A retreat with Trappist Monks Brings Peace to a Restless
Heart
Recently, I spent four days with Trappist Monks on retreat
in Iowa. I was in full retreat from the noise of my life including ringing cell
phones, blaring ambulances, and the babble of TVs, radios, and office small
talk. I needed the silence of the monastery.
Trappist monks live in daily retreat from the distractions of the technological rat-race. Wrapped in rough-cut robes and wearing sandals, the members of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance have come to be known as the "Trappists," a name taken from the ancient abbey of La Grande Trappe, whose spiritual descendants are scattered throughout the world in monasteries like this one.
I am accepted as a guest at this Trappist monastery. The monks' daily rhythm of prayer and work will become my guide to enter into a deeper spirit of prayer. There will be three meals a day which I may take in silence or in subdued conversation with others on retreat. The food is simple fare: home-made bread, hearty soups, cooked vegetables and a modest amount of meat.
It happens to be Winter here in Iowa. The cold bites, especially in the morning when I like to take a walk on the monastery grounds. There, skeletons of trees sway in a brisk wind along the dirt path that is hard and icy in spots. Quiet rules here in the back fallow fields of Winter Iowa.
My morning walk is a metaphor for my retreat journey, and for my life's journey. It seems I'm always on the way somewhere.
Trappist monks live in daily retreat from the distractions of the technological rat-race. Wrapped in rough-cut robes and wearing sandals, the members of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance have come to be known as the "Trappists," a name taken from the ancient abbey of La Grande Trappe, whose spiritual descendants are scattered throughout the world in monasteries like this one.
I am accepted as a guest at this Trappist monastery. The monks' daily rhythm of prayer and work will become my guide to enter into a deeper spirit of prayer. There will be three meals a day which I may take in silence or in subdued conversation with others on retreat. The food is simple fare: home-made bread, hearty soups, cooked vegetables and a modest amount of meat.
It happens to be Winter here in Iowa. The cold bites, especially in the morning when I like to take a walk on the monastery grounds. There, skeletons of trees sway in a brisk wind along the dirt path that is hard and icy in spots. Quiet rules here in the back fallow fields of Winter Iowa.
My morning walk is a metaphor for my retreat journey, and for my life's journey. It seems I'm always on the way somewhere.
The chapel looks cold when I walk in. The altar of sacrifice
is way back near the far wall. It's a simple table. The dark wooden stalls of
the Trappist monks face one another across the nave, lined up for choral
recitation of the Divine Office, the monks' prayers for the world prayed at
specific times during the day. Once the monks begin to sing, somehow the whole
place warms up. It feels great and heart-warming to join morning song and
evensong with the chanting monks.
Someone told me recently that he likes cats as pets because they are peaceful. To watch them undulate through their lives effortlessly in your home can bring healing to a harried soul. However, I don't like cats much. I do like monks, though. They bring me peace.
Someone told me recently that he likes cats as pets because they are peaceful. To watch them undulate through their lives effortlessly in your home can bring healing to a harried soul. However, I don't like cats much. I do like monks, though. They bring me peace.
My retreat with the Trappists is over, but I'll be back
again next season. Meanwhile I've taken the monks and the monastery home with
me, here in the midst of the noise of my life.
There's a stillness in me for a while, a place within me
where I want to live. The monks sing and bow there and wake to pray in the
night.
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