We were all part of a long-standing Bible study, a group of men from divergent congregations, bound by common commitment to Jesus Christ as Lord, and dedicated to “sampling” the monastic life in St. Gregory’s Abbey, a monastery within the Episcopal Church. We thought we knew what we were getting into, and, on one level, we did, but there is a big difference between studying about the monastic experience and actually living it, even for a short period.
To a person, we live busy lives. Some of us are retired, some still employed, but except for the hour or so on Wednesday mornings we are adrift in a world of secular busyness. The experience of fasting, silence, prescriptive reading as a discipline, etc., we may brush up against on rare occasions, but within the confines of the Abbey, those disciplines are part of the daily routine.
Walking onto the Abbey is like entering a small college campus: Beautiful, broad lawns, walkways everywhere, dignified buildings, and a sacred silence. Visitors often out-number the monks. There were six of us visiting when there were six or seven monks and two novices in residence.
For the visitor, there is a sense of freedom, because there is no schedule we must follow, except that which we individually impose on ourselves. Our group had already committed ourselves to following the routine of the Monks as closely as we could; we responded to the tolling of the bells that signaled the seven times of matins or vigils each day, and looked forward to the worship led by the monks, often chanting Psalms. And, of course, the periods of silence.
What did we learn from the experience? For the most part we left our secular lives out in the car. Within the Abbey we were free, we were nothing. No work to do, no calls to make, no pressure to be here or there. The times of silence were a welcomed foreign experience. There was something cleansing, peace-filled, restorative about our time at the Abbey.
In all likelihood, not one of our group would seriously consider a monastic change of life, where “nothingness” has deep meaning and purpose, where emersion in God’s Word is a constant and a given. But, long afterward, there are times of longing to feel that rich ‘nothingness’ again, that blanket of peace. It is a tiny sense of drawing closer to God.
We would do well to borrow small segments of the monastic life. Broaden our times of meditation and thoughtful prayer. The cleansing of our busyness through silence and surrender. All we have to do is be nothing for a while. So be it.
This is what Abbot Andrew writes about Nothing: To appreciate our nothingness, it helps to stop doing things long enough to actually spend time doing nothing. At such moments, we might even notice God filling our empty cup. When Jesus said, he is the vine and we are the branches, he also said that without him we can do nothing. We may protest that we are doing a lot of things and getting a lot of things done, but all these things amount to nothing. When Jesus commands us, as branches connected to the vine, to bear fruit, fruit that will last. That’s quite a lot of something, yet all we have to do is be nothing in his arms. There is nothing to it. Abbey Letter, Summer 2023
NOTE: The continuing existence of Saint Gregory’s is made possible by the support of those who believe that the contemplative vocation within the Church at large finds valid expression. The monks ask for your prayers and are grateful for your offerings.
St. Gregory’s Abbey, 56500 Abbey Road, Three Rivers, Michigan. 49093-9595
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