CHAPTER 2
Noontime on Saturday in a monastery. The morning is spent cleaning, perhaps some of the afternoon too if need be. The break for prayer and lunch is appreciated by all. Daytime Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours, the Divine Office, is the shortest of the five communal prayer services which punctuate the various phases of the day and night in a monastic community.
Anthony, beginning his one-month Observership in the small household of monks and nuns, listened devoutly to the final prayer of this ten-minute service:
Let us Pray: Another week has passed, life-giving God, and we celebrate all that we have done well and reflect on what we might have done differently. We offer this all to you. Bless what is good and heal what needs wholeness. Animate us to do your loving will with creativity and generosity in the week to come. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.
The bouquet of flowers in front of the square pine wood altar was just about out of blossoms and the bright colors had muted into a more washed-out version. Liturgically, Sunday begins at Evening Prayer / Vespers, and a fresh bunch of flowers will be picked to replace these dying embers this afternoon. After a final bit of cleaning the small house of prayer would be ready. A whole new week begins at Saturday Evening Prayer in a monastery—everything clean and fresh in preparation for the Sunday solemnity.
The Angelus, a brief private devotional set of prayers commemorating the miracle of Jesus becoming flesh, was recited quietly by each member of the community at the end of Daytime Prayer. By ten minutes after twelve, Brother Matthew, Sister Scholastica, Sister Jane de Chantal, Brother Benedict, and Brother Francis, and Anthony made their way from the small, white, barn-like structure where they prayed in common day in and day out, to the larger but modest house for lunch.
Brother Benedict, in his very late sixties and appearing a little shorter than his five foot six inch height these days, pulled several trays of sandwich fixings out of the refrigerator while Sister Jane de Chantal placed a basket of bread on the table. The coffee machine sputtered and gurgled as green tea brewed. Lunch was usually informal and, contrary to breakfast and dinner, the community members engaged in conversation while eating. People sat around informally too—some on the couch, others in chairs or at the table.
Mediterranean looking, with a hint of silver at the edge of his thick black hair, Anthony struggled to fit in—not just at lunch—but also throughout his life. He could relate better to computers than he could to human beings he openly admitted to the Abbot Francis when he had his initial interview, prior to being invited to do a one-month Observership with the community. This month would give both sides of the equation some time to observe one another prior to the possibility of Anthony entering the first phase of monastic life, known as Postulancy, which is what he was considering doing.
“Sometimes silent meals are easier, Anthony,” offered Brother Matthew, still in his simple or temporary vows. He had only been with the community about five years at this point and was just about fully recovered from a trauma he suffered while he was a novice.
Anthony gave a weak smile in response, while trying to balance a plate of food on his knees as he sat on the sofa in the large room, which served as living room, kitchen, and dining room. Some folks in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania called such a living space a “great room” but that sounded a bit haughty for monastics. “Thanks for the comforting words. All of this is certainly a lot to get used to.”
“Give it time,” Brother Benedict hollered over from the sink. I didn’t enter until I was in my fifties. It does seem to be harder to adapt when we’re older but it certainly can be done. Many people going into monastic life and the clergy these days are older. Not like our Abbot, Brother Francis, who was seventeen years old when he joined monastic life.”
The Abbot just smiled, happy that others were leading the conversation. He was center-stage more than he cared to be.
“Do the math and you will figure out his age!” quipped Sister Jane de Chantal as Sister Scholastica added to the humor by counting on her fingers. “By the way, Sister Scholastica is just above five feet tall, and I’m just below six feet tall. That’s about the only personal data you’ll get from us so don’t even think about our ages,” she joked.
Sister Scholastica continued with the group effort to help Anthony feel at home. “We are all pretty much from the northeastern part of America. I understand that you are from California, Anthony. Do I have it right?”
“That’s correct, Sister. I’ve been ‘out West’ as you folks say, all of my life, working as a computer programmer most of my adult life. I made brief visits to several monasteries out there but none of them seemed to attract me. Your Salesian charism is a real draw to me, and the fact that you are a small community, and a dual community of men and women is nice too. You also have people come here for retreat, that appeals to me as well.” He stopped awkwardly, not knowing what to say next or how to end his sharing.
“I’ll bet you see movie stars from time to time in California,” Sister Jane de Chantal said as a way of breaking the silence.
“Yes Sister, I do. In fact, I lived next to Lucille Ball when I was little. There were others around too, but I don’t want to name drop.”
“Not to worry,” interjected Brother Benedict, “we can use a little excitement here sometimes. Feel free to fill us in on your adventures whenever you like. More baloney?” Everyone laughed and Anthony lost his plate of food with a splat.
“Don’t let this group get to you, Anthony. Community life requires a thick skin sometimes and we are just helping you to develop one,” Brother Matthew added as he sipped his green tea in a way indicating that he really enjoyed it.
Clean up was quick and easy. The community dispersed in order to finish up their morning tasks, clean up, rest, and prepare to gather once again for Evening Prayer. The monastery was quiet again and Anthony found himself in his guest room wondering what he had gotten himself into.