Prayer, caregiving, and cracking walnuts

When I entered the monastic immersion experience last October, the program specifically for women interested in working with the elderly had not been created, but I've been, de facto, in a precursor to the program. It's been a dance of prayer and work, each benefitting the other and often blending; challenging, deepening, each day offering the opportunity to put spiritual ideals into practice. Working with the elder sisters has been a rare opportunity to enter thoroughly into the life of the monastery, and I have received more love than I have given, from the other caregivers as well as the sisters.Practical skills and people skills have grown. Prayer has deepened and become more than ever a river flowing quietly and powerfully beneath the surface of everyday life.

It seems that almost everyone coming to volunteer at the monastery has stereotypes and illusions about religious life and the people that have chosen it, which crumble with blessed rapidity as the days pass. Then, more slowly but with much more satisfaction, one gets to know and greatly appreciate the sisters as individual human beings: this one's integrity, intelligence, and sense of humor, that one's warmth and exuberance, another's unflappability as I broke the nut-cracking device on a rock-hard black walnut and she did the same with the other one ten minutes later. Valuing the solemnity of the greater feasts and enjoying the quirks and non-ecclesiastical passions of the greater community: sharing in the search and widespread commiseration when our maintenance man's coffee cup, so chipped and stained that only its mother could love it, carefully placed behind the coffee machine after washing so that no one else could either use it or be appalled by it, was lost; coming to recognize one sister's bright Gonzaga T-shirt worn as a public-service announcement that there is a televised game that night.

I like the variety of the work: the majority of the hours I put in make use of my caregiving and massage therapist's skills, but there is always something else for diversion, from hoisting the Advent wreath by ropes hanging from two stories above, to raking leaves, to writing and talking, collaborating on a new project.

The sisters' way of life lends itself to putting in practice the ideals for quality of life for the very elderly or handicapped which are emerging in the world at large: integration into the community, contributing, respected, finding meaning in life until the very end; the community benefitting by the presence of its eldest members and able to ensure and contribute to the quality of their care.

Time to show up for prayer...will end here. All the best, Annon.

Bit of an impasse

When asked to add a contribution to this blog, I worked on it for some hours yesterday, posted it, then deleted it. In the end, all that I'm really capable of contributing is the observation that the Monastic Immersion Program is a great opportunity for a person who is just beginning to explore the ideals and practices of monasticism. It is also a fruitful way for a person long familiar with those ideals to live more powerfully a contemplative vocation, whether or not that vocation is specifically to Benedictine monasticism. But I'm not a writer, and for anything worth saying the words I can find are too trite and too hackneyed to make a worthwhile and readable contribution to the blog. Elena is a writer, and I enjoy her contributions and appreciate her generosity in sharing her experiences. 
All the best,
Annon (another member of the 9-month Monastic Immersion Experience) 

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.”