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View from the Pew  Mary Adamski |
Glenstal Abbey lives up
to expectationsRetreat to a Benedictine monastery in Ireland -- what could be a more Catholic experience than that?
For a fan of the Ellis Peters "Brother Cadfael" mysteries, the invitation to stay at Glenstal Abbey guest house in County Limerick raised anticipation of a step back into the medieval church, somber ritual and -- food for the Irish soul -- some suffering in the form of cold stone church, hard bed and short rations.
But to reflect on the brief monastic experience this summer brings comparisons and at least small steps toward understanding Muslims at prayer, Buddhists in meditation, the Druid reverence for primeval forest and a new eye for icons, the Orthodox Christian art form that has always left me cold. I'm still working on a more esoteric ecumenism lesson involving finding a Christian message in the dark fortunetelling art of tarot cards.
The 1838 stone mansion-fortress that was taken over by the religious order in 1927 lived up to expectations. A first step into the dim, pillared library in the boys' school that occupies one wing brought a unanimous exclamation of "Hogwarts" from my traveling companions. No one was too disappointed to miss pallets in a dormitory hostel, as we found private rooms with new furniture, private baths, warm quilts and common areas with an electric appliance array for do-it-yourself breakfast. The younger generation was astounded to find no television or other electronics on the premises. We were gently reminded that others in the house were seeking "a private corner for reflection and for prayer."
Our one invitation into the monks' residence was for early supper, eaten in silence while one monk read aloud not the religious text we might expect, but a truly tedious analysis of the Boer War. Italian seasoning enlivened the vegetable stew, made of produce from the monastery farm. To find the ale that Brother Cadfael sipped, we had to go elsewhere.
The peak monastic experience for visitors was the music. Pure and clear, chanting psalms and prayers in harmony, with no amplification and little musical accompaniment, the monks addressed God in a manner as vibrant as the brilliant red, green and blue patterns on the ceiling. Very old and very new -- CDs produced at Glenstal always hit the top of the charts in Ireland. I've done my best to share the joyous music with my Palolo neighbors.
Benedictines observe the "liturgy of hours," gathering for five set times of prayer each day, just as Mohammed established as a pillar of Islam. When the bell rings, it is time to turn from farming, cooking, writing, teaching and other worldly chores and enter spiritual space.
Monks and civilians stay on in silence for hours. It's not a chat room; to cough or kick a kneeler seemed a breach of others' privacy. But, as a monk explained later, meditation is not meant to be an escape. We speak to God fully aware of the reality we occupy, including sounds, smells and cold drafts. Silence helps us to hear Him, said Father Ambrose.
It reminded me of a Zen Center experience, when it took hours to stop thinking, fidgeting, counting breaths and just be empty. Only then can there be enlightenment. I think of both concepts when I hear the Buddhist temple gong sound up the hill.
Brother Anthony is the woodsman at Glenstal, and when he introduced us to centuries-old trees on the 500-acre grounds, I imagined stepping in footsteps of the pre-Christian religious who found God in nature. When snapshots taken inside the deep woods all turned out deep black, it triggered an old pagan gene, and my hair stood on end.
Brother Anthony assumed a whole different persona when he guided us into an underground climate-controlled and artfully lit room where a treasure of Russian religious icons are displayed.
Like the library of ancient documents visited by scholars, the trove is usually off-limits to casual guests. Gilded and with static poses and prescribed symbolism, iconography isn't exciting. Until, says Anthony, you look into the eyes of the depicted Christ. And find He is looking into yours. It is a dark Semitic visage, believed to be a copy of a copy of a copy of an image drawn by a Christian artist a couple of centuries after Jesus died.
Providing hospitality is part of the rule of founder St. Benedict. Our host Malachy Glynn said a clue to the spacious comfort of the Glenstal guest house is that it is a site of gatherings much more prestigious than our band of travelers. Two weeks later, Protestant and Catholic participants gathered for the 40th Glenstal ecumenical conference, the topic this time being "Love, Sexuality and Friendship."
Work is also part of the Benedictine rule. The monks are farmers, teachers and artists, and quite a few are authors of music and books. Prominent among the products on sale in the Abbey shop was the recent book by Brother Mark Patrick Hederman entitled "Tarot, Talisman or Taboo?" What's this doing in a Catholic context? we wondered.
Hederman has taken some heat along those lines in reviews in the country. The tarot cards, which have become a tool of fortunetellers, are not evil, but are morally neutral, says the monk who teaches philosophy.
In lectures on the same subject, he has said that the images that supposedly predict one's future can be seen as Christian in origin. He provides meditations to use them as steps along a spiritual path.
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Mary Adamski covers religion for the Star-Bulletin.
Email her at madamski@starbulletin.com.
