"The vow of *conversatio morum* implies an intention and
desire to seek and to find God in the monastic life...in its
traditional wholeness, simplicity, and purity...as soon as the
vow of *conversio morum* is interpreted in the light of authentic
tradition, its inner meaning begins to be apparent. It is an
awakening to the sound of God's voice, calling us to the path
of life, to the way of humility and obedience..."
[Thomas Merton, MYSTICS & ZEN MASTERS, 1961, p. 156.]
Comment: The great Trappist believed that once we understood
*Conversio Morum," as interpreted in the light of authentic
tradition, intimating the monastic life, all will become apparent.
And he said, also, outside this authentic tradition that the
"calling" might be misunderstood, leaving a person tangled
in chaos.
At first I was inclined to dispute this approach by Merton, but
upon second thought I am now disposed to believe that he
might have been right.
I believe that in some unique way that everyone in this world
is "called" to their own particular path of life. But like the famous
Seeds Parable of Jesus, well that calling drops on different kinds
of soil. Some of the seeds are able to unfold successfully unto
their fullness, other seeds only measured by the circumstances,
and some die upon arrival.
The easy answer to this is to blame the person who cannot
bring forth their "calling". However, a deeper question might be
how aware is one to this calling, how much value do they place
in such?
In this world of ours today, the seeds of calling might die
outright because of ignorance. Merton recognizes that there
is a need for structure that enhances a person's awareness to
their sense of calling.
I don't necessarily believe that "authentic tradition" has to be
the monastic life when it comes to understanding more clearly
one's sense of calling, but it does seem need being enhanced
within a certain context.
Speaking for myself, before I moved more into a monastic
understanding of life, I embarked on a life that emphasized
Nobility. No not inherited nobility, but rather a life nobly lived.
As to where I got such ideas, they came from a structure
called Classical Philosophy--i.e., Platonism and Stoicism,
both based on Virtue.
I've been told by some Benedictines that forever so long,
the Order's monks have honored Classical Philosophy. Indeed
the Benedictines retrieved lost pagan books from the Muslims,
and saved them by copying them in their scriptoriums. It wasn't
only philosophy, but also naturalist and medical manuals that
they saved. And over time these earlier medieval Benedictines
started incorporating Classical Wisdom into their own spiritual
writings.
But I digress! In the final analysis, I do believe it more profitable
following one's calling through a structure that can carry it forth.
Just a tidbit here, if I may. I once heard a football coach actually
talk about his particular calling that led to his personal vocation,
and within the NFL he found the structure in which to unfold the
seeds of his calling unto their fullness.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
(60) Love Qualified
"The longer I live, the more I am aware of a reaching out for the
intimacy of a man-woman relationship. I am not thinking simply or
primarily of physical loving, but of the more wide-ranging trust or
intimacy which is at the heart of companionship, which involves
our affective sexuality, but which is distinct from physical intimacy."
[Dominic Gaisford, OSB, "Cast Your Bread on the Waters," in
A TOUCH OF GOD: EIGHT MONASTIC JOURNEYS, St. Bede;s
Publications, 1982, p. 164.]
Comment: "Love" is a word bandied about at so many levels of
human experience. Most of us love, fall in love, love in so many
expressed ways that such is hardly countable. On the other hand,
I have noticed in religious writings these tiers or categories of
Love as expressed by theologians, religious, and monastics.
And Fr. Dominic had the courage to write about his need for a
certain kind of love. At the time he wrote this article, he had been
long a monk at Worth Abbey, in England, as well as having had
served in Peru for a time. In other words, he was a seasoned
monk who had worked in a number of monastic capacities.
However, reading his sentences about his need for intimacy, it
was as if he were attaining towards a different kind of maturity,
not just going up the service ranks of being a monk. But because
he had declared living the celibate life, he needed to *qualify*
the terms of any love relationship he might hope to encounter.
Being outside the walls, though I can never count myself "wise"
when it comes to love, I rather imagine that it would be difficult
for a man and a woman to love one another without some sort
of physical intimacy. It's accomplished, of course, but it's far
from complete. Underneath any qualified love between the sexes
there's the glow burning away.
This *glow* stokes love, but under special circumstances I can
only presume that it's burn is controlled by a certain behavior
towards one another. No doubt it's do-able, but surely there
must be some sort of understanding between the two parties.
And maybe it's enough, though I suspect one side of the bond
will suffer more from the relationship than the other.
