On Labels

by Elena Coe

We are a couple classes into our program now, and we've begun to discuss what it means to be a monk. After all, we're all here to learn about being more monk-like, so it only makes sense to work out some kind of defining factors. Right?

Given the huge scope of mysticism and monastic life throughout religions and cultures, it is hard to specify too many particulars about what a monk does. But ultimately, the overarching defining factor of monastic devotion seems to be this: to seek relationship with god/the transcendent above all else. There are certainly elements of prayer, obedience, love, and humility that generally accompany that journey towards enlightenment or eternal life, but the primary motivation for those behaviors truly makes the difference.

This all gets me to wondering, however, about intentionality versus action. On the one hand, I could argue that anyone whose intention is to seek God above all else and self-defines as a monk is, in fact, a monk. The success of their journey may not matter much if we define the monk by the act of seeking rather than by the outcomes of the search. If that's the case, then could someone call themselves a monk even if they lived in ways most people would not define as monastic? Should people who are not practiced in righteousness and love still gain the title of being a monk simply because they make efforts to do so? And more importantly, what then separates a 'normal' pious or conscious person from a monk?

To me, as an artist and writer, I've often struggled with a similar problem of defining identity. What is a writer, after all? It is simply someone who writes? How much do you have to write to fall into the category of 'a writer'? Every day? Do you have to be published? Do you have to be good? Can I simply call myself a writer because I have the intention and skill to write?

Personally, I've come to my own conclusion that self-identification matters more than what categories the outer world places me in. With that in mind, I choose to make the distinction based on what I believe feeds my spirit and makes me feel more like myself. Being a writer fits me. I don't have to write every day or be published to know that I will always love to write and that the action of writing is an integral part of who I am.

As for monasticism... I don't know that I'm confident enough yet in my own definition of what a monk is to truly know whether I feel like one. Maybe the label is intimidating me because of all its broader connotations and historical associations. I remember when I was afraid to call myself a writer because I felt it was presumptuous. Eventually, I overcame that fear because I came to sense writing as an process instead of a destination. Intellectually, I believe the same thing about monasticism. So, perhaps it is only a matter of time before I realize that I can be more than a writer, a singer, an artist, a sister, a daughter, a student, a friend... But that I can also be a monk.

Another Batch in the Oven

by Elena Coe

Welcome to a new year of the long-term Monastic Immersion Experience! The nine-month program for 2013-2014 has three participants, and we are finally all here together at the Monastery of St. Gertrude, beginning our work, prayer, and classes. In other words, the ingredients have all come together into ooey-gooey delicious dough, and now we're popping into the oven. Who knows how it will all turn out, right? (I'm guessing pretty good.)

This blog is meant to be a place for the three of us to divulge our thoughts and experiences while in the program, and I hope that you may find some of it interesting. I feel like giving a little disclaimer about my personal faith journey might be prudent, since much of this blog will consist of musings and questions that will make a lot more sense in the context of my life. So, if you’re interested, please, read on!

Growing up in a non-religious household, I was never one to actively seek out church. My mom would sometimes take us to various protestant churches, but those events were so rare that I suspect I could tell you about each one. I never particularly disliked church—I especially enjoyed the goodies that were provided in the lobby out front after the service—but I never looked forward to it either. So when I found myself surrounded by religious friends in high school, I began to wonder what I might have been missing out on. There seemed to be such a comfort in the community of church, the ritual of prayer, and the love that often emanated from religious people. Intellectually, I still didn’t agree with religion, but I began to be fascinated by it.

When I was deciding on a university, my first impulse was to rule out religiously-affiliated schools entirely, convinced that I would be judged and left out by a community so focused on something I wasn’t a part of. But somehow, through a combination of serendipity and practicality, I ended up deciding to attend Seattle University, a Jesuit school in Seattle’s hippest neighborhood, Capitol Hill. Admittedly, as far as Catholic schools go, Seattle U is not strict about its religious aspects. In fact, the faith of my school became one of my favorite things to talk about because it was so incredibly open-minded and open-ended in its practice. I began to see faith and spirituality differently through the variety of expressions I witnessed every day on my campus. Singing choral music, in particular, brought me closer to religion than I had ever been before. Additionally, working on retreats through my campus ministry gave me an increasingly vivid idea of the potential of my own spirituality. But still, I didn’t consider becoming Catholic—or any religion. And, I still rarely attended any church services.

