Out at the prison, we've been reading Jon Sweeney's book Cloister Talks. In it, Sweeney takes us along with him as he journeys to monasteries, seeking advice and friendship. Early in the book, Sweeney tells several stories about the value of simplicity. When I've traveled up to Gethsemani in the past, I've taken several books and planned on how much work I'd get done. But Sweeney relates the wisdom of his friends the monks, who says things like "when you visit [a monastery], don't walk around looking for moments of enlightened insight...Instead, you should walk around praying...Just sit. Try your best to stop thinking," and "Think less. Speak less. Do less. Try to be less...My goal is to live, at least for a time, as if I don't have goals to achieve" (19, 22).
So instead of going up with goals for how much I read and write, I just went. I took my Book of Common Prayer, Mitch Finley's The Rosary Handbook, a small notebook, and a set of Rosary beads. That's it.
Upon getting to the church, we found out that there was a special Mass being celebrated in honor of the feast day of St. Benedict. That was both enjoyable and frustrating. Enjoyable because the Mass is always refreshing and the homily was quite good—it focused on giving up our selves to God. But it was frustrating too since we were unable to share communion with the Brothers and retreatants there. The "closedness" of the closed table struck me as especially evident. I stayed in the church's balcony since I knew I couldn't receive the elements in good conscience there. In honesty, I got really frustrated by all the language of unity while we sat unable to share the bread and wine because of the hierarchy in Rome.
Feeling frustrated—and wanting to get over that frustration—I read John 17. I am really thankful that John records this prayer; knowing that Jesus was concerned about unity gives me hope...But it also makes me lament. We Christians, as the body of Christ, have divided and excluded and hurt and harmed other members of the body of Christ long enough, methinks. Maybe someday Christians of all sorts will be able to share the Thanksgiving meal together.
After I read from John, I entered a time of contemplative prayer. Honestly, it is the first time I've tried it in about two years. I sat in silence for half-an-hour. During that time, I listened. Contemplative prayer is an odd thing. On the one hand, it's refreshing and relaxing. And on the other hand, its scary because it leaves us completely vulnerable to self-examination and growth. At one moment, I had a feeling of regret for not making prayer a regular part of my life these last two years. It was like The Cloud of Unknowing momentarily opened and lamented the distance that I've kept from God since...graduating from undergrad, really. Contemplative prayer is also tricky because trying to describe our experiences in silence often sounds like nonsense. Crazy as it sounds, it seemed like God was saying, "I miss you, kid."
Parenthetically here: on the way back, we listened to an Arcade Fire mix cd I made for Dr. Goode to listen to. There's a line in "Antichrist Television Blues" that says, "My lips are near, but my heart is far away." As we journeyed home, Arcade Fire gave words to what I feel about myself. My time in contemplative prayer made me realize that I'm mostly all talk without much heart. I must work on this.
After contemplative prayer and praying midday prayers with the monks, we went out together to sit at the grave of Thomas Merton. After being startled by the loud church bell above our heads, I went back into the church to pray the Rosary.
This was the first time I'd ever prayed the Rosary really understanding what I was doing...well, as much as one can understand mysteries. Finley's book helped me understand that the mysteries each are meant to bear fruits in prayer and in turn in our lives. I meditated on the joyful mysteries—the Annunciation (humility), the Visitation (love of neighbor), the Nativity (poverty), the Presentation (obedience), and Finding Jesus in the Temple (joy in finding Jesus)—while I prayed. Thinking about the Rosary in terms of "meditating" was helpful for me because it allowed me to think about the fruits of each mystery while petitioning the communion of saints, especially Mary, to pray for us.
After praying through the Rosary once, I prayed it again replacing the mysteries with a more personal time of reflection. Finley includes the example of Lynn Morales, who writes about her practices of praying the Rosary. Following her, I prayed the second time: for family, friends, the men at Riverbend, that my moral character be strengthened, and for our vocations. I thought it was a useful twist on praying the mysteries. ...Of course, I'm still very new to the Rosary, so if you have any advice or insights, I'd appreciate them.
After that, we prayed 2:15 prayers with the monks and started to get ready to leave. We stopped into the visitor's center/book shop, where I bought some cheese.
All in all, it was a great trip. Most importantly, I was able to practice introspection and become aware of places in my life that I need to work on. I spent nearly four straight hours in prayer, and I feel rejuvenated now. And I think the trip was especially good because I got to share the time with four of my friends—four people who are part of my community. We have been created for each other, and sharing ourselves with each other is fulfilling.
Let us bless the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
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