One of the core practices of any monastic life is that of gratitude. The regular practice of taking inventory of and recognizing all that we have to be grateful for is one of the direct causes of a deep and abiding joy in our lives.
The monastic practice of gratitude is not just about giving thanks for all that is going right in the life of the monastic. Things such as change, emotion and life experience are all causes for the monastic to give thanks, but these are not always positive things. Change can be painful, emotions can be uncomfortable and life experiences that shape who we are can be troublesome. Giving thanks for both good and happy things as well as difficult things is a discipline that takes time to master, just as any monastic discipline takes time to accomplish effectively.
On the front page of the OES website is a video from TED concerning joy and gratitude. The monk, David Steindl-Rast lists a few things that mark what we ought to be grateful for, and the thing that sticks out for me is that anything that I didn't earn is something I ought to be grateful for (this covers a great many things in my life).
So, dear readers, I encourage you to take stock of all the things in your life that you have to be grateful for. Take time out of your day to inventory and then give thanks for what you believe is a gift, even for menial things like the meals you eat. You may find that over time, you are more joyful by default.
If you'd like to watch the video about joy and gratitude, it can be found under our "Featured Faith Talks" section on the homepage at http://eremiticservants.org
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
Sunday, April 29, 2018
The Only Constants
To the untrained eye, the monastic life seems full of constant, unchanging things. The cycle of "pray, eat, work" is a visible anchor to every monastic as is one’s unchanging day to day wear, if one chooses to wear the monastic habit.
But, if you were to metaphorically peel back the outer layers as if you were peeling an onion, the only real constants in a sincerely lived monastic life are God and change.
Each of us is called daily, through our prayer and work, to change and to grow both in spirit and in character, into the person that our Creator intended us to be. This often means venturing outside of our comfort zones into new and uncharted territory, to a place where vulnerability and uncertainty reign supreme.
Even as I write this, change is in full force in my life. I’m in the process of moving from the place that has served as my hermitage for over three years, to a place I am familiar with but do not consider my home. My long term relationship is taking its dying breaths and I will be taking on a vow that I have not professed since 2006 - the vow of celibacy.
I’m inclined to think that my Creator has life lessons in store for me. That despite my best efforts to resist growing in the direction I am going, the Spirit has found a way, yet again, to turn things on their head and to instruct my heart in things yet unlearned.
I fully intend to approach this new phase of my life with curiosity and open-mindedness, in hopes that these attitudes will make the lessons I am due to learn as painless as possible.
But, if you were to metaphorically peel back the outer layers as if you were peeling an onion, the only real constants in a sincerely lived monastic life are God and change.
Each of us is called daily, through our prayer and work, to change and to grow both in spirit and in character, into the person that our Creator intended us to be. This often means venturing outside of our comfort zones into new and uncharted territory, to a place where vulnerability and uncertainty reign supreme.
Even as I write this, change is in full force in my life. I’m in the process of moving from the place that has served as my hermitage for over three years, to a place I am familiar with but do not consider my home. My long term relationship is taking its dying breaths and I will be taking on a vow that I have not professed since 2006 - the vow of celibacy.
I’m inclined to think that my Creator has life lessons in store for me. That despite my best efforts to resist growing in the direction I am going, the Spirit has found a way, yet again, to turn things on their head and to instruct my heart in things yet unlearned.
I fully intend to approach this new phase of my life with curiosity and open-mindedness, in hopes that these attitudes will make the lessons I am due to learn as painless as possible.
Sunday, March 11, 2018
From Two Years Ago Today
The tiniest hermit:
I see my own prayers as small on the grand scale of the prayers that fall on the ears of God. Tiny chirps from a speck of dust.
Yet, I know they are heard, because they are answered. Maybe not on the schedule I wish them to be, but all of them are eventually answered.
It is not for this selfish reason that I pray, although I know that God, in It's grace hears my tiny prayers, but that I might through prayer ease a tiny amount of another's suffering; lift a broken soul, comfort an aching heart or maybe even change a life for the better.