So when it came time for me to decide what to do after college, with a double major in English and Digital Design and very little certainty about how I wanted to “set the world on fire” (thanks, Jesuits), I found myself called to a period of exploration.

Exploration can, of course, mean a lot of different things, and there are certainly a multitude of areas I want to explore while I’m young, able-bodied, and relatively free-spirited. But after finding the Monastic Immersion Experience and considering it for a year, I felt like my spiritual journey might be the perfect first step in this exploratory time. If faith could be my rock, as it is for so many, I would rather start to find my footing before venturing out into the rest of my exploration. I also knew I could use some healing and refocusing after the crazy whirlwind that is the urban college student experience.

Now, I’m almost a month into my stay at the Monastery of St. Gertrude, and I am already learning and experiencing beautiful things. Given how much I do not know, I am not surprised. So, go easy on me. I am sure to mix up terms once or twice, and I most certainly will come to conclusions that millions of people have already reached. But, my hope is that I may be able to express my unique journey in a way that inspires or touches even those who have long since walked the road I’ve just started.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Epilogue

So what have I learned? After nine months of living, praying, and working at a monastery, what does it all mean?

Was it worth it?

To answer all of these questions, it may be best to start at the beginning. By beginning I mean the application that I sent to Sr. Teresa to apply for the monastic immersion program. I found the file again through my work, and it has been interesting listening to my self from one year ago and saying, “Ha, if only you knew what was coming!” One of the most important pieces looking at my application today was when I was asked to describe my greatest hope for my volunteer experience (in twenty words or less). I wrote, “To be confident in myself as well as my relationship with God, spending time in silence and prayer.” Well friends, I have spent more time in silence than I would have liked and lots of time in prayer, but what is more striking to me is the first part of my hope, that I was looking for self-confidence and to feel secure in my relationship with God.

In reflecting on my experience, self-confidence occurred almost immediately. The first few days after my arrival left me unexpectedly anxious. I was terribly nervous and unsure of how to act, what to wear, or where to go. Living among 40 women much older than I made me feel a bit like an alien from another planet, and suddenly I did not know what was “acceptable.”

Suddenly, a voice of reason.

I arrived in the midst of an artist-in-residence program and as a birthday treat they invited me to come with them to Taco Tuesday at the local Pub & Grub (no trip to the Monastery is complete without such a visit). Over drinks and tacos, one of the artists told me, “You know, it’s so great that you can just be yourself here.” Immediately, my fears vanished. She was right. I could and can only be myself; I cannot be anyone else. I can only be Sarah in all my multi-faceted, sparkling, fluorescent self. I vowed then to be completely myself, and if there were problems with that, I would deal with them when they happened.

There were problems.

While I felt much, much better by being myself, not everyone was pleased at my presence here at the monastery. It was as much a growing experience for me being here as it was for the sisters, some of whom more than once have shushed me if I have gotten “out of hand.” There has been frequent confusion over which rooms I can and cannot go in. There are many comments about my youthful energy as constantly run up and down the stairs, and I am sure no one will miss my incessant “flip-flop, flip-flop” up and down the halls. Nevertheless through it all, I have continuously reflected on my behavior and actions. If there is something I did that was inappropriate or unacceptable, then I would apologize. If I have behaved respectfully and courteously, then this helps me to see my boundaries. What is my stuff and what is someone else’s has been a recurring theme for me, and I have had much practice noting when I am projecting onto others and when someone else is projecting onto me.

To return to my original hope for my volunteer experience, I also hoped “for greater confidence in my relationship with God.” What a strange thing to hope for, in retrospect. My relationship with God is even more complicated and my spirituality has undergone great change. The most notable change occurred when I was assisting Sr. Teresa during a retreat. While much of the information she was sharing I had already heard countless times because of various classes, one part was brand-new: Balance. While the struggle for balance has been a theme in my life for many years, this was my first time truly looking at what balance means to me. We went through ideas of Benedictine balance (not very balanced), balance as most people would like it (each commitment being equal to every other commitment), and the new balance (not the shoe brand). Teresa’s slide for The New Balance asked just three questions:

Is God part of your life or is God your life?

Is prayer something you do or is prayer an attitude of life?

Is faith what you believe or how you live your life?

