Chapter 1
No murder or mayhem at the moment thought the monk as he settled himself on his wooden prayer bench in the Oratory. I haven’t stumbled over a dead body or had to deal with anyone in our community being kidnapped in a long while. Not even a novice having recurring nightmares has disturbed my peace of mind! Underneath Brother Francis’ reflection concerning gratitude for a relatively calmer existence was a lower-case question mark. Perhaps he was not so sure he liked things this way.
He spoke to his Master. Thank you, Jesus, for inviting me to found this small monastic community. We usually have about six members, plus or minus one or two. You called me from a more active form of religious life to lead a more monastic expression of the vowed life, but it seems that I am busier than ever. The most important thing is keeping my mind and heart fixed on you, Rabbi Jesus.
It seemed to Brother Francis that Christ was in agreement with his assessment of the vocation to which he had been called. The prayer bench he sat on to meditate hinted of the mysteries of the East. He would start by simply kneeling down and then place the low bench made of pinewood over his ankles. Two pieces of wood formed the sides and a flat top, tilted slightly forward, completed the meditation aid. When Francis would sit back on the bench, he was about eight inches off the floor, but his mind and heart would be soaring to the heavens.
Francis’ meditations were more contemplative and non-verbal than they had been many years ago. He would often take a mantra, a simple word or phrase, and repeat it over and over again. Sometimes Francis would repeat the mantra in rhythm with his breath--once on each exhalation. One of his favorite mantras came from Asia and is used there by millions of people everyday.
May I be filled with loving kindness,
May I be well.
May I be peaceful and at ease,
May I be happy.
At times Francis would change the pronoun to “may he or she or they be filled with loving kindness.” He did this especially when he found someone difficult to deal with. If he was praying for that person, Francis thought that his heart, if not his feelings, was in the right place. When the Abbot focused on his breathing during meditation he would expand his lower abdomen on an inhalation and relax it on an exhalation over and over again, thus bringing body, mind, and spirit into oneness.
Whatever tool Francis chose from the many he had learned as a novice, or from his spiritual reading, or from Asian hospital rotations and monastic adventures there, his goal was always union with God and honesty with self. This morning, however, his prayer was more conversational than usual. He believed that the Holy Spirit is the one who really leads the prayer and that it is up to us to respond simply and in freedom. Today the Holy Spirit seemed to be leading him toward an informal chat with Jesus.
Recently Francis had celebrated the forty-year anniversary of his entrance into monastic life. During all of those years his constant prayer was the Liturgy of the Hours, more commonly known as the “Divine Office” prior to the liturgical updating of Vatican Council II, which is the public or common prayer of the Church. This set of prayer services is said throughout the world. Originally they were chanted in Latin, but since the Council, they are said in the vernacular language of the local region. The Liturgy of the Hours is a way to celebrate and consecrate the various stages of the day and night to God, and Francis found these periodic services helpful during the course of his busy days, in bringing him back to the reason he became a monk in the first place.
The Abbot was not sure which part, or Hour, of the Office he liked the best. At certain times of his life Francis was deeply drawn to the Office of Vigils, which is a nocturnal prayer service, said sometime the previous evening or during the night, but certainly before dawn. The somewhat lengthy readings of that Hour fed his soul and educated him about scripture and the liturgical feast or season being celebrated.
The rhythm of Francis’ prayer and daily life was drawing him these days toward the Office called Morning Prayer. In the old Latin way of referring to this Office, it was called Lauds. This word simply means praise.
Like the other Offices, which include Midday Prayer (generically called Daytime Prayer because it can be prayed as Midmorning, Midday, or Midafternoon Prayer), Evening Prayer, and Night Prayer, this liturgical service is made up largely of Psalms.
The Psalms were sung by our Jewish sisters and brothers and reflect their faith in the Creator as someone who led them from slavery to freedom. Many times this slavery and freedom is an inner experience. The monastic doctor had often seen very poor and sick people who had great inner freedom, while the materially wealthy and healthy were sometimes much enslaved. The inner journey was the real one for him.
Francis had been to Israel on two occasions and felt deeply about the need to pray and work for freedom for all peoples. He saw places of imprisonment, destruction, and violence juxtaposed against all of the famous places that make up the sites where Biblical events occurred throughout the whole Judeo-Christian experience.
The Office of the Vigils had been celebrated in the dark and early hours of that day and the time of quiet meditation followed. The founder was preparing his mind and heart to celebrate Morning Prayer, which would begin shortly, with the community. Nature was joining in the preparation, hinting at sunrise by streaking the sky with a bit of red, orange, gold, and pink. In addition to the chanting of the Psalms, with antiphons setting the theme for the various feasts of the liturgical calendar, Morning and Evening Prayer had a reading from scripture as a focal point and then some intercessory prayers to God for the Church in general. These prayers were verbalized and then there was a period of time where the community members and guests of the monastery could voice their own petitions to God.