The thought of all of this imparts to me the smallest glimpse the sweetest joy of union with my God, if only for a single, tiny moment.
I see my own prayers as small on the grand scale of the prayers that fall on the ears of God. Tiny chirps from a speck of dust.
Yet, I know they are heard, because they are answered. Maybe not on the schedule I wish them to be, but all of them are eventually answered.
It is not for this selfish reason that I pray, although I know that God, in It's grace hears my tiny prayers, but that I might through prayer ease a tiny amount of another's suffering; lift a broken soul, comfort an aching heart or maybe even change a life for the better.
The thought of all of this imparts to me the smallest glimpse the sweetest joy of union with my God, if only for a single, tiny moment.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
A Holy Observance
Lent and Advent are my favorite liturgical seasons. Lent more so because of its message of hope in the mercy of God, Who is loving and merciful to any who would ask.
I do not "give up" things for Lent; I take on new practices such as more prayer, acting with a stricter decorum, and doing more kindness for others. The things I do my best to abstain from are anger, jealousy (which is a huge stumbling block for me), and bitterness.
This year my goal for Lent is to deepen my monastic practice. I have taken on an extra daily prayer office which is done in silence in the middle of the night. By doing so I hope to gain a deeper reverence for my own monastic practice, as well as to join those monks and nuns who are more austere in their communal practices of prayer.
I have also taken on more solitude, in hopes that the silence I experience will lead me closer to the heart of the Creator, also known as Carmel, so that I might find the deep and resounding joy that many others have experienced in this way. As I mentioned in an earlier post, loneliness can be transformed into holy solitude through prayer and meditation, and if we have faith in a Divine Being, we are never truly alone.
I share all of this with you, dear readers, so that you might also find hope during this season the spiritual desert. Be glad and give thanks for even the smallest things in your life, for gratitude leads to joy.
I do not "give up" things for Lent; I take on new practices such as more prayer, acting with a stricter decorum, and doing more kindness for others. The things I do my best to abstain from are anger, jealousy (which is a huge stumbling block for me), and bitterness.
This year my goal for Lent is to deepen my monastic practice. I have taken on an extra daily prayer office which is done in silence in the middle of the night. By doing so I hope to gain a deeper reverence for my own monastic practice, as well as to join those monks and nuns who are more austere in their communal practices of prayer.
I have also taken on more solitude, in hopes that the silence I experience will lead me closer to the heart of the Creator, also known as Carmel, so that I might find the deep and resounding joy that many others have experienced in this way. As I mentioned in an earlier post, loneliness can be transformed into holy solitude through prayer and meditation, and if we have faith in a Divine Being, we are never truly alone.
I share all of this with you, dear readers, so that you might also find hope during this season the spiritual desert. Be glad and give thanks for even the smallest things in your life, for gratitude leads to joy.
Saturday, January 27, 2018
A Strange Set of Vows
The community to which I belong is bound by three vows: Simplicity, Listening and Stewardship. These are not the traditional monastic vows of Poverty, Chastity and Obedience, but are important to our community in the same way that the more traditional vows are honored by other monastic orders.
Our vow of listening begins and ends in being able to observe silence and holy solitude. This vow dictates that we listen for the will of our Creator in our lives, that we listen to our own consciences, and that we listen earnestly to those who are in need of a friendly ear.
The last part of this vow is especially important to us. Being able to listen with sincerity instead of simply remaining silent in wait for our turn to speak is counter-cultural in this day and age. Authentically hearing someone who is in distress builds trust between those involved in the conversation, and it can alleviate suffering in a small way. The first word of the Rule of St. Benedict is "listen", and I believe that this is no accident. The act of listening is a good and holy thing for all monastics as well as secular people, and is largely a lost art in the age of smart phones and "me, my, I" attitudes.