In these three questions, my spirituality and understanding of my faith has exploded into a realm of possibility. Moving beyond compartmentalizing, these questions have invited me to do what I already knew: to live fully and completely as I am. I am living my faith by being fully who I am, aware of God’s permeation in everything and everyone, and living in gratefulness and thanksgiving.

Now, while this all sounds interesting, this in no way means that I can definitively say, “Yes, I do that.” I cannot honestly say that God is my life, my attitude is prayer, or that I am truly living my faith always.

But I’m trying.

This is my faith journey, to strive towards these understandings of God, prayer, and faith as my life. Will I ever get there? Perhaps not, but that hardly seems to be the point.

There is a story of an elder monk who is asked by a novice, “So what is it you all do here at the monastery?” The elder monk replies, “We fall down, and we get up. We fall down, and we get up.” The point, in my opinion, is that I continue to get up and try again.

It seems apropos that I end my blog with the same idea that started it: peering beyond my prayer book. Over time, my curiosity has drifted from the people… to a leaf. From where I sit, there is a single leaf that can be seen, presumably attached to a creeping vine. Every prayer time I check to see if my leaf is still there, and through everything, even the craziest weather (like hail and snow in May), the leaf is still there. Over time, I have come to realize that I identify myself with that leaf. At times when I am ready to leave because of the latest ridiculous event, I find myself hoping that the leaf will fly away, away from here and free to soar. At other times, I find myself hoping the leaf will still be there, firmly rooted and connected at a time when I especially need my own rooted and groundedness. One such time occurred at the demise of one of the sisters. Maybe the tenacity of my leaf reflects my own tenacity. I was asked once in the midst of a very difficult time why I stayed. After thinking briefly, I responded that I had made a commitment. I committed to my time here at the Monastery, and I felt that there was still more for me to learn here.

There have been days that I feel like I am living in the middle of “Freaking-Cottonwood- Idaho,” but then there are other days that I am struck by something beautiful that it puts me at a loss for words. Some days I am being told off about something I did or did not do and other days I am laughing over a great story someone told. There have been days that I felt utterly alone and days that I felt perfectly at ease. Through all the drama, chaos, homesickness (mine, not theirs) and menopause (theirs, not mine), something has really changed in me.

Some soul work has truly occurred, and I am so much happier for it.

I have experienced quite a lot of awe-inspiring events over the last few months. Some I was excited to witness, such as Sr. Katie making her solemn profession or a new affiliate and oblates. Some events I would have rather not experienced, namely the funerals of Sr. Mary Bernard and Sr. Emagene. When people ask me how my time has been, my first response has always been, “It’s been an adventure!” In more ways than I can name, it truly has been an adventure, equivalent in my mind to the great life-changing adventures heard about in stories. Yet unlike those tales, this adventure is but one of many and this story is not over yet.

Thanks everyone!

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Getting to Know the Kelleys

Two of the people most dedicated and devoted to the Monastery of St. Gertrude are not vowed Benedictine sisters, but are instead a married couple living nearby. Fred and Jeannette Kelley have devoted themselves to continuously volunteering and serving at the Monastery in every way they can. While they might seem like an unlikely pair from looking at them, the love they have for each other is clearly evident, and just as evident is their love for the community at the Monastery of St. Gertrude.

Sr. Teresa and Jeannette

Originally introduced to many of the sisters through church programs, they eventually became oblates, two of the first eight to ever do so with this community. An oblate is a lay member of the community who follows the Rule of St. Benedict insofar as their state in life allows including men or women, married or single. Over time, Benedictine spirituality became even more entrenched in their lives and thus, when the time came to retire, moving to Cottonwood to be closer to the Monastery became the logical choice. Since then Fred is a regular volunteer at the Historical Museum on campus and enjoys helping the kitchen staff by washing pots and pans (which I can attest is also a tremendous help to everyone else). Jeannette can be regularly found answering the phone and listening intently to everyone who needs her. She also co-coordinates the Oblate community with Sr. Teresa Jackson, a job that never seems to slow. In these ways and more, the Kelleys are giving back to a community that gives them so much.

Sr. Mary and Fred

Fred at one point when we were talking remarked that he always wanted a sister. Today he has about 50 of them through the relationships he has found here. Jeannette too has appreciated being with the sisters and feels hopeful about the future of the community. The oblate community will also help further the monastery, creating a foundation of support for the sisters' future. Maybe other oblates will follow suit, move nearby and assist like the Kelleys have done. Indeed, stranger things have occurred because of the “Benedictine magnetism” as Fred describes it. For Jeannette, the prayer and spiritual support from both the monastery and the oblates has become her favorite aspect of her involvement.

