Monday, April 27, 2020

Ode to the Great White Egret

Ode to the Egret
I am the Great White Egret
I stand firmly in the mud
Unaware of sickness and death
The flooded fields make prime real estate
Void of destruction and loss of tribe
I enjoy the warmth of the sun
Absence of noise
Less Paparazzi
I love my silence and solitude
Food shortages absent
Crayfish and Frogs Abound
I see my family when I need them
Friends drop by sharing food and drink
Social distancing an abstract concept
I relax gazing at the distant sky
Humans never cross my mind

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Friday, April 3, 2020

Endings and Beginnings - Gethsemani to Resurrection




Today as I sit in front of my computer and here the birds sing, I contemplate and remember my Monday morning, the time of leaving the Abbey of Gethsemani.  I wanted to attend all of the services before we left and so I set my alarm on Sunday night.  I managed for one last time the trek up to the church for Vigils.  However, this morning was different. I had read that twice a week the monks observed Vigils in total darkness.  Today this Monday morning was one of those times.

The monks entered and the lights went completely off.  I could not look at my booklet but could only listen to the one speaking, the one whom the spotlight illuminated.  Having it in the dark changes the focus.  I experienced Vigils as a reminder of how I cannot experience the light without the dark.  The light and the dark both have limits too much of either creates distortions.  In connecting with the Cistercians of the past by remembering Vigils as taking place in the dark before artificial lighting, the monks reflect an intuitive knowledge of light and dark.  The places of the known no more lessen our fears than the unknown creates them.  The essence lies in attentiveness and obedience to vocation. 

While my Vigils experience deeply affected me, it did not take away my exhaustion from the  combination of the time change and my staying awake all day Sunday aided by the continual consumption of caffeine.   Thus returning to my room, I set up my alarm for Lauds but somehow turned it off falling back asleep until 7 a.m. almost missing breakfast.  As I rushed to breakfast and sat down at the table in silence with my husband, I felt like I was back at home already, the hustle and bustle of the outside world crept in.   However, in the taking of the time to write some more postcards so I could mail them at the Abbey because who would be foolish enough to miss out on the monks paying the postage and  walking around the grounds one more time, I felt at peace climbing into the car heading down the road to Abraham Lincoln's birthplace.

Foregoing checking the latest news regarding the Corona Virus on my phone, I picked up my copy of the Merton Annual. After the introduction are a series of letters exchanged by Brother Patrick Hart and Father Louis aka Thomas Merton.  Reading these letters sent me back to the standing in front of Patrick Hart's fresh grave in the cemetery.  The grass not having grown back yet, the brown dusty soil reminding me that the loss of this Brother, a long-time member of their community,  remained fresh in the hearts and minds of many. Another era had ended. 

And somehow for me, Lent/Easter seems to be a time of the soil showing.  Ash Wednesday 2014, the day we receive ashes, reminding us of  our beginnings coming from the dirt and our lives being continually nourished by the dirt, our family attended church together for the last time. That Friday our daughter walked out of our lives bringing to a close an era that would never return. Last year, 2019 right before Palm Sunday, my mother-in-law passed away changing the lives of the Trently family forever, an end of the era and the beginning of the new.
 Now at this present moment in 2020,  together around the world we are faced with the Corona virus and the ever-growing changes a pandemic brings. 

Thus as Holy Week and Easter approach slowly makes it way to Pentecost, I come full circle returning to Merton and the Merton Annual, in which  Joseph Q. Raab, ends his introduction with these words, "As you enjoy the articles here, may you gently be reminded, and consoled by the fact, that being in your 'right mind' has little to do with being 'perfectly adjusted'.  The mad world needs the weird ones to bring back home some real sanity." In echoing words of Thomas Merton in 2019  the Corona virus did not exist on Raab's radar let alone on Merton's when he penned, Raids of the Unspeakable.  I would  suggest that for us in  April, 2020 amidst this pandemic, that these words are a consolation and a reminder to be part of the Resurrection not the madness.   

For it is in these moments that Christ makes all things new.  The green grass returns leading us to a new place towards Resurrection.   Christ's illuminated presence meets us in our humanity unbinding us in a way that our life experiences, the dirt, become an outlet for compassion to the world.  The grief, the sadness and the pain lessen not by going away but by allowing Christ to transform us by moving through the challenges of life not clinging tightly to them. 


May Christ's perfect peace be with you.






Thursday, April 2, 2020

Abbey of Gethsemani - Day 4 - Changing Times

It is Sunday at the monastery but it is also the first weekend in March and time to turn our clocks ahead for daylight savings time.  So yes the monks do participate in daylight saving time. Saturday evening Father Carlos announced that they turn their clocks back after Vigils meaning that instead of having two hours  between Vigils and Lauds there is only one hour.

I awake and go to Vigils again taking in this darkness preparing us for a new day.  After I arrive back at my room, I decide since I have only have one hour until Lauds thus I will remain awake.  I take a shower and do some reading.   After Lauds we head downstairs to breakfast.  My husband and I still sit in front of the windows even though it is dark.  I suggest that after breakfast since we have a about two hours until mass.

We head outside bundled up and walk around to stay warm until the sun comes up and how beautiful it is.  On Sundays, it is Terce and then mass, starting at 10:20 a.m. with everything else being slightly later.  It is beautiful saying the Psalms and then being led into the church sitting behind the monks watching the processional and seeing some of them wearing the purple vestments.  Light streams through the window above us and Christ comes alive nourishing us.
We enjoy Sunday lunch while watching the birds and head outside. My husband and I go our separate ways since I had decided that I was going to attend None at 2:15 p.m.  I go outside and walk through the cemetery.  I walk and find a place to sit.  I I look at Merton's grave thinking about his writings, his epiphany and his commitment to his life as a monk.
Wonder is my word for 2020.  I take this time to wonder and observe.

I notice the time and quickly hurry inside feeling somewhat silly at rushing.  In fact I even get a smile from someone in the elevator.  I return to the church joining the monks in None noticing how it seems to fit, a shorter liturgy but no less a remember of God's presence.  It is still a meaningful praying of the psalms however I recognize that my heart absorbs more when I enter slowly and more settled.

I go to get a cup of coffee because by this time having not taken a nap which I realize in retrospect I probably should have observed meridian time like the monks to.  Instead, I resort to a snack and caffeine, watching the birds and meeting up with my husband for another joint walk.

As I wait for him in the lobby,  the monk manning the desk strikes up a conversation with me.  He tells me about how he came to Gethsemani from being a parish priest adding that he was drawn to the Abbey and contemplative life because of the community.   The view of the priesthood being lonely  had escaped my notice.   I did know however from my various experiences with silence that I valued the times when I united with others in silence.

I expressed to him how I felt distracted by wondering about the monks' life and he said that I needed to think about the Abbey as being their home.  He asked me, would I walk into someone's home and begin asking questions about everything. Of course not I said, it would be rude.  The concept of the Abbey being the monks' home escaped me somehow.

Another a wonderful opportunity happened while I stood there at the desk, a young man came up and the monk introduced him as Ty who had come to the Abbey as a inquirer.  I told Ty I would be praying for him as I felt so excited that there were young men desiring to gave to the Abbey.  Ty also mentioned that he had make a trip to Merton's hermitage of which I envied him.

I took another walk with my husband and headed across the road viewing the Abbey from a top of the hill.  We walked around a while heading back inside both needing a break before vespers and dinner.
Being extremely tired by this time, after dinner, I took one more walk outside, skipped Compline and practically fell into bed.  What a day, a filled with the richness of observation and conversation, of prayer and worship, of community and individuality and by the end feeling crazy because I had stayed awake way too long.