The vow of simplicity is similar to the vow of poverty, however I feel is it a little more practical for a dispersed community. When our homes become our hermitages, we go through a process of simplifying our lives in order that we may focus on prayer and action rather than things. We keep what is practical for our day to day needs, but we declutter things that are not needed such as a large amount of secular clothing for those that choose to wear the monastic habit. When our environments are free from clutter, we are able to focus our attention to prayer, meditation, or service to others rather than objects which distract us from our work as monastics.
The vow of stewardship is one that is a bit more complicated. This vow dictates that we care for the people in our lives, our personal health, and the environment in which we live. Actions such as reducing the amount of garbage we generate is one example; caring for a sick friend or relative is another. Stewardship keeps us accountable for our actions or for inaction, and demands that we act with care for ourselves, our neighbors, and our world.
Lastly, there is an unspoken custom of obedience in the community to which I belong. This means obedience to our Creator, to our Abbot and to our consciences. While obedience is not a vow in and of itself, it is a monastic discipline that has been around as long as there have been monks and nuns.
For example, in "The Sayings of the Desert Fathers", there is a tale of an Abbot who tells one of his monks to go and water a dead branch. The monk does so day after day, and eventually the branch bears fruit, which the monk brings back to share with his fellow monks. The Abbot invites them to eat it by saying "come and eat the fruit of obedience".
We do not blindly follow the orders of a controlling overlord. We rely heavily on the practice of discernment and community dialogue. Fairness is an important factor when the Abbot makes a decision to be followed. The same can not be said for the will of our creator and our own consciences; there is very little gray area involving obedience in these ways.
I invite you to reflect on how these vows might impact your life were you to profess them, and to comment below with your findings.
Our vow of listening begins and ends in being able to observe silence and holy solitude. This vow dictates that we listen for the will of our Creator in our lives, that we listen to our own consciences, and that we listen earnestly to those who are in need of a friendly ear.
The last part of this vow is especially important to us. Being able to listen with sincerity instead of simply remaining silent in wait for our turn to speak is counter-cultural in this day and age. Authentically hearing someone who is in distress builds trust between those involved in the conversation, and it can alleviate suffering in a small way. The first word of the Rule of St. Benedict is "listen", and I believe that this is no accident. The act of listening is a good and holy thing for all monastics as well as secular people, and is largely a lost art in the age of smart phones and "me, my, I" attitudes.
The vow of simplicity is similar to the vow of poverty, however I feel is it a little more practical for a dispersed community. When our homes become our hermitages, we go through a process of simplifying our lives in order that we may focus on prayer and action rather than things. We keep what is practical for our day to day needs, but we declutter things that are not needed such as a large amount of secular clothing for those that choose to wear the monastic habit. When our environments are free from clutter, we are able to focus our attention to prayer, meditation, or service to others rather than objects which distract us from our work as monastics.
The vow of stewardship is one that is a bit more complicated. This vow dictates that we care for the people in our lives, our personal health, and the environment in which we live. Actions such as reducing the amount of garbage we generate is one example; caring for a sick friend or relative is another. Stewardship keeps us accountable for our actions or for inaction, and demands that we act with care for ourselves, our neighbors, and our world.
Lastly, there is an unspoken custom of obedience in the community to which I belong. This means obedience to our Creator, to our Abbot and to our consciences. While obedience is not a vow in and of itself, it is a monastic discipline that has been around as long as there have been monks and nuns.
For example, in "The Sayings of the Desert Fathers", there is a tale of an Abbot who tells one of his monks to go and water a dead branch. The monk does so day after day, and eventually the branch bears fruit, which the monk brings back to share with his fellow monks. The Abbot invites them to eat it by saying "come and eat the fruit of obedience".
We do not blindly follow the orders of a controlling overlord. We rely heavily on the practice of discernment and community dialogue. Fairness is an important factor when the Abbot makes a decision to be followed. The same can not be said for the will of our creator and our own consciences; there is very little gray area involving obedience in these ways.
I invite you to reflect on how these vows might impact your life were you to profess them, and to comment below with your findings.
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