For myself, I have met many of the oblates, and have come to know how great they are as a group and as individuals. Because of this, I am categorically interested in my own potential commitment to a community someday. Being a vowed religious does not seem to be the call for me, but the possibility of living completely as I am and living my faith in the best way that I can (as the oblates do) seems to be the invitation for me.

The ultimate test of a place, in my opinion, is through the image of roots. The Kelleys have found such deep roots in Cottonwood and at the Monastery that they could not imagine being anywhere else. As I reflect on my time here as it comes to a close, I know they are right. If I had this year to live over, I cannot imagine being anywhere else.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Talking with Sr. Teresa

When I first considered coming to Idaho after living on the East coast my entire life, I began polling everyone I knew by asking them, “What’s in Idaho?” All I knew was that there was a Benedictine monastery named the Monastery of St. Gertrude, and one of the sisters there was a Sr. Teresa. She quickly became Sr. Teresa of Idaho, in order for me to distinguish her from a Sr. Theresa that I worked with, and thus became the first of many of the St. Gertrude community to receive a nickname from me. While the process of a ten-month monastic immersion has certainly been a learning experience for both of us, it became important to me to understand what Teresa does other than answering my incessant, random questions.

Upon her entrance to the Monastery, Teresa began working with the retreat ministry, later becoming involved with the oblate community. Over time, she has also become the director for vocations as well as for live-in volunteers, eventually becoming known as the membership director. The title of membership director seems less specific, which is precisely for this reason that Teresa favors it. Membership, according to Teresa, can be a vocations interest as a vowed religious sister, but it also includes the oblates, volunteers, and monastic immersioners. This allows for her to listen more deeply to where each individual might feel the most at home in regards to all the different possibilities. Of course, her experience as a spiritual director also plays a big part in this process. This can be the best and most challenging aspect of her job. Teresa’s favorite part of all that she does is getting to know people on their spiritual journeys, listening and sharing knowledge at a depth that is rare in most other situations. This same aspect however, can provide a great challenge for Teresa. If, in the listening, it seems for any number of reasons that it will not be a good fit for someone to come to the Monastery, she is then challenged to articulate this understanding to the person, a task often easier said than done. Nevertheless, Teresa continues her work to attract solid, healthy and committed members of all kinds, for her belief is that these members will be the future. Religious life of all kinds is dwindling, as is most clearly evident with the numerous shortages of priests as of late. Vocations are not what they used to be, and the growth of any community will require an acceptance of nontraditional members. In this time of transition, Teresa is hopeful for what will come in the future, but it will take creativity and transformation for a bright future to occur.

Enjoying a well deserved milkshake break with some volunteers
(Sr. Teresa is on the left side, center)

Teresa is most certainly undergoing her own transformation as a part of the community at the Monastery of St. Gertrude. By giving up her autonomy, she has become transformed from an “I” to a “we;” from being “alone” to being “all of us.” The community, as she describes it, allows her to do more and become more than she ever could on her own. A naturally quiet and solitary person, the challenges of living with so many people do arise often, and it is through reflection that the transformation occurs for Sr. Teresa to be in her own words, “remade in the image of Christ.”

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Conversing with Krista Green

“Change is good.” How many can actually say this sentence honestly, without sarcasm or clenched teeth? I know that in my own life, the changes that have occurred have been necessary and ultimately good for me, but that does not help me in the midst of the transition, when all I want is to curl up under the covers in my bed and wait for it all to be over. When those days occur, I look to one person here in particular: Krista Green, one of two lay employees working at Spirit Center.

After moving back to her hometown of Grangeville, Krista was contacted by Mary Schmidt, the administrator of Spirit Center. Mary was in need of an assistant, and because of Krista’s previous work experience, she thought Krista was exactly the person for the job. Because she loves to support others, Krista has truly found her niche at the Spirit Center by taking care of the tedious and yet necessary tasks that need to be done. Some examples of this work would be proofreading and taking care of the never ending mailings. One of her primary responsibilities is marketing and she is considered the main writer and photographer for the retreat facility. She also maintains Spirit Center’s Facebook presence. In these ways and more, she truly embodies Benedictine hospitality, helping everyone to feel “warm and fuzzy.” In my own experience, I have gone to Krista more than once about my latest conundrum, ultimately resulting in some of the most profound conversations I have ever had, and I certainly feel warm and fuzzy by being near her.