But one thing for sure, Love is a need whether a monk or not.
intimacy of a man-woman relationship. I am not thinking simply or
primarily of physical loving, but of the more wide-ranging trust or
intimacy which is at the heart of companionship, which involves
our affective sexuality, but which is distinct from physical intimacy."
[Dominic Gaisford, OSB, "Cast Your Bread on the Waters," in
A TOUCH OF GOD: EIGHT MONASTIC JOURNEYS, St. Bede;s
Publications, 1982, p. 164.]
Comment: "Love" is a word bandied about at so many levels of
human experience. Most of us love, fall in love, love in so many
expressed ways that such is hardly countable. On the other hand,
I have noticed in religious writings these tiers or categories of
Love as expressed by theologians, religious, and monastics.
And Fr. Dominic had the courage to write about his need for a
certain kind of love. At the time he wrote this article, he had been
long a monk at Worth Abbey, in England, as well as having had
served in Peru for a time. In other words, he was a seasoned
monk who had worked in a number of monastic capacities.
However, reading his sentences about his need for intimacy, it
was as if he were attaining towards a different kind of maturity,
not just going up the service ranks of being a monk. But because
he had declared living the celibate life, he needed to *qualify*
the terms of any love relationship he might hope to encounter.
Being outside the walls, though I can never count myself "wise"
when it comes to love, I rather imagine that it would be difficult
for a man and a woman to love one another without some sort
of physical intimacy. It's accomplished, of course, but it's far
from complete. Underneath any qualified love between the sexes
there's the glow burning away.
This *glow* stokes love, but under special circumstances I can
only presume that it's burn is controlled by a certain behavior
towards one another. No doubt it's do-able, but surely there
must be some sort of understanding between the two parties.
And maybe it's enough, though I suspect one side of the bond
will suffer more from the relationship than the other.
But one thing for sure, Love is a need whether a monk or not.
Monday, March 8, 2010
(59) Work
"Work...must be congenial and satisfying if the spiritual life is to
develop normally: it cannot be all Cross and austerity."
[Cardinal Basil Hume, O.S.B., SEARCHING FOR GOD, Paulist
Press, 1977, p. 94.]
Comment: The late Basil Hume, once a Bendictine abbot, was
called to be the Catholic archbishop for England. He was well
loved, probably because he was gentle and wise. And I feel
quite lucky to have found this little pearl of wisdom as stated above.
Like the countless billions of other folk on this planet, I have worked.
I'm old enough to have seen my way through two careers, and now
I am embarking on a third life phase.
I have to admit to some considerable good fortune, in that my two
earlier careers were indeed "congenial and satisfying." But I have
to admit, also, that the times were right when I found myself in the
workplace. Coming from a small generation, too, I no doubt didn't
have the competition for positions that younger people now face.
So probably "luck" plays a big part when it comes to our work
situation. But luck isn't always with every person. Bad luck can
give one a raw deal. On the other hand, bad preparation nearly
always guarantees a poor hand when it comes to work. But
not everybody has the inclination towards academic study. Still
there's technical or vocational training. However, this presupposes
that a person *knows* the kind of effort or work that best suits him
or her. School testing, other forms of personality tests might help--
if one wants to bead-in more expertly where their talents lie.
Yet, not every one in this world has access to tests, to job availability,
etc. Our world lives on multiple tracks of existence, from the ultra-
urban to the agricultural realm to tribal societies. So finding that
good creative work that suits might be an impossibility.
Nonetheless, Cardinal Hume is surely on the mark when it comes
to work and its impact on the spiritual life. We are not necessarily
talking Religion here, but really more about our own personal human
spirit. If our work is creative and pleasant--and especially meaningful--
then we possess a happy spirit. And usually happy spirits spread
and share their happiness!
develop normally: it cannot be all Cross and austerity."
[Cardinal Basil Hume, O.S.B., SEARCHING FOR GOD, Paulist
Press, 1977, p. 94.]
Comment: The late Basil Hume, once a Bendictine abbot, was
called to be the Catholic archbishop for England. He was well
loved, probably because he was gentle and wise. And I feel
quite lucky to have found this little pearl of wisdom as stated above.
Like the countless billions of other folk on this planet, I have worked.
I'm old enough to have seen my way through two careers, and now
I am embarking on a third life phase.
I have to admit to some considerable good fortune, in that my two
earlier careers were indeed "congenial and satisfying." But I have
to admit, also, that the times were right when I found myself in the
workplace. Coming from a small generation, too, I no doubt didn't
have the competition for positions that younger people now face.
