by Albert Holtz
Christian and non-Christian monastic traditions such as Zen Buddhism all agree that you need to stay in the present if you want to encounter the sacred. You can’t really meet God—or anyone else—in the past, nor in the future, since both are beyond your grasp. The only time to meet God is now, in the present moment. This is why Benedict repeats those urgent exhortations from scripture such as, “Today if you hear his voice, harden not your heart!” and “Run while you have the light of day.” This is the deep-down point of his insisting that we always be mindful of God’s “presence,” God’s existence in the present: if I don’t encounter God today, in the here and now, I never will.
The geraniums are starting to glow red. The sky is brightening with the light that announces the challenge of a new day.
The two crows, though, are already working out plans for tomorrow.
“Cras?” asks the one, just making sure.
“Cras! Cras!” agrees the other with gusto.
I pick up my Bible and open it. Time to ignore the crows and start living in today.
SCRIPTURAL REFLECTION
O that today you would listen to his voice!
Do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah,
as on the day at Massah in the wilderness,
when your ancestors tested me,
and put me to the proof, though they had seen my
work. (Psalm 95:7b–9)
Sit quietly and listen for the Lord’s voice. What is the Lord’s voice asking you to do today? What emotions does this request evoke in you?
Choose some simple chore such as washing the dishes or emptying the garbage, then try to do this task while being really present in it the whole time. Don’t let your mind wander to anything else in the past or the future, but simply be present to this one task.
RULE OF BENEDICT
“Let us open our eyes to the light that comes from God, and our ears to the voice from heaven that every day calls out this charge: If you hear his voice today, do not harden your hearts.” (Prologue, vv. 8–10)
THE GOD OF THE REAL: VIBRAM SOLE PEOPLE
Some folks think that we live in the monastery in order to avoid facing the harsh “realities” of life, as if “reality” were an enemy of the spiritual life and might distract us from the lofty business of seeking God. That’s not only bad monastic theology, it’s not even Christianity. If you want to understand the true Christian attitude toward everyday reality, watch the Vibram sole people.
“Mostly what I remember is rain. It rained for, like, three days straight. And at Project U.S.E.1 you don’t have tents.” Sam is standing in front of the student body assembled in the school cafeteria. He and some of his classmates have just returned from a week-long hike in the woods of New Hampshire.
“So we just strung a big tarp between some trees and put our stuff under it, and cooked and slept there, too,” he continues. There are sympathetic groans from the audience. As often happens with students involved in experiential education, it’s hard to tell whether he’s complaining or bragging.
The students are making presentations today about their Spring Projects. Every May we close up the classrooms and each student spends five weeks involved in some experience-based learning project. Some students have been putting on a children’s play and presenting it in local grammar schools, others monitoring the e. coli bacteria level of the Passaic River and the lake in Branch Brook Park, and many have been volunteering full-time in schools and daycare centers.
“Learning by doing” means personal, firsthand involvement in activities that have real consequences. Make a math mistake when you’re ordering the lumber for the stage set and you see the results very quickly. Help a retarded nine-year-old to read words for the first time and you change her life. Ignore the ban on keeping food in your tent while backpacking and a hungry bear barges in for a midnight snack. You’re not talking about mathematics or reading about helping people or thinking about the need to follow instructions, but rather learning by really doing.
There are experiential education organizations dedicated to the principle that the best way to learn anything is by firsthand experience. My favorite among these are the professional outdoor educators, sometimes called “the Vibram sole crowd” after the hard rubber soles of their hiking boots.
“One day—I think it was Wednesday—we hiked through a swamp.” A second Project U.S.E. student has now taken up the tale. “I don’t know—I think we were lost or something. Anyway, we were in this swamp freezing to death when Vince sprained his ankle. So we had to wrap his ankle. And Beth, who was one of our counselors, showed us this way you can lift people when they’re hurt, and we had to carry him out.”
There’s something very genuine about Vibram sole people, something that rings true: they deal with reality as they find it. Every day they work in situations that challenge their endurance, their courage, and their creativity. They don’t judge the “success” of an experience by whether or not it goes according to plan—the whole idea is to respond and react not to “the way it’s supposed to be,” but rather to what actually and truly is.
That is exactly what being a Christian is about, too: you deal with what really and truly is. The gospel calls us to find God not in theories or abstractions or pleasant pastel fantasies, but in the actual experiences and challenges of everyday living. Just as in outdoor education, chances are you may get pretty uncomfortable or even banged up a few times before the journey’s over. A raccoon steals half of your food. You get lost. It rains for four days straight. Your canoe whacks against a rock and springs a leak. The search for God takes all of us through realities just as unpredictable and unpleasant, from misunderstandings and broken relationships to a telltale X-ray or a pink slip. The Lord assures us, in fact, that this reality is going to involve suffering: “Take up your cross and follow in my steps every day.” This is the only way to live the gospel, however: meeting reality head-on and letting the God of the Real meet you there. This is “Vibram sole Christianity.”
