Deciding, that I would try to pray the Liturgy of the Hours with the monks as often as possible I arose about 3:00 a.m. and then made my way quietly upstairs to the church and waited for Vigils to start. It began at about 3:15 a.m. After absorbing the richness of the liturgy, I returned to my room, set my alarm and went back to sleep until 5:30 a.m. Lauds and Mass started at 5:45 a.m. I knew I would be more attentive and be better able to enjoy the day by getting that extra two hours of sleep. Again I awoke and headed up the stairs to the church and enter into prayer and Eucharist before breakfast. The simple rhythm of the day had begun.
After breakfast, I followed a group back up the steps for Terce, took a shower and went for a walk outside in the cemetery. My walk brought about another mystery, a wondering about who all of these people were buried right outside the retreat center. Many had large headstones and others by looking at the dates were older than the Abbey. I then headed over to the visitors center/bookshop as I knew it would be closed on Sunday. I enjoyed learning more about the history of the Cistercians and the founding of Gethsemani. Then entered into the bookshop to buy fudge, honey and a book to take home with me. As I wondered around the bookstore trying to choose a book with most people keeping silence like myself, I immersed myself in a shared solidarity with the Saints, the monks, and others who had left their mark on Christendom. Many of the books in the store were written either by people knew of or featured someone who I had studied during my time at Oblate School of Theology. Outside time and space, my soul accumulated more riches.
Soon lunchtime came. Allan and I had been told and it was also written to posted signs to be on time for meals because the monks wash the dishes. Every time I read this I thought about how generous the monks were being in their hospitality allowing us to be in their home while still keeping to their schedule and remaining cloistered. I took part in Sext following lunch and then I met Allan outside. I had decided so I could take longer walks and spend a bit of time with him that I would skip one of the prayer times each day thus today skipping None. This time as we walked behind the retreat center we encountered the graves of some of the monks marked with simple crosses. As I walked, I stumbled onto Merton's tombstone who is right next to Dom James Fox, the Abbot with whom Merton often clashed. As walked around, I saw the grave of Father Matthew Kelty and then the grave of Brother Patrick Hart, still with fresh dirt, having only recently passed away. All of the graves bore witness to the commitment of the monks to live in community at Abbey of Gethsemani, I thought about how the monks did not choose their graves sites which moved me to reflect on how the rest of us may get to buried who we are buried next to and where that none of us any knowledge of who will be in heaven next to us or even with us. We could be beside the person who has been a thorn in our sides throughout our lives.
We spent some more time walking the trails and then time for vespers. After Vespers then dinner, after dinner conference by Father Carlos, then Compline followed by bedtime. I stopped in the library and wandered through the books making my way to periodicals and journals. The stack of Cistercian Studies Quarterly Journals caught my eye. I had never seen print copies before but had referenced CSQ articles for my thesis. I flipped through some of the most recent copies and noticed a book review by someone that I have gotten to know through Facebook from the Emerging Scholars for Study of Christian Spirituality group. I decided to take that copy to my room for my bedtime reading. I had bought the book, Zen and the Birds of Appetite by Thomas Merton in the bookstore but had it in my bag to save for home.
Another day of soaking up the silence, sensing the links between the ancient and the present, experiencing the richness of connection through articles, books, nature and tombstones. Allan and I enjoyed sitting at lunch and dinner in front of the windows watching the birds at the feeders in the garden, a shared joy even in the silence.
After breakfast, I followed a group back up the steps for Terce, took a shower and went for a walk outside in the cemetery. My walk brought about another mystery, a wondering about who all of these people were buried right outside the retreat center. Many had large headstones and others by looking at the dates were older than the Abbey. I then headed over to the visitors center/bookshop as I knew it would be closed on Sunday. I enjoyed learning more about the history of the Cistercians and the founding of Gethsemani. Then entered into the bookshop to buy fudge, honey and a book to take home with me. As I wondered around the bookstore trying to choose a book with most people keeping silence like myself, I immersed myself in a shared solidarity with the Saints, the monks, and others who had left their mark on Christendom. Many of the books in the store were written either by people knew of or featured someone who I had studied during my time at Oblate School of Theology. Outside time and space, my soul accumulated more riches.
Soon lunchtime came. Allan and I had been told and it was also written to posted signs to be on time for meals because the monks wash the dishes. Every time I read this I thought about how generous the monks were being in their hospitality allowing us to be in their home while still keeping to their schedule and remaining cloistered. I took part in Sext following lunch and then I met Allan outside. I had decided so I could take longer walks and spend a bit of time with him that I would skip one of the prayer times each day thus today skipping None. This time as we walked behind the retreat center we encountered the graves of some of the monks marked with simple crosses. As I walked, I stumbled onto Merton's tombstone who is right next to Dom James Fox, the Abbot with whom Merton often clashed. As walked around, I saw the grave of Father Matthew Kelty and then the grave of Brother Patrick Hart, still with fresh dirt, having only recently passed away. All of the graves bore witness to the commitment of the monks to live in community at Abbey of Gethsemani, I thought about how the monks did not choose their graves sites which moved me to reflect on how the rest of us may get to buried who we are buried next to and where that none of us any knowledge of who will be in heaven next to us or even with us. We could be beside the person who has been a thorn in our sides throughout our lives.
Another day of soaking up the silence, sensing the links between the ancient and the present, experiencing the richness of connection through articles, books, nature and tombstones. Allan and I enjoyed sitting at lunch and dinner in front of the windows watching the birds at the feeders in the garden, a shared joy even in the silence.
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