, a book called Jesus Today by a Catholic priest from South Africa. I don't know what to say about him except that he was wonderful. Here's what I wrote in my journal immediately after I spoke with him:
"Just spoke with Brother René. I do not know where to begin... he imparted so much wisdom and love to me. He said that he must share his love or it wilts. he called me holy... he could see that my spirit was holy, he said... because God had made it so. He entered the monastery 57 years ago and the Abbot told him that there were only 2 people in the monastery... you and Jesus. Everyone else is Christ to you. He first asked me if I had ever seen Jesus... then he told me that he had... and that he was looking at Jesus smiling at him at that moment... meaning me. He first approached me with a book suggestion called Jesus Today... he told me that young people were not looking for ritual and religion but that they want spirituality... they want Jesus and not many people talk about him. ... ... He gave me a little booklet about how God speaks to us... about how we just need to listen. He spoke to me about Mary and said beautifully how she is our mother and she loves us because Christ is in us. He hoped I would come back and speak to him about the rosary. Until then he asked me to pray for him... and that I do. He said he was happy and that I could tell. he made me happy. He made me cry."
And that was my experience at the Abbey, one of deep joy and also of truth that makes you cry. A beautiful weekend. I found myself thinking of the monks so much this week, missing them. Often I'd look at the clock and think, "The monks are singing now." or "The monks are going to bed." I cannot tell you how much this experience meant to me. I can't wait to go back.
And finally, here are two videos of the monks singing. One is the first half of the Doxology which they bowed and sang after every Psalm.
