CHAPTER 2
After dinner activities included doing the dishes and setting the table for the morning meal by those who had not cooked that evening. Those who did were able to wash up a bit, and eventually everyone joined in community recreation. A few played Uno, a high-spirited card game which allowed the monastics to let out their competitive sides and even seek revenge—for an hour or so. Clare, at the monastery for an extended retreat, sat contentedly in a ratty overstuffed chair and sketched in her large spiral-bound art tablet with colorful acrylic pencils. She was gifted in many ways, and might become a permanent gift for the community.
A few snores wafted down the hall from Brother Benedict’s room every now and then. Sister Scholastica remembered a Saturday afternoon when about twenty Associate Members were gathered at the monastery. During their gathering they spent a half hour in meditation. The same sounds came from Brother Benedict’s room during the meditation period that day as now—only then he was fit and hearty.
Brother Matthew was flourishing. It was obvious to everyone that the monastic life agreed with him. He remembered the prayerful support of his older brother in monastic life, Brother Benedict. His novitiate was far from ordinary and the trauma of the events that occurred during that period was just about healed. It was Matthew’s turn to support Brother Benedict now.
A bell pealed and everyone put aside what he or she was engaged in and gathered in the community room, that part of the great room containing a sofa, some chairs, an enormous peace lily that seemed to have found the fountain of youth, and a wall full of spiritual books.
The Abbot asked Clare to offer a spiritual thought. It was a Salesian custom to ask someone to do so at such gatherings. Clare’s rosy blush complemented her short blond hair.
“Be who you are and be that well,” she said quietly, as if quoting something from one of their founders, Saint Francis de Sales, was really something only vowed members of the community ought to be doing.
There was barely a hint of Clare’s hearing challenge detectable as she spoke. Years of lip reading, and an overwhelming sensitivity to the non-verbals and moods of others, had made Clare almost psychic—certainly highly intuitive. Most of the time the members of the community, and people in general, did not know that Clare was almost totally hearing challenged. The woman radiated a peaceful determination, probably the fruit of struggling to interact with a largely hearing world.
The retreatant’s response triggered a wisp of a memory in the Abbot’s mind. He was now in his early sixties but still remembered a research study on the social skills of folks who might now be known as “little people.” They have above average social skills. He remembered teaching such a wonderful person when he was a high school instructor. Abbot Francis’ experience with the boy bore out the conclusions of that study. He said a brief prayer that the challenges of life might evoke strength in others, not bitterness and anger—an understandable but sad response in some cases.
The monk’s own brother had recently died after living his life with Cerebral Palsy for more than seventy years. Perhaps his brother’s life in some way had motivated him into his present life of--though not always producing miracles--body, mind, and spirit clinical and pastoral practice.
“Earth to Brother Francis,” broadcasted Brother Matthew through his cupped hands. The community had grown used to their Abbot’s lapses into thought now and then. The lapses didn’t last long and were the result of a mind filled with many things, along with a creativity and curiosity which seemed to grow with the years, rather than diminish.
Brother Francis just smiled along with the community and slowly shook his head as if to say, “Oops, I did it again.”
“Thank you Clare,” Abbot Francis responded. “It is a joy to see that our spirit is rubbing off on you. Don’t pick up any of our bad habits though, just the good ones. We are all delighted that you are spending time with us.”
She placed her palm-to-palm hands in front of her heart and bowed, turning her upper body slowly from left to right, so as not to miss anyone in the room, with a gesture of grateful blessing.
It was a good time for the community, with the exception of Brother Benedict’s illness. There was an especially peaceful flow and interaction among the members these days. Yes they had their little squabbles, what family didn’t, monastic or otherwise? They had been through a lot together and it had bonded them--a kind of renewed “Bond of Perfection” which the Rule encouraged them to create through the quality of their lives.
“As you know, I leave for Hawaii tomorrow,” the leader of the small community announced in his soft voice. Most of the time people could hear him well. Once in a while someone had to ask the clinical psychologist cum Doctor of Natural Medicine to repeat himself. Clare never had a problem understanding the Abbot. Her keen intuition was finely honed to pick up on Brother Francis’ strong qi field.
Qi is a concept from Chinese Medicine. The Abbot specialized in this ancient branch of healing. Not all aspects of the five thousand years of clinical application of Chinese medicine was researched, but there were indeed thousands upon thousands of studies to support and document the effectiveness and safety of Chinese healing.
Perhaps because the United States Food and Drug Administration could not patent the ancient formulas used in the herbology aspect of Traditional Chinese Medicine, or TCM as it is often referred to, the FDA has little interest in researching the field. Some say that if they found a way to change a formula or even a molecule, and could then patent a particular treatment, the FDA might have more interest.
