Our Monastery

We recently received an account of the Abbot General's summer visit to our monastery written by his secretary, our Father Simeon. We include this excerpt: 

A cursory visit to the St Joseph’s Abbey website and its photos should confirm for you that it is one of the most beautiful monasteries in America.  What is astounding is the fact that it was built at record speed between 1950 and 1952, mostly by the physical labor of the monks themselves.  At that time these were very numerous and generally very young, as well as full of good zeal and enthusiasm.  The then abbot, Dom Edmund Futterer, himself an artist of impeccable taste, very much believed in the Beautiful as an efficacious path to God.  Therefore, in consultation with other monks in the community who had a knowledge of monastic art and history, such as Fr Laurence Bourget and Br Blaise Drayton, Dom Edmund decided upon a design for a monastery that would at the same time be inspired by the stark, transcendental beauty of 12^th-century Cistercian abbeys in France and yet also be a truly American recasting of that traditional style. 

The jewel-like beauty of Spencer Abbey speaks for itself.  Here the materials—for the walls, only hand-picked Spencer field stones—are most happily wedded to great simplicity of form, and the first impression of opulence is continually tempered by a certain contemplative restraint that imposes silence. 

The abbatial church in particular is a place of transport.  It is dark, though this darkness was not in the original design.  The walls of the church were only rising when the Abbot General of the time, the indomitable Dom Gabriel Sortais, on a brief visit to Spencer, saw the blueprints and decided on the spot that the existing design was “too grand for poor monks” and that, therefore, the whole level of the clerestory (the gallery of windows around the upper reaches of the church) should be eliminated!  And so it was. 

This omission not only deprived the church of perhaps eighty percent of its source of light, but the much lower ceiling that resulted also affected the resonance of the chant.  However, many welcome the “mystical gloom” reigning in the church when all lights are off, finding that it leads to a special kind of prayer.  In addition, the intense Chartres blue of the stained-glass windows at ground level, as well as the blue of the high windows of the triumphal arch over the sanctuary, can now cast a wonderfully soothing glow that would have been impossible with more illumination.

Only With His Grace & Mercy

As yesterday we celebrated the apostles Simon and Jude and all during October we have remembered so many of the Church's martyrs who suffered so much, we recall that as monks we too are called to make a radical gift of all that we are and all that we have for Christ and his Church. We are humbled; we pray to be faithful and steadfast. May He who has invited us continue to grant us his grace and mercy that we may persevere.

Photographs by Brother Brian.

Two Attitudes

In today’s Gospel we hear a classic Wisdom literature motif- two ways, two attitudes. The wise person must choose rightly between the two. It seems clear, perhaps too obvious, which way Jesus is inviting us to follow, for this morning’s parable is pointedly addressed “to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.” It’s sharp. And our first reaction may be to deny that we would ever think that way. And so right from the get-go, we run the risk of falling into the very judgmental, I-know-better attitude that the parable warns against. We’re caught short. We’ve been set up. The parable’s already working. We must pay close attention to Jesus and see where he takes us. The territory may not be as familiar as we supposed.

First there is a Pharisee, he has come to the temple to present his credentials to God; he does not pray to God, he stands tall and prays, literally- “toward himself.” And even after years of hearing this passage, it still can make us cringe. “I fast, I pray, I...” Maybe he simply should have dropped off his resume, left it at the altar and continued on to his day job. This very good man, who clearly has gone beyond the basic regulations of the Law in his religious regimen, has come to the Temple to remind God about all he has accomplished. Certainly, God is well aware of his goodness and faithfulness. But he wants to make sure.

Most embarrassing of all, he compares himself with a tax-collector, who is clearly no match for his holiness. The Pharisee is convinced he’s doing better than others, for he has fasted and tithed himself into a dither. But in the process, he has blocked off the possibility of receiving God’s mercy; he doesn’t need it, he’ll redeem himself. Perhaps, this is what makes Jesus so frustrated. Jesus does not demonize the Pharisee; he bewails his foolishness. The man is clearly under a lot of pressure to perform well, and there’s one thing he’s sure of- he doesn’t need anyone’s help, not even God’s.

The tax collector on the other hand is disarmingly honest, vulnerable. His prayer is more literally translated, “Be merciful to me the sinner.” He recognizes himself as the very essence of sinfulness. (William Barclay).  His humility disarms us; and it probably disarms God. This man comes to beg for mercy without a hint of illusion about who he is. Unlike the Pharisee, he knows he’s got nothing to recommend himself to God. Tax collectors were among the most despised of Jews in Jesus’ day, for they extorted money from their own people. When they collected taxes for Rome, they would usually collect more than a little extra for themselves; it was how the system worked. What is worse, they were in cahoots with the Romans, those Gentile intruders who were hated for their domination. Tax collectors were looked upon as the worst of sinners, akin to prostitutes. They were smarmy low-life, and they knew it. They made a decent living, had nice homes; they ate the best food, their wives probably dressed well, but the price they paid was high. They were shunned; they could only hang out with other sleazy tax collectors. (See www.bible-history.com.)

But this morning we witness this man’s conversion; he comes to beg forgiveness. And Jesus tells us this tax collector will go home justified, acquitted of his sins, because he has had a change of heart and has come to beg for mercy. It’s just as Sirach said in the First Reading: the prayer of the lowly one always “pierces the clouds.” And Jesus will assure us that even now there is rejoicing in heaven over the return of one such sinner. We too must rejoice for in Christ Jesus, God is continually reconciling the whole world to himself, bringing us all back to God, if we will allow him. He very much wants to mercy us; it’s why he’s come.