“Anyway, after the rain stopped, things were pretty okay. We lit a fire and dried out our stuff. And Vince had to keep his foot up. They took him to get it X-rayed next day.”
Vibram sole Christians follow Christ by dealing with reality the way the experiential education instructors do: facing life’s experiences honestly and, in the process, finding deeper truths about themselves and the world.
Anyone who comes to the monastery hoping to escape the challenges that life poses will stand out like a sore thumb. Before very long the would-be escapee discovers a frightening fact: in the monastery everything is arranged precisely to help you to meet reality head-on. It is a center for Vibram sole Christianity. The monastic ideal is to strip away all the falseness and let God work with the real you. The monastery offers no place to hide, whether in overwork or indolence, behind a pleasant face or a gruff personality. If you honestly accept the daily demands of community life and practice frequent introspective prayer, you’ll be faced with larger doses of “reality” about yourself than most folks get in the “real world.” And in the process you will be introduced to the Living and Almighty One, the God of the Real.
The whole school is applauding the hikers who have ended their presentation. As they file back to their seats, they each trade a “high five” with a senior named Rob. He’s on his way up to the microphone to tell how he struggled for five weeks, working with an autistic five-year-old girl named Melanie. Definitely Vibram sole stuff!
SCRIPTURAL REFLECTION
In Psalm 29 the psalmist meets God in the awesome power of the storm. As you read it slowly, bring to mind a particularly threatening storm you have experienced. Let yourself feel the force of the wind and hear the crashing thunder as well as experience the feelings this evokes.
The voice of the Lord is over the waters;
the God of glory thunders,
the Lord, over mighty waters.
The voice of the Lord is powerful;
the voice of the L
ord is full of majesty.
The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars;
the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon.
He makes Lebanon skip like a calf,
and Sirion like a young wild ox.
The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire.
The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness;
the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.
The voice of the Lord causes the oaks to whirl,
and strips the forest bare;
and in his temple all say, “Glory!” (vv. 3–9)
What have the experiences of emotional or psychological “storms” in your life taught you about yourself? About God?
RULE OF BENEDICT
“Do not be daunted immediately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love. Never swerving from his instructions, then, but faithfully observing his teaching in the monastery until death, we shall through patience share in the sufferings of Christ that we may deserve also to share in his kingdom. Amen.” (Prologue, vv. 48–50)
1. Project U.S.E. is a New Jersey-based educational organization that runs outdoor experiences like those of the more famous “Outward Bound” program.
THE GOD OF FORGIVENESS: THE IBM SELECTRIC
You bump into God at the strangest times. One of my most unforgettable encounters happened many years ago—right after I had done something truly stupid.
Two days previously, I asked Fr. Eugene if he would lend me his new electric typewriter so I could type a paper for a class in graduate school.
“Sure!” he says, happy to be of help. “Just take the whole thing, table and all. It’s easier to move that way. Take the elevator though. Don’t try to carry it on the stairs or you’re liable to drop it.” I agree readily and take the shiny new machine back to my room, where it does a beautiful job on my paper. …
As I roll the typewriter back down the long hallway toward the elevator to return it to Fr. Eugene I notice the staircase that leads up to the fourth floor. His room is right at the top of the stairs. I could save several minutes by just carrying the typewriter on its table right up the stairs. Why not? I pick up the table and carefully start up the steps.
Crash! The sickening racket echoes through the monastery’s hallways as the brand new IBM typewriter smashes onto the first step. I stand frozen, mouth agape, holding an empty typewriter table and staring down wide-eyed at the pale blue machine that has just landed at my feet. I look up the steep flight of stairs and change my mind: there’s no way I’ll carry it up the stairs now! I decide to do what I should have done in the first place and take the elevator.
I set the typing table down at the foot of the staircase and glower accusingly at the front leg that caught on the bottom step and sent the typewriter flying. How could I be so dumb? After what Fr. Eugene said to me, I still couldn’t resist saving three minutes by carrying it up the stairs instead of going to the far end of the hallway and taking the school elevator. Now I’ve got this disaster on my hands.
In a daze I bend over and lift the machine carefully back onto the table, coiling the long black power cord onto the top. I can’t see any damage, but I’ve got a sick, foreboding feeling. I hurry, trying to disappear before curious heads start peering out of the monks’ rooms that line the long hallway.
With the typewriter back on its stand I wheel it squeakily down the hall toward the elevator. I’m numb as I mechanically push it through the doorway and then onto the elevator. I poke the button with the “4” worn off of it.