As the future of the Monastery of St. Gertrude becomes even more uncertain with dwindling vocations, employees and volunteers will be even more critical in the daily functioning of monastic life. Krista has truly felt blessed by her work with the Benedictine community here at St. Gertrude’s, feeling part of the communal mission in making the world a better place. One special gift she brings to this community is her perspective from outside the monastery. Although not a Benedictine sister, Krista has implemented many aspects of the Benedictine way to her own life. She has been affected by her work, and lives a richer and simpler life because of it. As it says in a quote posted on her office wall, “It’s never too late to become a better version of yourself,” and this is the challenge Krista tries to meet every day, and her actions encourage me to see in what ways I too can “become a better version of myself.”

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Sitting with Sr. Sue Ellen

While I was assisting with a retreat this past week, when referring to my help and support the mantra became: “Everyone needs a Sarah!” When reflecting on Sr. Sue Ellen, it seems that this statement still applies – everyone needs a Sue Ellen. Assisting nearly everyone in one way or another, this Benedictine sister helps everything to run smoothly. After retiring from teaching catechism, Sue Ellen was asked to assist in a multitude of areas, most notably with administration and in the development office. Through these two areas, she keeps track of all the birthdays, anniversaries, and other important events and keeps everyone informed of various announcements. Outside of these areas, Sue Ellen helps in the book store and serves on various committees, one of which focuses on relationships with extended members (oblates, benefactors, monastery friends, etc.). Most certainly, maintaining relationships with everyone in these ways is one demonstration of hospitality, a key value of Benedictine spirituality. It is no surprise to me that Sue Ellen is so intimately connected with people after saying that the development office contains her most and least favorite jobs, her favorite simply being the life that the development office has with its remarkable staff. Her least favorite? Sealing envelopes.

Sue Ellen has gained much through being part of this monastic community. She speaks fondly of a time when she was growing up and she prayed to have a sister. “Boy, was my prayer answered!” she says with a laugh. Her religious sisters have become her family, and though not without challenges, she has grown in love for her sisters, inheriting numerous “in-laws,” as she describes the families of the other sisters. While this is a good life to live, there is very real concern about where this community will be in five or ten years. When confronted with this question, Sue Ellen imagines this community will look very different, shifting towards more collaborative effort in conjunction with volunteers and oblates. There is a desire for spirituality, Sue Ellen says, but it does not seem to be lived in the same way as in the past. Some of the sisters here speak of entering the monastery at the very young age of 13 with a dozen or so other girls. In more recent years, however, vocations have slowed down significantly to barely a trickle, suggestive of our shifting world. It is now in times of such uncertainty that the relationships that Sue Ellen diligently maintains becomes of the utmost importance.

Today we celebrate Palm Sunday, during which the Gospel tells of Jesus’ passion and death. Recently I was struck by Simon’s role to help Jesus carry his cross, even at times carrying it for him. This relationship is, in my opinion, what we are all asked to do. Not only are we are responsible for carrying our own crosses, but now and then we are asked to help someone else with their cross. We are challenged to help the most vulnerable of our society, coming together as a global family; brothers and sisters in Christ, if you will. I believe that Sue Ellen has tapped into a fundamental idea in our world: that we all are asked to assist one another. We are not only helping with things that have fallen through the cracks, but we are working together to reunite our world so that there are no longer any cracks, no more separation or division. And one way to do so, as Sr. Sue Ellen demonstrates, is simply by staying connected; staying in touch.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: The Call

There are certainly no prairies in New York.

Over the course of my time here at the Monastery of St. Gertrude’s, I have repeatedly heard that to seek God alone above all else is a call to monasticism. While I have spent time pondering this thought, I have also been in the process of applying to graduate schools, not for anything based in religion or theology but instead for musicology. How is it that a prospective music professor from Upstate New York ends up at a monastery in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles away from her friends and family? The only answer I can honestly give is that I was called. I do not mean that God or anything like that picked up the telephone, dialed my number, and left me a voicemail saying that I should go to Idaho; nothing quite that dramatic. I do, however, believe there is something that draws you, me, and all of us to certain things in our lives. That may be the voice of God, but in more secular terms, I believe it is simply this desire to be part of something greater than our selves.