I need have no illusions about who I am. Why bother? Jesus desires open hearts that he can mercy and unburden. The foolish Pharisee is waiting outside; he thinks he’s not like those sinners in there. And like that stubborn older brother in another parable, he’s reminding God, “I slaved for you all these years. I’ve fasted; I’ve tithed. I’m not greedy, or adulterous.” But Jesus has come to remind us that with him, we are not slaves but beloved children of his Father. He begs us to come into the feast, “All I have is yours,” he says, “all this mercy, all that I am.” A very lavish banquet has been prepared for us; our ticket in is our sinfulness, the Bridegroom is at the door to bring us in. He doesn’t want our merit but our hunger. Why do we hesitate?

Photograph by Brother Brian.

A Fire

We remember neighbors burning leaves in their yards when such conflagrations were still common during autumn in suburbia. The pungent aroma was somehow lovely to a child. And when we hear Jesus tell us that he longs to set a fire upon the earth, we remember the heady fragrance of the smoldering leaves. How to let ourselves be consumed by the fire of Christ's love - his love for us, our love for him. In simplicity and ordinariness, we long to be as dry leaves constantly available to this fire.

Photograph by Brother Brian.

As We Cry Out

We may offer ourselves to God with all our potential, goods, talents, friends– and in return expect a certain recompense from him, for example, that he would give us “wisdom” or perseverance in faith or love. But this would be only an imaginary justice, a kind of pact we set up between us and God, existing only in our own head.

 

God may not wish to enter into such an arrangement, and so we may very well find that rather than marching forward to ever greater heights of spiritual perfection he instead leaves us in unrest, dryness, darkness and anxiety. If this were to happen, we must know that although this wholly imaginary justice was not fulfilled, God is not ignoring us, or acting arbitrarily, but is very much at work in us fulfilling a much higher justice between us and God. We might have thought that we had given ourselves, but now find ourselves standing before God with empty hands. But this is precisely where God wants us. Although we may not see the gift God gives in return, it doesn’t mean gifts haven’t been given. In fact, we can be sure they have been bestowed on us in the only way God gives - without measure. As long as we stand, as Moses did during the battle, with empty hands raised to God, awaiting whatever he wishes to give, on his terms we will find that we are winning the battle. Our just God is with us, beating down our spiritual foes and leading us to victory. 

We never have a right to expect something definite from God, because all his gifts simply lie beyond what we can grasp, define or determine. What God wants from us is a complete offering of self without conditions. We are to place ourselves wholly at his disposal and let him take what he needs. And for his part he gives everything -  all that is according to his intention. He gives this everything as he wishes, and that means precisely not as human beings expect it, because our human expectation is always conditioned by our nature, our sin, and our very limited perspective. Our expectation ought to be to expect nothing definite. If we really love God, we will expect everything of him, even though we see nothing. Again, what God expects of us nothing other than total consent, total readiness to everything that God should ask. 

Let us then cry out like the widow to our just God to send his Spirit to free us from our adversary, from everything in us that would keep us from this readiness to receive from him who is always ready to bestow on us every good thing; that when he comes he may find faith on earth. 

Photograph by Brother Anthony Kahan. Meditation by Father Timothy.

God's Faithfulness

Perhaps Jesus is using a bit of humor this morning to get our attention. You know the widow in Israel was the archetype of helplessness; she was among the most vulnerable in that society. And the Law of Moses decreed that she must be looked after by those who had more. But the judge in Jesus’ story is so despicable that just he wants to get rid of her and is attentive only because he’s afraid that this “helpless,” probably older woman might come and “strike” him. In one translation the judge says: “I will give her justice, otherwise she will keep coming and end up giving me a black eye.” It’s tragic comic.

Who have we made God into? Who does God want to be for us? These are some of the questions this Gospel raises for us. Could God our Father be at least as good as that nasty judge who gives a just sentence only because he’s afraid of a nagging widow? Might God our Father be at least as attentive as that? If a cruel and unfeeling judge will give in to an irritating widow, how much more will God listen to his own?(see Fred Craddock)

Maybe sometimes we pray as if we’re trying to keep God focused, remind him and get his attention, as if God’s not interested. Maybe we think we need to persuade or nag God. But God’s love, mercy and compassion- literally his suffering with us- are without question. Jesus understands; he gets it. And the ceaseless praying that he is asking of us today is meant to be a deep trust that God is with us, that God sees and understands most deeply everything that concerns us and is on our side. Our incessant prayer is an expression of our constant faith, our trust in God’s care, his loving will and desire for our good. And so, when we “pray always without becoming weary,” we express our trust in the attention of a loving God who wants our good. And we can expect great things.

Prayer is faith enacted, says one scholar. Indeed, what our faith does is pray; we reach out without giving up because we trust - we trust that Someone is listening. But this brings a special challenge, because prayer is a relationship. And if indeed in prayer we are relating to God, to Christ, then we are in relationship with a Someone who is completely other, completely Mystery. In prayer grow in intimacy with this Mystery who loves us. We become more and more accustomed to believing that God is going to work something out, even when we don’t understand God’s ways. We wait, we live in hope, “a hope that will not disappoint.” Part of our praying is then always being able to say, “I trust, even though I don’t understand.”

Jesus our Lord enfleshes this faith and faithfulness. His life, all that he did from the crib to the cross expresses this faithfulness of God-with-us. And so true to who he is, who God is, Jesus comes in the Holy Eucharist to feed us with himself, to be really with us, in us.

With Saint Teresa

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing;
God only is changeless.
Patience gains all things.
Who has God wants nothing.
God alone suffices.

We are always heartened by these words of Saint Teresa of Avila. 

As autumn days grow cooler with first frosts at night, we notice that 

some flowers continue to bloom. Patience gains everything. We pray; we wait; we trust. God never ever abandons us.



Brother Brian's photographs of Brother Gabriel's garden.