Moos: Keep Listening

"Moo" - I heard the cows from across the road say this morning as I sat outside and drank my coffee. A quick glance at the reasons why cows moo suggests that the primary reason was unhappiness.  However, cows are also complex social animals so we as humans cannot necessarily decipher all of their mooing.  This is how I have felt recently that I cannot decipher or understand all that is being said.  As an educated white woman living in the quiet of the country with a husband who is still working and a family that is healthy,  I am insulated from many of the world's ills. 

 I am grief-stricken, heart-broken and beyond angry all at the same time.  Yet I have no words because I cannot make sense of it all nor do I understand because I haven't been in the shoes of those who have lost jobs. those whose loved ones have died, those who have been discriminated against, those who have been wrongly incarcerated or those whose voices have been silenced.

No answers came from the trees or from the lunchtime Quaker meeting I attended. Now I sit in my office writing.  As I hear the fan blowing behind me, I feel the leaves scattering within my soul asking where is the wind taking us? 

I hold onto the Divine Knowing, to the Christ who exists outside of space of time and space and the gift of revelation through creation.  And the answer remains, "Listen,", plant your feet in the grass watching the rising and the falling of the sun. 

I claim the word, "Moo" as my message from of the scriptures of the Earth to pay attention and listen.

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

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.

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.  

Time Alive: Revolutionary Lent and Lazarus Sunday

In the 100 days of Lent/Easter/Pentecost, the focus is on theosis, that we have the love of God within us and are moving toward holiness.   How do we use this time?  What is our intention?  Christine  Valters Painter in her work speaks of sacred time, of connecting across time and space, that we always need to be mindful of kairos and not caught so caught up in chronos.

In recent weeks, with the onset of the Coronavirus Pandemic, many people are thinking about what the meaning of their lives is and how best to use their time while they are on lockdown at home.  Recently, on the show, Marketpla6ce on NPR, Kai Ryssdal asked the questions, "what is time?" and "does time mean anything'?  as he discussed the new normal, the ever changing Nasdaq and Dow Jones Industrial Average.  Perhaps this is a time to consider how much we live by the clock rather than by the sacred rhythm of Christ.  How much more time do we gain by rushing against time and by worrying about has come, or what might come?

Many times, it often seems that each and every one of us has our own idea of time.  The same folks are super on time for their work meetings, think that when you say to meet you at a restaurant at 6:30 p.m. that you mean 6:45 p.m. or 7 or even 7:15 p.m.  Some of us take personal offensive when some one is even one of two minutes late.  Some doctors' offices make you re-schedule your appointment if you are more than 15 minutes late.
 In this Sunday's Gospel, Martha thought that Jesus was late.  She believed that Lazarus would not have died if Jesus had been there.  Martha could not figure out why Jesus did not come four days earlier when she asked him to.  Yet when Jesus got there, he asked to be taken to the tomb and then at the tomb, Jesus rolled the stone away and called to Lazarus, "come out." When Lazarus came out, Jesus told the others present to unbind him and unroll the bandages.  Lazarus still had time to live.  I often wonder what Lazarus did with that time.

How do we understand time?  In these days of being in our houses and not going out, it is important for us to pay attention to kairos time and seek a new rhythm of life in God's timing not ours.  I have entitled this picture, "Time Alive" after a book written by Alexandra Stoddard, columnist, interior designer and inspirational speaker.   She writes, "when we spend time with someone, we should give the encounter 100 percent of our focused energy. When we're prepared--in mind, body and spirit--we'll be co-creators in a pleasant, meaningful exchange, experiencing the heart of time."

Are we giving God 100% of our attention?  Are we listening and co-creating or are we staying in the tomb keeping ourselves and others bound in old ways that no longer work?

I know for me I have found I feel most alive when I am writing but also when I am spending time with others especially one on one and yet somehow often myself having a half day go by without me doing anything renewing or life-giving.  My word for this year is wonder, so as I wonder, I need to wonder what  is being made anew and what I am re-claiming.

Adventures in Silence Day II at Gethsemani

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. 

Adventures in Silence: Abbey of Gethsemani

Nearly twenty-five years ago I visited the Abbey, attended Vespers and bought a copy of  Seven Storey Mountain, Merton's autobiography. Since then my life has ebbed and flowed with Merton reading other books and then not touching them for awhile.  Most recently  in the summer of 2015, I had the privilege of taking a two week summer intensive on Thomas Merton taught by Merton Scholar, Michael Higgins, Ph.D.  And now finally on March 6 of this year I achieved one of my bucket list goals  visiting the retreat house at Gethsemani.

Located outside of New Haven, Kentucky, the Abbey provides a quiet respite away from the world complete with natural trails and plenty of places just to sit listening to the birds.   My husband, Allan and  I arrived around 5 p.m. and with dinner being at 6 p.m.  We headed straight up to our rooms and while there are double rooms, Allan and I each had our own room.  I had a room with its own private bath and Allan stayed in a room in older section in which there was a common bathroom.  Signs provided us with information on maintaining silence, where to go and where we could talk.  The first night Allan and I ate dinner in the talking dining room so we could converse and figure things out.  It took some sign language to figure out where to go/how to get our dinner and what to do when we were finished.

When I first arrived I shut off my phone, detoxing from the noise of the world and yet the noise in my mind blared loudly.  Every move I made,  I felt like a spectacle.  My mind kept going to my lack of my poise and wondering what other people thought when I bumped a table or dropped my fork.  Somehow, the Spirit broke through, beginning with Father Carlos' talk on Friday night.  During the talk he used the phrase, "Jesus meets us in our humanity."  As a part of this concept, he mentioned being gentle on ourselves and on others when we forget the silence and find ourselves talking.  It convicted me of my exterior rather than an interior focus.  I need did not need to perfect but rather let me my humanity be where I experienced Jesus.

Jesus meets us in our humanity.  This phrase stayed with me after the conference as I followed others to the church for Compline.  This is the final set of prayers before the great silence sets in.  At 8 p.m.  I followed others and realized that the monks are going to bed and thought about other unpacking I needed to do.
Friday had come to an end, my silence became my disciplineexcept for when something needed speech and would last until Monday morning.  I observed  myself quieting down and soaking up the silence.

Praying Compline with the monks, listening to them chanting the Psalms and joining when appropriate soothed my soul.   I found myself walking my own new path and an ancient path simultaneously.  I became one with all of the monks who had followed the Rule of St. Benedict since its inception in the sixth century.  What a gift the monks were giving us by letting us participate with them by creating space for us in their church where for many decades outsiders did not enter with any regularity.