Be that as it may, the Abbot had a type of dual mind. One side immediately asked, at least internally, for people to “show me the science” when claims were made about any approach to healing. The other side of his mind didn’t let his Lehigh University and Arkansas College of Natural Health training stop him from going beyond the science when clinical experience or intuition encouraged him to do so, as long as the strategy would not endanger his patient.
The bi-modal aspects of the Abbot’s brain in some ways reflected the very physical structure of all human brains—the left side being more linear and analytic and the right side being more intuitive and able to “see between the lines” of a given situation.
A physical structure called the corpus callosum connected the two hemispheres of the human brain with one another. One might picture it as a thick bunch of cables bringing wholeness to the human personality. Some people are more dominant on the logical side of life, while others are more intuitive and live by their gut impressions. Life situations push us to develop the less preferred style of interacting with the world so that by middle age we can do some of both, but still have our logical or intuitive preferences.
“My dear friends Lily and Dominic have invited me to give a workshop at the retreat house they created. I’m also supposed to speak at an ecumenical Martin Luther King celebration later in January. Even though that is a one day event, and the workshop lasts much longer, it’s the MLK event I feel most excited about. Lily and Dominic have also arranged for me to do a few private health consults while in Hawaii too, and have some time to myself for quiet and relaxation.”
“Aren’t there several Hawaiian islands?” asked a weak male voice. Brother Benedict was standing just inside the community room at the end of the hallway connecting to his room and some of the guest rooms.
Everyone was startled to put it mildly. They had wondered only two hours ago if he was alive and now Brother Benedict was up and trying to join in with the community as it met to organize life in the monastery.
“Have a seat Brother, and I’ll tell you what I know about where I am going, even though I don’t really know that much. I’ve been told that the Hawaiian Islands make up the most remote chain of islands in the world, more than two thousand miles from the nearest land mass.
“I believe that there are eight major islands and one hundred twenty-four minor islands, shoals and reefs, which string out across the Pacific ocean. The island called ‘Hawaii’ is also knows as the ‘Big Island.’ That leaves us with Kauai, Molokai, Lanai, Kahoolawe, and Niihau.” The Abbot ticked off the list of islands with his fingers. “I think I have that straight.”
“You’ve been studying up,” Brother Benedict responded. “You still have not told us what island you will be on.”
“That’s him,” Sister Jane de Chantal added. “Our Abbot has a tremendous grasp of the subtleties in life but sometimes misses the most obvious.”
“Thank you Sister,” Brother Francis answered with smiling face and bowed head. “Community life certainly keeps us honest. Be careful Clare! This crowd doesn’t let anything slip by.”
Sounding a little like a response on the Jeopardy television show—which none of them had seen in years—the Abbot answered the question. “I’ll be on the island of Kauai.”
“Ah, the Garden Island,” added Sister Scholastica softly.
Brother Matthew gave her a quizzical look. “Have you been there, Sister?”
“In my dreams,” the nun responded somewhat evasively with a far away look in her eyes.
“Molokai, Molokai,” mumbled Clare reflectively. “I think that’s the island where Father Damian worked with the people with leprosy about a century ago.”
“Right you are. He was a member of a religious community devoted to the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary and received permission to devote his life to the care of the very sick. Mother Mary Anne Cope, a Franciscan Sister of Syracuse, New York, joined Father Damian in that ministry.”
“Today we call leprosy ‘Hansen’s Disease,’” explained Sister Scholastica.
The nun continued more excitedly. “Leprosy has been known since biblical times and its symptoms include disfiguring skin sores, damage of nerves, and debilitation over time. It is caused by contact with an organism but is not as contagious as we once thought. Due to Hansen’s long incubation period, it is sometimes difficult to determine where and when the disease was first contracted.
“Children are more susceptible to the disease, but because of modern treatments and greater understanding, there is no longer a need for special ‘leper colonies’ for people who contract Hansen’s.”
Sister Scholastica opened her mouth to continue. It was obvious that there was much more information in her brain. She saw the startled looks on the others in the room and shut down with an almost palpable thud.
No one tried to pry into the source of this information from their rather private sister in community. They knew that it would get them nowhere.
The community meeting, called “Chapter,” ended with the members shifting gears into “Grand Silence.” This nightly period of greater silence lasted until after breakfast each morning. Their recent weeks of special peace now had the slight tinge of something unknown mixing into it.
Low lighting in the Oratory created an atmosphere conducive to the last liturgical prayer of the day. Compline completes the daily cycle of the Liturgy of the Hours each night.