So probably "luck" plays a big part when it comes to our work
situation. But luck isn't always with every person. Bad luck can
give one a raw deal. On the other hand, bad preparation nearly
always guarantees a poor hand when it comes to work. But
not everybody has the inclination towards academic study. Still
there's technical or vocational training. However, this presupposes
that a person *knows* the kind of effort or work that best suits him
or her. School testing, other forms of personality tests might help--
if one wants to bead-in more expertly where their talents lie.
Yet, not every one in this world has access to tests, to job availability,
etc. Our world lives on multiple tracks of existence, from the ultra-
urban to the agricultural realm to tribal societies. So finding that
good creative work that suits might be an impossibility.
Nonetheless, Cardinal Hume is surely on the mark when it comes
to work and its impact on the spiritual life. We are not necessarily
talking Religion here, but really more about our own personal human
spirit. If our work is creative and pleasant--and especially meaningful--
then we possess a happy spirit. And usually happy spirits spread
and share their happiness!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
(58) Balance II
"Balance is the word--and the way to Benedictine balance is
simply to live the life."
[Wulstan Mork, OSB, THE BENEDICTINE WAY, St. Bede's
Publications, 1980, p. 55.]
Comment: At the time of publication, Fr. Wulstan was a monk
at Marmion Abbey in Illinois. And though he wrote this book,
and several other books, the one small sentence above carried
within it the whole of the Benedictine Way!
I can only say that I am grateful, finally, to grasp this insight.
"Balance" can be very elusive, as I can well attest. Perhaps
the duration towards this condition might be easier inside the
monastery, where formation and fellow monks are there to
illustrate better their way of life. Outside the walls, the
challenge towards achieving balance surely is more demanding.
Without going into the precise details of the Benedictine Way,
I believe that I have formulated--at least for myself--a scheduled
approach to my day. It's about taking time out for certain
procedures, if you will. This kind of balance can prevent the
little cracks of chaos that might seep into one's day. On the
other hand, this kind of balance relates to an ordered life
that--in turn--holds the possibility for positive creativity.
However, there's a danger even here. I cannot presume for
others, but I (myself) have fallen afoul of *rigidity.* Living a
Benedictine life should flow as naturally as possible, gentle,
meaningful, satisfying. But learning one's way into living this
kind of balanced life might not only take time, but considerable
patience.
Consequently, I found that I had to be very patient with myself.
And figuratively not slap my hand every time I failed to follow
specific forms of the Benedictine Way. What worked for me was
when I finally reached a point towards understanding that the
process was *beneficial* for me. At that point I started to realize
the flow of the Benedictine Way far more easily.
Balance, too, lends very much towards Stability and Peace.
simply to live the life."
[Wulstan Mork, OSB, THE BENEDICTINE WAY, St. Bede's
Publications, 1980, p. 55.]
Comment: At the time of publication, Fr. Wulstan was a monk
at Marmion Abbey in Illinois. And though he wrote this book,
and several other books, the one small sentence above carried
within it the whole of the Benedictine Way!
I can only say that I am grateful, finally, to grasp this insight.
"Balance" can be very elusive, as I can well attest. Perhaps
the duration towards this condition might be easier inside the
monastery, where formation and fellow monks are there to
illustrate better their way of life. Outside the walls, the
challenge towards achieving balance surely is more demanding.
Without going into the precise details of the Benedictine Way,
I believe that I have formulated--at least for myself--a scheduled
approach to my day. It's about taking time out for certain
procedures, if you will. This kind of balance can prevent the
little cracks of chaos that might seep into one's day. On the
other hand, this kind of balance relates to an ordered life
that--in turn--holds the possibility for positive creativity.
However, there's a danger even here. I cannot presume for
others, but I (myself) have fallen afoul of *rigidity.* Living a
Benedictine life should flow as naturally as possible, gentle,
meaningful, satisfying. But learning one's way into living this
kind of balanced life might not only take time, but considerable
patience.
Consequently, I found that I had to be very patient with myself.
And figuratively not slap my hand every time I failed to follow
specific forms of the Benedictine Way. What worked for me was
when I finally reached a point towards understanding that the
process was *beneficial* for me. At that point I started to realize
the flow of the Benedictine Way far more easily.
Balance, too, lends very much towards Stability and Peace.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
(57) Renewal
"Wax and wane it will...the monastics say it this way:
A pilgrim was walking along a road when one day he
passed what seemed to be a monk sitting in a field.
Nearby, men were working on a stone building.
'You look like a monk,' the pilgrim said.
'I am that,' said the monk.
'Who is that working on the abbey?'
'My monks,' said the man. 'I am the abbot.'