Fr. Eugene was one of the first monks I had met as a freshman in high school. He was our music teacher and was in charge of the glee club. That’s where I got to know him. I thought he was just the greatest. By the end of my sophomore year, I was convinced that what I wanted to do when I grew up was to come to St. Benedict’s Prep and become a monk and be just like Fr. Eugene. Now, in my first year of teaching here with him, I’ve ruined his expensive new typewriter.
Fourth floor. I roll the table out of the elevator as fast as I dare—I want to get the next few minutes over with as quickly as possible. I let myself through the door leading into the monastery and squeak up to his door. I swallow hard and knock. I can hear my heart thumping.
“Come in, please.”
I turn the knob and push the typewriter in ahead of me. “Hi, Fr. Eugene! I’m bringing your typewriter back.”
“Oh! Finished already? Good for you!” he answers cheerfully.
I blurt out right away, “There’s a little problem though. I dropped it. I dropped the typewriter.” I hold my breath, waiting for the explosion, the scolding and the “Didn’t I tell you to use the elevator?”
“Oh! Was that the crash I heard a minute ago?” he asks as if he were simply curious.
“Afraid so.” I answer in a cracked voice. “I was starting to carry it up the stairs and it slid off and hit the floor.” How I wish I were somewhere else right now! Some place very far away.
“Well, let’s plug it in and see if it still works,’ ” he suggests matter-of-factly as he carefully marks his page, closes the book, and gets out of his chair.
I snatch the power cord a little too eagerly and, hands fumbling and shaking, I bend over and plug it into an outlet right by the door. Please, God, please let it work! Let it be all right! My knees are getting weak.
When he pushes the switch, I close my eyes and hold my breath. There’s an odd humming sound. I half-open one eye and peek at the little steel ball with all the letters on it. He touches a key on the keyboard. The ball gives one sickly little twitch, and then the weird buzz gets louder. It’s shot! He tries a few more keys, each time with the same result. Oh, God! I’ve ruined it! I start to sweat as I prepare once again for the scolding to start.
“Well, looks like something’s broken, huh?” he says calmly, as he pops open the top of the machine and peers down casually at its innards.
“I … I’m sorry!” I blurt out, “What can I say? It was such a dumb thing to do! I feel awful.” I don’t just feel stupid, I also feel as if I’ve betrayed his trust and let him down. “Man! I just feel so.…”
“Hey!” he interrupts me in a gentle voice. Still bent over the ruined typewriter, he turns his head to look up at me. “Relax, please! So something’s broken. It’s still under warranty, and we can probably get it fixed for nothing. No big deal!”
I blink at him. I can’t believe my ears. “You mean you’re not mad at me?” I ask incredulously.
“What for?” he mumbles, his nose buried in the machine again. After a few more seconds he straightens up, gently closes the top of the machine, and adds, “These things happen. We’ll all survive, I’m sure.”
I’m at a loss for words. Although I still feel terrible, a new feeling starts to sweep over me—a wonderful sense of relief. Look what I’ve done! Yet he’s just brushing it off as if nothing happened!
“Well …” I stammer, still trying to figure out this turn of events.
“I’ll get Fr. Ben to call the service guy and get it fixed,” he continues. “So do me a favor and don’t worry about it!” His smile is utterly convincing. “Okay? Really. I mean it.”
“Okay. Thanks a lot, Father!” I answer, forcing a smile. He’s already walking back to his chair where he’d been reading when I came in. As far as he’s concerned, the business is finished. But I’m still mortified and feel that I have to say something, anything. “Sorry! I mean, that was so dumb, you know?” I babble, “I just feel so, well, so.…”
At his chair he stops, turns back toward me, and with an amused look, gently interrupts me in mid-sentence: “Just close the door on your way out. See you at Vespers.” He sits down, picks up his book, and opens to the bookmark.
“Okay,” I babble. “And thanks!” I pull the door gently behind me until it clic
ks.
On my way back down the fateful staircase I start to realize the beautiful thing that has just happened to me. The feeling of being stupid is now completely washed away by the overwhelming experience of being forgiven. I’d stood there guilty and vulnerable and foolish, totally at his mercy, and Fr. Eugene simply let me off the hook! Not even a hint of blame in his voice or his body language. I’ve been completely and unconditionally forgiven!
The Lord has just used a kind brother and a broken typewriter to give me a glimpse of God’s infinite, loving forgiveness. It’s almost as if I’ve had a preview of the day when I’ll appear before the throne of judgment, and now I know for sure how it will all turn out.
I’m almost laughing out loud by the time I get back to my room. I walk across to my cluttered desk. There, right on top of the pile of books, is my term paper, neatly typed on Fr. Eugene’s new IBM Selectric.
SCRIPTURAL REFLECTION
The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery; and making her stand before all of them, they said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground. When they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders; and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, sir.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.” (John 8:3–11)