Petitionary prayer is yet another form of prayer. Francis often thought that people made too much of petitionary prayer. His focus was very much on prayer as a vehicle for relating to someone whom he loved, and not so much a “give me, give me, give me” kind of relationship, yet he knew that we do have the freedom to ask for what we need from friends and loved ones and he did that too with his God.
Following the petitions at Morning Prayer, a canticle from the Bible known as the Benedictus in Latin is chanted every day. In English it is often referred to as “Zachary’s Canticle.” This song is a way of rejoicing in the new day, the new life that one finds in spirituality, and is also a reminder of Jesus’ resurrection early on a Sabbath morning.
Even though Francis wondered about his favorite Office and found his opinion changing, moving through the various Offices as he moved through life, the Canticle of Zachary continued to be one of his favorite expressions of prayer from the Scriptures.
The door behind him and to his right opened, and in came one of the nuns from the community. She lit a candle on the altar and rang the bell, which called the other members of the community to prayer. The bell is reverenced as the voice of God in a monastery--calling the community together to worship.
One of the monks entered next, along with a few men and women who were there on retreat, and before long there was a community of about eight members gathered to support one another in reverencing their God breaking through into the new day.
Because it was a Sunday morning, incense was lit on the altar to add to the festivities. The aroma of this particular incense was sandalwood, and its smoke rose from a pewter incense holder.
At this point the meditating monk was doing some belly breathing and the sandalwood aroma wafted toward him, taking him back in his mind and heart to various trips he had made to Asia as a younger monk. He found himself welling up with thoughts and feelings of gratitude that the God of surprises had created the opportunity for him to become a naturopathic doctor specializing in Chinese medicine, as well as a clinical psychologist specializing in behavioral medicine. Some of the patients referred to office visits with the monk / doctor as “one-stop shopping.”
Francis rose up off of his prayer bench and slid it under the chair behind his choir stall. The chairs were new. (Only the best would do in this monastery.) They were delivered via UPS after having been ordered on the Internet from Staples. The choir stalls--podiums of pinewood used to hold an open book in front of someone who was chanting the Divine Office and capable of storing a few books underneath on a shelf--were made by Brother Benedict of their monastery. Francis sat in his chair and made his “Direction of Intention.”
St. Jane de Chantal and St. Francis de Sales, founders of this entire world-wide family of monks and nuns, committed lay women and men, and priests and religious brothers, encourage the members of their spiritual family to make such a Direction of Intention. It is really an offering of oneself, and acceptance of all that occurs, upon rising in the morning and frequently throughout the day before their various activities, including times of prayer. Francis offered his prayer to God, embracing whatever experiences of consolation or desolation, clarity of mind or distraction that would occur therein. After that he rapped on the wooden wall to his left with his knuckle as a sign for the assembled community to stand and begin their celebration.
He intoned, “O God, come to my assistance.” The community responded with, “O Lord, make haste to help me.” The group in the Oratory stood and bowed in unison from their waists chanting, “Glory to you, Source of all being, Eternal Word and Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and will be forever. Amen. Alleluia.” It was Sister Jane’s turn to play the keyboard accompanying the chanting, so Brother Francis sat in his chair and sung the Psalms with the group. He listened attentively to the reading of Scripture and poured his heart out in petitionary prayer as the needs of people all over the world were prayed for. He asked God for the strength to do whatever he could do actively to help some of those needs so that his prayer would not be simply words. He knew well, however, the power of God to listen to those words and act on them. When the Canticle of Zachary was intoned, Francis stood with the others and sang in a new and more vibrant way that blessed canticle which Zachary sung in prophecy when his son, John the Baptist, was born.
Something deep in the heart of the Abbot knew that an adventure was brewing. Maybe it was simply wishful thinking, but his intuition was reputed to be rather sharp--and he could feel a rumbling in the atmosphere.
Canticle of Zachary
+Blessed are you, God of Israel
for you have turned your face towards your people and set us free,
and have raised up a horn of salvation for us
in the house of your servant.
As you spoke through the mouths
of your holy prophets of long ago,
that we should be saved from our enemies
and from the hand of all who oppress us;
to perform the mercy promised to our ancestors,
and to remember your holy covenant,
the oath you swore to Abraham and Sarah,
to grant us deliverance from evil,
that we might serve you without fear,
in holiness and righteousness
all the days of our lives.
And you, little child,
will be called the prophet of the Most High,
for you will go before the Holy One
to prepare God's ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to God's people
in the forgiveness of their sins,
because the heart of our God is full of mercy towards us,
the day shall dawn upon us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet
into the path of peace.
The service concluded with Brother Francis chanting a prayer to sum up or collect the thoughts and feelings of the group. Then he gave his blessing to the community. It was time for breakfast.