Chapter 23
"Lord, open my lips," sang Francis as he traced the sign of the cross over his lips with his right thumb. The community chanted in response: "and my mouth shall declare your praise."
It was perfectly dark in the oratory, with the exception of the candle flame, as the community celebrated the liturgical Office of Vigils during which they keep watch for the Christ who breaks into their day and who will come again at the end of time. After psalm ninety-five, which is a call to worship and a dialog between Francis and the group and long ago memorized by all, some soft lighting illuminated the interior of the sacred space.
Francis tried to join the group in reciting the psalms back and forth and struggled to keep his mind on the readings from Scripture, the early fathers and mothers of the Church, and from his own founders, Saint Francis de Sales and Saint Jane de Chantal, but was intensely aware of the rising feeling within him that something was about to break lose. He had an overwhelming sense that John had been to the oratory to pray last night. John's presence still lingered in the air. Was he neglecting the community by being so involved with these murders? Would the Bishop require another "command performance" from him? He loved Chantal's presence in his life but was he giving her or Dave or anybody else wrong ideas? The "break even" financial picture of the monastery was leaning toward pink, if not red.
Silence--a sense of everyone waiting for someone or something. Then he realized that the community was waiting for him to end the office with the usual prayer and so he did, trying not to sound startled or hurried: "Come Lord Jesus!" With that one or two sat down in their choir stalls and the others left the oratory. There were a man and a woman there on retreat and Francis had barely met them, let alone seen either of them privately for spiritual direction. He guiltily hoped that they were having a good experience. He always told retreatants that the Holy Spirit was really the retreat director. That would literally have to be the case this time around.
The abbot sat in the darkness, closed his eyes, and just let his head clear. This was supposed to be Lectio Divina time. This was supposed to be a time of meditation and contemplation, perhaps sparked by the prayerful reading of Scripture or the writings of the monastic fathers and mothers. Francis's contemplation this morning came straight from his heart and was largely a cry of the blind and deaf people from the Gospel for the Lord's help.
I want to do your will, my God. I think I'm doing it, but if I'm not, please let me know. In the quiet darkness he knew that something was brewing in the universe and it involved him. "Come Lord Jesus, Come Lord Jesus" echoed over and over in his mind. As if some time warp, an hour and a half had passed and the bell was ringing for Morning Prayer, the office of Lauds. The community gathered once again and the sun was now rising.
Francis gave a knock on the side of his choir stall and the group stood up as he intoned: "O God, come to my assistance," making the sign of the cross from forehead to chest and from shoulder to shoulder along with the others. The psalms were sung and a reading from Scripture was proclaimed. The canticle of Zachary was sung, reminding those assembled of redemption, resurrection, new life, and the time for the intercessions for the needs of the world at large came. Various people spontaneously offered prayers for the sick, the poor, the guests at the monastery, etc. Francis prayed out loud for the recently departed and interiorly for his own peace and openness to whatever role he would play in solving the mystery of their deaths. He chanted the final prayer and blessed the community and the work of their hands that day and all departed in silence for an informal breakfast of coffee, toast, cereal and then it was off to work for everyone.
The phone rang on Francis' desk. He picked it up and was greeted by John's voice.
"Yes, I am meditating regularly. Thank you for the use of the oratory. It really helps. I'm feeling quite refreshed and strengthened. My eyes feel more peaceful and, perhaps more importantly, I have a memory of a car parked near our house when I left to go and tend to my patients the night Beth was killed. It may be nothing but I think there could be more to it than that. All I can do is keep open, I suppose."
"That's right, John, you're doing really well," said Francis in a peaceful and encouraging tone.
"I'll be seeing you in a few days, right?"
"That's for sure, John, and maybe you'll be seeing more than me."
"In the meanwhile, I have a patient whom I'd like to refer to you if it's possible--a young man who recently lost his little infant daughter and who is very depressed and spiritually conflicted."
"Okay John; I'll do what I can. As you know, there are never enough hours in the day but if he calls me I'll do my best to see him at least one time"
"Good enough, Francis, thanks for everything. I'll be talking to you soon. I'm grateful. Bye."
Francis had put aside the hours of the morning to get some paper work done and with the exception of a couple phone calls was able to do pretty well. Shortly before eleven, he walked over to the main building and into the library where the community was assembled for Chapter. The meeting takes its name from the ancient practice of reading a chapter of the Rule before the community discusses any business it needs to attend to. After a brief prayer led by the Abbot, Sister Jane de Chantal read from the Rule: A reading from the Holy Rule of the Salesian Monastic Community.@
The monks and nuns live the Salesian monastic life in response to the Lord's call. An integral part of each monastery is the guest house, a place through which others enjoy and share in the monastic atmosphere in order to renew themselves.
Ministry, be it manual labor, professional services, pastoral care, etc., is also a part of our life. Work outside of the monastery is not to exceed the time limits of a half-time position, ideally carried out during the day. This will leave early morning and late afternoon and evening free for contemplation and community life.
"Thank you, Sister Jane. I don't have much to say this morning. I know I'm usually talking about some material needs such as a broken pipe or a paint job needing to be done or asking you to prepare for one guest or another, but this time I'll leave it completely up to you. Does anyone have anything to say for the good of us all? Things were quiet for a moment and then Francis said: "Sister Scholastica you look like you'd like to speak but are not quite sure if you want to."
"You are exactly right, Abbot Francis. Thanks for your encouragement. It's just that the reading we just read from the Holy Rule got me thinking that you work too hard. You certainly work a lot more than a half-time position. It's more like time and a half and lately it's been more of that than ever. I don't feel neglected and I don't think the others do either but I am concerned for your health and well-being."
"Thank you, Sister, I truly appreciate that. As you all know, I've been involved in two murder investigations along with my other work. When this thing clears, I promise that I will take a few hermit days, either at the ashram or over at the Jesuit Center where, as you know, I minister part-time."
Brother Benedict spoke up. "That sounds good to me, we need our founding Abbot. Keep your strength up. You're supposed to outlive me, remember?"
"Thank you, Brother, I'll leave that up to God." The joke seemed to break the tension.
"Brother Matthew, you look like you're in good spirits today. How are things?"
"Oh, I'm doing well, Abbot Francis. I'll be talking with you about it very soon. I feel a little guilty because I think maybe I'm a part of your burden."
"No, please don't feel that way. That's why I'm here. You are a priority. I'm feeling some guilt because I've not been able to give the community the attention it deserves. The four others responded almost in unison 'That's not true.'"
Brother Benedict summed up for the community, "I'm the oldest here and I've seen a lot of monastic life. I transferred here from a very busy monastery to lead a simpler life, closer to what monasticism started out like and I'm glad that I did. We have more than we need from you and the Lord, so I think we're all saying that all is well but just to be careful not to over-extend, and to get some rest when things calm down a bit."
"Well," sighed the Abbot, "it sounds as if the voice of the Spirit is coming through loudly and clearly and I will listen to what you have to say and am grateful for it. I think each of us could stand a little recreation or maybe some quiet time, whatever you prefer. How about if anyone who wants to, goes over to the state park one day this weekend. That is sometimes fun for me but right now I would be very happy just to sit outside and maybe do some busy work to let my mind clear. All in favor?"
Everybody responded in the affirmative, and since it seemed like all were in agreement and that the meeting was ending and on a happy note. Francis, however, felt some discord in his gut.