What sparked this idea for me originally came from answering the question of why I was here. Many guests I have met have asked if I am interested in becoming a nun. While evidence would make this a logical conclusion, I find myself firmly saying, “No.” When reflecting on my reasoning, why I don’t want to be a nun, it seems that as much as there is a call to religious life, so do I feel called away from religious life. The call, for me, is to something else, somewhere else.

Maybe I'm called to live in the bustling city of Denver

This concept of the call was confirmed for me during a recent trip to Denver. One opportunity I had while there was to visit a potential school and meet the musicology faculty. After giving the “nutshell” version of what I have been doing since my undergraduate graduation, one of the professors commented about how the call to musicology seems similar to the call to monasticism. Immediately, the parallel use of “the call” resonated with me, attesting to the truth of the draw for each of us as individuals. What draws me to musicology, I believe, is the same draw to religious life; the same draw that an allergist, a mechanic, a trapeze artist, a zookeeper, etc. all feel towards their ultimate career goals. When I brought up this subject with a friend, he reminded me that this call is not limited to career choice. We are called in our lives, throughout our whole life. I can speak to my own experience of the call I felt at different points in my life. As a child, my call was to do well in school, respect my parents, and play nice with my brother and sister. My college career was answering the call to study music. After college, I felt called to a year of service, and now I have been called here to Cottonwood, ID. My friends have been called to other things, such as the armed forces, marriage, or parenthood. We are all responding to this call in whatever ways we can, ultimately answering the call of God or whatever higher power to live fully; to truly become who we already are.

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, / I took the one less traveled by, / and that has made all the difference." - from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken"

So this time I leave you with a question (or several questions). What is your call? Where and to what are you being called? How are you answering your call?

A post-script thought: The last time I saw my boyfriend, when he was handing me my things, he slipped me a card that said, “Through you, God’s love is shown.” Maybe I really am seeking God above all else.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: A Day in the Life with Sr. Carlotta Maria

 In Dr. Seuss’s book, The Lorax, the main character is advised that, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” The story itself is a cautionary tale against greed and selfishness, and an invitation to care for all of creation. It is this care of creation that is exactly what Sr. Carlotta is doing here at the Monastery of St. Gertrude.

A bird's eye view of Sr. Carlotta's handiwork

No matter what time of the year it is, Carlotta cares for many examples of creation in the monastery and on the grounds. At this time, her day begins early with shoveling and snow blowing the many paths and driveways around the Monastery. In other seasons, Carlotta will spend many hours tending to the gardens and the bounty that is produced. Throughout the year, she also takes part in maintaining and assisting with the numerous computers and televisions, and has also taken on the responsibility of creating the Nature’s Gifts products. Originally, Carlotta assisted Sr. Theresa Dvorak with the Nature’s Gifts line and now is the primary producer of the items that are available in the gift shop. Carlotta’s work with Nature’s Gifts has become her favorite job, keeping her busy all year long with production and teaching classes and retreats. Carlotta has reconnected with her love of the Earth in many ways here, and even if it means pulling a few (or a lot of) weeds, her effort is beneficial to us all.

Sr. Carlotta hard at work making more Healing Salve

While Carlotta has gained many things by being here at the Monastery of St. Gertrude, she has found it difficult to be away from her family. Nevertheless, the impact that she has on the community and guests is undeniable, and people have returned speaking of the difference she had made. Indeed, even the smallest gesture has had enormous influence, and I can certainly attest to this. One day while wandering the hill behind the Monastery building, Carlotta came across me and showed me some of her paths. Later she would speak of her time on the hill as renewing, and I believe that is what I experienced with her that day: a renewal from a shared appreciation of the splendor of creation. 

