[This is the second installment of a series about my experience retreating at St. Andrew's Abbey in Valyermo, California, June 15-19. This retreat was part of one of my graduate school classes titled "Leadership & Community."]
Hi everyone,
I entered my retreat at St. Andrew's Abbey with a lot of assumptions. There are too many to list, but no matter, most of my assumptions had to do with the feeling that monks are untouchable, spiritually superior, or in other words, nothing like me: men, cloistered, Catholic, and just really holy. I was also certain that I would have a difficult time conversing with them because I'm a woman and, you know, sometimes guys who don't hang around females much struggle with it.
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In 1929, the abbey was founded in China by Belgium missionaries. In the early 1970s, the Chinese government tightened its control on all religious activity, effectively forcing out the monks who then moved to its current home in Valyermo, California, albeit without the two Chinese brothers living in their community. China imprisoned them, and nobody had any idea where they were or if they were dead or alive. Tragically, one of these monks died in prison, but after 26 years, the second brother was released and traveled home to California to be reunited with his brothers. This monk is alive and well today. I know so because he is the frail Chinese man who interrupted his own meals to practice hospitality to all of the guests. Even though he has almost no muscles in his arms (I know this because our professor told us so), that didn't keep him from carrying heavy water pitchers and filling up our glasses.
Just hearing the horrific tales of this man's life automatically placed him in my mind as a saint:
how could I possibly relate to him? I found my answer during dinner on the first night. See, all the food is laid out for the guests and monks, including the dessert, which was ice cream on this particular night. Once all of the guests got their food and sat down, the monks then got up to serve themselves. And that's when I saw this frail Chinese man - a man who was tortured and beaten and survived the equivalent of my entire lifetime in a prison - make a beeline past the salad, vegetables, and meat straight towards the dessert station. He opted for several scoops of each flavor so that the ice cream was piled twice as high as the bowl. He then walked back to the table and scarfed down the entire bowl of ice cream. I didn't see him eat much of anything else.
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Later that evening, one of the youngest and newest brothers to the community came to speak with my class. My professor briefed us beforehand that this particular monk had been seeking out a monastic community for several years. Apparently, he had visited several monasteries - even those of eastern religions - before he found St. Andrew's. Automatically, I felt intimidated.
So, the monk sat down to share about monastic life, the Benedictine order, and the history of the Catholic Church. The conversation was quite intellectual, which was something I could roll with, but it didn't quite satisfy our curiosity. Soon, however, our class was given the chance to start asking questions. Mostly, we wanted to know about this young man's story, how he entered the community, and what he had to give up. In due time we learned that he bankrolled his search for a monastic community by a well-paying and meaningful job that allowed him summers off to explore.
He was living back in Los Angeles still uncertain about his future when somebody recommended that he check out St. Andrew's. This monk said that this was the first community he visited that he didn't come in asking the question, "Lord, is this where you want me?" After visiting a few times, it became apparent that this was a community he should start praying about. In the middle of this discernment process, he met a "beautiful" woman, he said.
Perhaps this is what I'm being called to, he thought. As he continued to discern his future, he came to the conclusion that, yes, God was calling him to a marriage, but not marriage with a woman. Instead, the Lord was calling him to marriage to the Lamb. Thus proceeded a most difficult conversation and the beginning of a new community.
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As part of our immersion experience, the brothers set up two afternoons for us to come work with them. This time wasn't so much about the work that got done (though that was important, too), but it was really an opportunity to build deeper relationships among the brothers and students. I volunteered to weed the garden because I thought it would be a great time to be outside and do some mindless activity while speaking with the monk. Along with another student, we spent an hour and a half under the blazing sun asking him all kinds of questions regarding monk life. He was very generous and answered all of our questions. One thing he mentioned was that the brothers are no different than you or me. They have all kinds of petty issues with each other, balk when another brother receives special treatment (at least in their minds), and like to gossip. Their community was beginning to sound quite familiar.
Another question we had was about how much time he spent in the "outside world." He told us that he visits his family for 10-14 days a year, but he's "often ready to come home after seven." I was surprised to hear that he talks with his family at least three times a month, has his own laptop, and is on Facebook. Speaking of the media, the monk shared with us what he happened to see while flipping through television channels during his stay at a hotel last month. (He was officiating a wedding.) While shaking his head, he told us about the reality show that tells the story of two parents who live in the Hamptons while their two high schoolers live and go to school all alone in New York City. I'm guessing he was watching MTV.
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And regarding my assumption that these men can't carry on a conversation with women? I was dead wrong. There was not one monk who couldn't talk with me. In fact, they were often the ones initiating the conversations. And the conversations weren't necessarily about spiritual things. For instance, after I caught him staring at me, one young monk approached me to ask about my nationality (which explained all the staring.) Yet, I hesitated as I was sure he was going to offer to "bless" me or something. (Plus, he was quite attractive. Hmm, maybe I'm the one who struggles being around the opposite sex...). In no time, however, I recovered, and we ended up talking for a few minutes.
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These monks really are normal. They all desire love, need community, love beauty, are broken, see themselves on a journey admitting they really haven't figured out much, make difficult sacrifices, harbor their own vices, know suffering, and enjoy people. Though I may not relate to their specific call, I can relate to all these things.
A.
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