here's another excerpt on that book i've been trying to finish...chipping at it one word at a time :-)
In Search for the Simple and Deep Things
It was midsummer when we went to the idyllic island of Guimaras to spend ten days at the Trappist monastery. Of the myriad memories that assail, I remember first the heat – infernal and all-encompassing. In my waking dreams, I go back to that place and feel the sun on my face once more. Sweat poured profusely comingling with the tears the flowed in copious amount those ten days we had – seminary professors, pastors, counselors, medical doctors, social workers that made up our group. Only when the dusk comes that you find relief from the humidity and the heat.
Then I remember the laughter – from our boisterous group still adjusting to the unaccustomed silence, and the gusty belly-laughs coming from the monks – from Brother Bruno, our retreat master. He was witty and funny and charming. In his life before he entered the cloisters, he must have been a gregarious, sophisticated man of the cloth. One would think that monks living such a hard life would be glowering, dour men who would never smile or have fun. But that is farthest from the truth. None were as cheerful and light hearted as these men.
The monks were quick to laugh, to smile, and almost in child-like simplicity. They went about their duties with quiet dignity. When they rise at 2:15am to prepare for the Vigils, the monks no longer go back to bed, but devote their time in prayer and intercession for the slumbering world. They then engage themselves in manual labor, tending the farm, the food processing, and many other works. Work and prayer- this is their credo. At certain hours (7 times in a day), the bell rings to call the faithful to times of prayer. During the prayer time, the monks lift up songs of praise and adoration to God as they chant the psalms. A portion of the time is also devoted to Scripture, meditations and readings. I love the moment of silence after the Scripture is read.
In a flurry of memories, the details come into focus: Calloused, sunburned hands folded in repose, stilled from the labors of the day. Palms held open, it is a poem of praise, a hymn of celebration. These hands, this life: all are offered as a fitting sacrifice. In your mind’s eye you see the gray robe swaying gently, the brown belt swaying rhythmically along the waist, sandaled feet hurrying to go back to the enclosure – like lovers on their way to a tryst, or children on their way to play- these are images evoked as the monks nimbly proceed to the chapel for the prayers. Indeed, the monks are on their way to meet their Love and child-like, they lift up their eyes to gaze at the Father in wonder and awe.
In the space between sleep and being awake, I hear it once more: the sonorous chants of the monks as it echoes in the chamber, and strikes a chord that reverberate to that place where we hide the most secret, most sacred of our being. In the darkness, a faint light sends a sliver of ray that lifts up the weakened spirit as His presence is made manifest in the absence of abstractions. (This is during the Compline, the last prayer for the day. It is a worship service done in total darkness, and only the voices of the monks can be heard. They are singing, chanting psalms and prayers to the Lord.)
And then, silence – the absence of noise that comes from the outside world, but it is also the stilling of the inward voice that sometimes yells when it is not being listened to. The noises we have come to rely on to cover the emptiness of our lives are slowly peeled away. We cringe at the thought of so much silence, because ultimately it leads us to look inward, and what we see, what we hear there will tell us how we really are, how we have been –and we may not like what we see there. Silence is uncomfortable, painful even. But those who dare immerse themselves in silence, and in solitude find Someone waiting for them there – and find acceptance, not condemnation. We find love instead of rejection. We find grace that unshackles us from the burdens of our religion.
In the absence of worldly possessions – the dearth of outside distractions, how does one find fulfillment? The learned Jonathan, one of our companions, tells us, “We think that life in the monastery – life without t.v., without magazines, without the modern gadgets we think necessary to enjoy life- is at best boring, and at worst, tragic. But we who are outside the enclosure, with all these things, don’t we also find life boring, and tragic? It is therefore not these things that bring meaning and joy into our lives. It points to something else”
I agree. It is not the outward, glitzy things that matter most. There is more to life than these. However, we have somehow forgotten that below the surface of things are matters of profound significance. We are satisfied skimming at the exterior. But we have exchanged the simple and the deep things of God for the shallow and the complicated of this world. No, I am not an advocate for the ascetic life of the monks. In fact, for me, one of the highlight of the retreat is the 10th day, when we can go back to our noisy, busy lives. And yet somehow, the words of Jonathan struck a chord.
If it is not these things that bring meaning and joy to our lives, what does? What should be pursued? When all is stripped away, what should be the essential way to live?
The desert fathers of long ago described it as “in simplicitate cordis, in simplicity of heart. It described a life stripped of all that is unessential and trivial, a life increasingly focused only one thing is important: seeking Christ. This is how one should live. This is what should be pursued. And the expression of this life is found in the works of our hands, in our dealings with others, in the way we treat and look at ourselves. There is no separation from who we are and what we do. Who we are – our inner most identity, and what we do - our dealings, the very thing that defines our pursuits – these are integrated in an uncomplicated unity. We find its most meaningful manifestation in simple virtues.
