First and foremost of is the peacefulness of the place. The abbey grounds include over 200 acres of forest, set within a quiet farming area west of Three Rivers. Traffic is minimal, and most days, the noisiest thing to occur at the abbey is the ringing of the bell for the offices (i.e., gatherings for prayer) and mass. Meals are silent except for one monk reading to the company from a book. At the offices, quiet, measured chanting seems to enrich the silence rather than break it. Between offices (or instead of them if you like), you may wander the trails through the woods where wind and birdsong provide the only audible distractions. It would take some effort to keep up with the news of the world there. There are no televisions in the guest quarters and only one internet hookup (bring your own laptop). The well stocked library receives no newspapers. You could go to your car and listen to its radio, I suppose. The idea actually occurred to me Monday morning, but somehow it seemed out of place.
The facilities themselves are very comfortable and pleasant. Kristine and I stayed in a spacious suite that cost only what we cared to donate (though we were generous). It overlooked a large mown field where deer and turkeys put in regular appearances. The guesthouse is clean and modern, very conducive to relaxation and reflection. It occurred to me that it would make a great writing retreat. The library mentioned above would keep the most demanding readers busy for a long time. There are a wide variety of religious titles, naturally, but also impressive collections in literature (and literary theory, of all things), history, psychology, science, philosophy, gender studies, and probably more that I didn't get time to look though. In the area near the buildings, brick walkways wind through gardens and monuments.
And of course, there are the men in the community. If you go, try to be there for dinner on Sunday night if at all possible, since that is the only time that monks interact freely with the guests. They're all fascinating people who can talk about nearly anything and who clearly stay well connected to the outside world despite their isolation and attention to the immaterial realm. Last Sunday being Oscar night, the part of the table I where I sat got into a conversation about the nominated films and films generally. I think those guys see more movies than I do (obviously the monk's quarters have at least one TV). They're also rabid Simpsons fans. One talked about blogs he likes to visit (which, sadly, don't include this one). I should add too that they break out beer for Sunday's supper. In the finest Benedictine tradition, they plan to begin brewing their own in the near future.
Spiritually, a visit there is quite moving. This time around, I found it no so much soothing as unsettling. It made me look (perhaps because of the absence of external distractions) inward more intensely than usual, and to consider some things that have troubled me lately. While I don't know if those issues are settled, I think I do have a better understanding of why I struggle with them. That's a blessing, I guess, but one that reminds me that the word from which we derive blessing can also mean to hit. If, as one biblical writer says, "it is good to have been chastised," I ought to be feeling pretty good right now.
While I was there, I finished the fishing tale I've been working on for a while (or rather, started in January and then forgot until last week). I'm going to take a couple days to edit it, but when I return here, I'll begin posting it in installments.
Tag: Spirituality
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