Being part of this monastic community has encouraged Carlotta to continue to grow and care for herself as well. This has included healthier eating habits and uncovering some hidden skills and talents, such as an interest in painting with watercolors. Eventually, she hopes to give back by creating a children’s book. Carlotta is also forward thinking in her perspective of where her ministries can go in the future. Essentially, Carlotta hopes to see more of everything in the future: more people, more retreats, more Nature’s Gifts products, and a wider variety of produce in the gardens. None of these expansions will be possible without help, however, such as the currently unanswered prayer of topsoil for the gardens. Together, we can all help to care for one another and all of creation. In our own ways, we are all invited to “care a whole awful lot,” in order to make our world a better place. The best way, in my opinion, is to start right here, wherever we are. For Sr. Carlotta, that is right here on these grounds at the Monastery of St. Gertrude in Cottonwood, Idaho.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: A Day in the Life of Sr. Katie at the Spirit Center

Spirit Center

When Sr. Katie came to the Monastery of St. Gertrude, it seemed a natural fit that she would work with retreatants. In her previous life before St. Gertrude’s, Katie fulfilled her dream with her husband to open a mom and pop resort, where they also lived on the premises. Eventually the skills of hospitality and scheduling learned over the course of her life would become an essential part of Katie’s ministry at the Spirit Center, a facility designed for hosting retreats of all kinds.

Benedictine hospitality is very much alive and well here at the monastery, where most of the ministries are designed specifically to be hospitable and welcoming to anyone who should come. At one time, when this place was barely a distant thought, there was a need for teachers, nurses, and being very much a part of the community at large. The founding sisters that traveled from the Switzerland community answered this call, working where they were needed. Even when the Monastery of St. Gertrude was created, much work was done away from the building itself, expanding to include surrounding areas and even Colombia. Nowadays, there seems to be a greater desire for hospitality, to come away and find yourself again in the peace and rhythm of the Monastery of St. Gertrude. The need for the time and space that this community has to offer is so great that people have come from all across the country to find it (myself very much included). While there are several sisters that do minister away from the community, this place continues to be a steadfast center, open and welcoming to everyone. It is the people themselves who offer the greatest hospitality, Katie being a wonderful example. Her favorite, and the most rewarding part of her job is to be with people. It seems Benedictine hospitality existed in Katie long before she ever considered religious life.

Sr. Katie hard at work

When I asked Katie what she was responsible for at the Spirit Center, it was quickly understood that she is intimately involved with all aspects of running this retreat center. If you were to see her at work, you might find her sitting at her desk in front of her computer and on the phone with someone interested in making a retreat. Being dedicated to working with people, Katie continuously tries to meet each individual or group with their particular needs. You also might have a hard time seeing Katie, for when she is not at her desk, she is continuously bustling throughout the building taking care of or delegating any problems that have arisen (sometimes even on her day off).

For the future of the Spirit Center, Katie plans to continue to serve people with hospitality, including the gift of spiritual direction at reasonable costs. The Spirit Center, as Katie sees it, has so much to offer: space, time, quiet (if desired), the healing center, beautiful scenery, and much more, and above all, more hospitality than anywhere else she has been. Considering the work she has done over the years, this is saying something!       

After reflecting on my conversation with Katie, I was reminded of the song that says, “People, people who need people, are the luckiest people in the world.” I have certainly been a person who needs people and such that Katie has been a wonderful blessing for me, one recent example being the alteration of her travel plans to accommodate my own plans. This one example is a glimpse into the depth of Katie’s compassion and something that I try to emulate as best as I can. Katie has answered her call of ministry quite literally, yet she serves as a reminder to all of us of the importance of a warm welcome. I cannot fathom Katie working in any other capacity, and we are all incredibly lucky and blessed by her desire to serve God in this way.

Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: The Daily Routine at the Monastery of St. Gertrude

Always something new scheduled on our many bulletin boards

The times and activities can be seen on any of the weekly schedules (always with some inevitable variation). The schedule exists, however, not for it’s own sake, but with the continuous call to something greater.

7:30 – Breakfast

Each day begins with breakfast in silence. Even for me as a morning person, this is such a wonderful start to the day. While I may have been awake and already gotten ready for the day, it is a joy to eat quietly knowing that I will not become intellectually comatose from being socially obligated to chitchat. It should also be noted that, “The Great Silence,” is respected from 9pm to 9am each day. This means, as one might expect, that talking and noise is kept to a minimum, and one is likely to be left alone until after Morning Praise. This slow yet methodical start helps ease me into the day, setting the pace for the rest of the day as productive and deliberate, without a frenetic energy.