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true,
whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just,
whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely,
whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue,
and if there be any praise, think on these things.
Philippians 4:8
In Search for the Simple and Deep Things
It was midsummer when we went to the idyllic island of Guimaras to spend ten days at the Trappist monastery. Of the myriad memories that assail, I remember first the heat – infernal and all-encompassing. In my waking dreams, I go back to that place and feel the sun on my face once more. Sweat poured profusely comingling with the tears the flowed in copious amount those ten days we had – seminary professors, pastors, counselors, medical doctors, social workers that made up our group. Only when the dusk comes that you find relief from the humidity and the heat.
Then I remember the laughter – from our boisterous group still adjusting to the unaccustomed silence, and the gusty belly-laughs coming from the monks – from Brother Bruno, our retreat master. He was witty and funny and charming. In his life before he entered the cloisters, he must have been a gregarious, sophisticated man of the cloth. One would think that monks living such a hard life would be glowering, dour men who would never smile or have fun. But that is farthest from the truth. None were as cheerful and light hearted as these men.
The monks were quick to laugh, to smile, and almost in child-like simplicity. They went about their duties with quiet dignity. When they rise at 2:15am to prepare for the Vigils, the monks no longer go back to bed, but devote their time in prayer and intercession for the slumbering world. They then engage themselves in manual labor, tending the farm, the food processing, and many other works. Work and prayer- this is their credo. At certain hours (7 times in a day), the bell rings to call the faithful to times of prayer. During the prayer time, the monks lift up songs of praise and adoration to God as they chant the psalms. A portion of the time is also devoted to Scripture, meditations and readings. I love the moment of silence after the Scripture is read.
In a flurry of memories, the details come into focus: Calloused, sunburned hands folded in repose, stilled from the labors of the day. Palms held open, it is a poem of praise, a hymn of celebration. These hands, this life: all are offered as a fitting sacrifice. In your mind’s eye you see the gray robe swaying gently, the brown belt swaying rhythmically along the waist, sandaled feet hurrying to go back to the enclosure – like lovers on their way to a tryst, or children on their way to play- these are images evoked as the monks nimbly proceed to the chapel for the prayers. Indeed, the monks are on their way to meet their Love and child-like, they lift up their eyes to gaze at the Father in wonder and awe.
In the space between sleep and being awake, I hear it once more: the sonorous chants of the monks as it echoes in the chamber, and strikes a chord that reverberate to that place where we hide the most secret, most sacred of our being. In the darkness, a faint light sends a sliver of ray that lifts up the weakened spirit as His presence is made manifest in the absence of abstractions. (This is during the Compline, the last prayer for the day. It is a worship service done in total darkness, and only the voices of the monks can be heard. They are singing, chanting psalms and prayers to the Lord.)
And then, silence – the absence of noise that comes from the outside world, but it is also the stilling of the inward voice that sometimes yells when it is not being listened to. The noises we have come to rely on to cover the emptiness of our lives are slowly peeled away. We cringe at the thought of so much silence, because ultimately it leads us to look inward, and what we see, what we hear there will tell us how we really are, how we have been –and we may not like what we see there. Silence is uncomfortable, painful even. But those who dare immerse themselves in silence, and in solitude find Someone waiting for them there – and find acceptance, not condemnation. We find love instead of rejection. We find grace that unshackles us from the burdens of our religion.
In the absence of worldly possessions – the dearth of outside distractions, how does one find fulfillment? The learned Jonathan, one of our companions, tells us, “We think that life in the monastery – life without t.v., without magazines, without the modern gadgets we think necessary to enjoy life- is at best boring, and at worst, tragic. But we who are outside the enclosure, with all these things, don’t we also find life boring, and tragic? It is therefore not these things that bring meaning and joy into our lives. It points to something else”
I agree. It is not the outward, glitzy things that matter most. There is more to life than these. However, we have somehow forgotten that below the surface of things are matters of profound significance. We are satisfied skimming at the exterior. But we have exchanged the simple and the deep things of God for the shallow and the complicated of this world. No, I am not an advocate for the ascetic life of the monks. In fact, for me, one of the highlight of the retreat is the 10th day, when we can go back to our noisy, busy lives. And yet somehow, the words of Jonathan struck a chord.
If it is not these things that bring meaning and joy to our lives, what does? What should be pursued? When all is stripped away, what should be the essential way to live?
The desert fathers of long ago described it as “in simplicitate cordis, in simplicity of heart. It described a life stripped of all that is unessential and trivial, a life increasingly focused only one thing is important: seeking Christ. This is how one should live. This is what should be pursued. And the expression of this life is found in the works of our hands, in our dealings with others, in the way we treat and look at ourselves. There is no separation from who we are and what we do. Who we are – our inner most identity, and what we do - our dealings, the very thing that defines our pursuits – these are integrated in an uncomplicated unity. We find its most meaningful manifestation in simple virtues.
Comments