 8:30 – Morning Praise

Each prayer begins with a series of chimes and bells, gently calling all to prayer. The essential feature of this call to prayer is that it comes ten minutes before the start time, allowing ample time for everyone to arrive calmly, ready to pray rather than skidding in at the last minute, frenzied and distracted. There is one other benefit to arriving sooner rather than later, for if one is sitting quietly before prayer begins, one might notice the special quiet that emerges as people have settled. The feeling of a unified calm yet expectant anticipation becomes apparent from within the quiet, awaiting the transformation of our individual prayers becoming communal. No longer does the individual exists within or even as the self, but there is a merging and melding together, creating a greater whole. I can only describe this experience as truly becoming “one body,” for our prayers are for the whole world, honoring and giving voice to all.

The literal call to prayer, using the speakerphone

11:30 – Eucharist, Dinner

After morning praise, everyone attends to their work and responsibilities, stopping when the bells again call us to prayer. As Sr. Teresa Jackson has said in one of her explanations of the daily schedule, “Prayer doesn’t interrupt work. Work interrupts prayer.” I try to remember this phrase as I grumble to myself about never seeming to have enough time to finish any of my tasks when I would like. Then I remember that there is a time and a place for everything, and right now, it is time to pray. Everything else can wait; it will be there when I return.

What I find remarkable in this celebration of Eucharist is the ways in which the community interacts. I see a surprising tenderness from the Eucharistic Ministers, heartfelt signs of peace, and a dedication to each member by ensuring that everyone will be able to come and go from Mass. This dedication entails that several sisters help guide the sisters of the Sunshine Wing (also known as the infirmary) back to their rooms. This is how I see the Gospel lived out – through these small gestures that reveal Christ in each of us. When I worked at St. Francis Inn, a soup kitchen in Philadelphia, there was a sign on the inside of the main door. It was rather faded, and looked as if it had been there for years (and is still there today), but the message was and is still as clear as ever: Under a smiling face was written, “SMILE, Jesus is at the door.”  - a constant reminder of the respect, kindness, and humility with which everyone deserves to be treated. It seems that, even over 2,000 miles away, this message is clearly active here as well.

I am not surprised that our main spiritual meal is directly followed by our main physical meal of the day. It would be as if the rest of the day was wiped away and if our entire day existed in just these few hours, it would be enough. Life would have meaning, purpose, and practical sustenance. To further emphasize this point, dinner begins and ends with grace and thanksgiving for what we have. Our actions in prayer would sustain our lives to attain physical nourishment, which would feed us enough to continue to pray, and in this way can we change the world.

5:00 – Evening Prayer, Supper

Again the bell calls us to prayer. I thought I would escape such an authority once I graduated high school, and yet here again do I find myself spurred into movement by another bell. This time, however, there are not the same consequences. I do not have to go to prayer. No one will say anything. I could finish another chapter of the book I am reading, or watch tv, or get a head start on supper, if I really wanted. Yet day after day, I come to prayer. Why? Besides the reasons I have previously mentioned, there is something to be said for the tradition. Benedictines have been praying for 1500 years. One of the women here continues to remind me of this, and she says, “If I choose not to go to prayer, if we all chose not to go, who will?” There is tremendous intentionality in our prayer, but it is quite easy to lose sight of why we are there.

Evening prayer has become my favorite prayer time as the daylight hours continue to diminish, for there is a certain atmosphere that occurs when it is dark. Even more meaningful for me is the Advent tradition of holy darkness. During each week of Advent, we begin each evening prayer in darkness, singing part of the hymn, “Holy Darkness.” When I say “in darkness,” I do not mean with lights dimmed or lots of candles or something like that, I mean real darkness. The lights are all shut off and for a moment there is no source of light at all. That is, except one. The candle near the tabernacle, known as the sanctuary lamp, is the only candle lit in the darkest moment, perhaps designating this time and space as sanctuary for the world. Soon, the Advent candles are lit and a cantor comes to the podium. Each week, a different verse of “Holy Darkness” is sung, but the refrain (sung by the whole community) remains the same: “Holy darkness, blessed night, / heaven’s answer hidden from our sight. / As we await you, O God of Silence, / we embrace your holy night.” While we continue to sing about holy darkness, the Advent wreath reminds all of us of the growing light of the hope in the coming Jesus.

I suppose part of the reason I have come here would be to try and see “heaven’s answer” for myself, seeking meaning and understanding for my life. Now I might say that is a bit presumptuous to demand and search out such answers, but I am continuously reminded of the God of Silence, with the gentle call to embrace the nights of meaninglessness, knowing the light of hope continues to shine softly, and that someday, the dawn will come again.