'Oh, that's wonderful.' the pilgrim said, 'It's so good to
see a monastery going up.'
'We're tearing it down.' the abbot said.
'Tearing it down?' the pilgrim cried, 'Whatever for?'
'So we can see the sun rise at dawn,' the abbot said.
To lose something is often to renew it."
[Joan Chittister, O.S.B., THE FIRE IN THESE ASHES:
A SPIRITUALITY OF CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS LIFE,
1995, p. 77.]
Comment: Sr. Joan is a famous Benedictine, belonging
to a priory in Erie, PA. She has authored a number of books,
and this particular book is about the decline of the religious
orders--in that their numbers are dwindling, and their average
age is rising. Sr. Joan has hope and ideas how this situation
might be curtailed. But it has been some time since the
above book was published, and the decline continues.
I used to say "alas," after such a remark. But lately I have
been re-thinking this situation. First of all, the decline seems
"historical." It does not seem a temporary matter, though some
hoped it would be. It appears to be an on-going event (or
problem).
However, viewed as "historical," I have to wonder whether
the Spirit is devising new ways to be a monastic or religious.
Perhaps the hope for "renewal" might eventually be placed far
beyond the walls of a monastery--even beyond a particular
group or organization.
Still just pondering, but more and more there's continuous
emphasis on the religious life, the monastic, out-in-the-world.
Monastic forums, even back in the 1980s, talked about the
"New Monk" as described in Raimundo Panikkar's book
BLESSED SIMPLICITY: THE MONK AS AN UNIVERSAL
ARCHETYPE. Lots of ideas have surfaced during these
forums, and in monastic articles ever since.
Whether devised or accidental, these past three decades
many of the best monastic minds have essentially been
writing for a wide consumption of readers, who live outside
the walls. In effect their books are explaining their Tradition.
Once it was thought in Panikkar's forum that perhaps
monasteries could be like teaching facilities, enabling the
"New Monk" when it came to any serious monastic formation.
As far as I know, this hasn't happened in any depth--though
secular members of religious and monastic orders do receive
at least the rudiments.
Regardless, I am beginning to believe--whether unconsciously,
whether consciously--Benedictine monks and nuns have
definitely been spreading their Tradition's teachings through
the written word. And, in the end, this may be the best course
to take!
Not everybody can journey to a monastery, but they can
pick-up a book. Also, nowadays, we live in an expansive
world of Communications, where one can just flick on the
computer. In the old days one could trudge to the library or
the bookstore, but now it's easier switching to the Internet.
Anyway, the Benedictines have been busy--long building
websites, attending Net discussion groups, putting their
articles and abstracts online, advertising their upcoming books.
They seem nearly a "natural" in this world of Communication.
Why not, these are the folk who started the whole thing--way
back--with their scriptoriums!
In the end, these "historical" events could end-up strangely
surprising. Renewal is hopeful, but not predictable.
A pilgrim was walking along a road when one day he
passed what seemed to be a monk sitting in a field.
Nearby, men were working on a stone building.
'You look like a monk,' the pilgrim said.
'I am that,' said the monk.
'Who is that working on the abbey?'
'My monks,' said the man. 'I am the abbot.'
'Oh, that's wonderful.' the pilgrim said, 'It's so good to
see a monastery going up.'
'We're tearing it down.' the abbot said.
'Tearing it down?' the pilgrim cried, 'Whatever for?'
'So we can see the sun rise at dawn,' the abbot said.
To lose something is often to renew it."
[Joan Chittister, O.S.B., THE FIRE IN THESE ASHES:
A SPIRITUALITY OF CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS LIFE,
1995, p. 77.]
Comment: Sr. Joan is a famous Benedictine, belonging
to a priory in Erie, PA. She has authored a number of books,
and this particular book is about the decline of the religious
orders--in that their numbers are dwindling, and their average
age is rising. Sr. Joan has hope and ideas how this situation
might be curtailed. But it has been some time since the
above book was published, and the decline continues.
I used to say "alas," after such a remark. But lately I have
been re-thinking this situation. First of all, the decline seems
"historical." It does not seem a temporary matter, though some
hoped it would be. It appears to be an on-going event (or
problem).
However, viewed as "historical," I have to wonder whether
the Spirit is devising new ways to be a monastic or religious.
Perhaps the hope for "renewal" might eventually be placed far
beyond the walls of a monastery--even beyond a particular
group or organization.
Still just pondering, but more and more there's continuous
emphasis on the religious life, the monastic, out-in-the-world.
Monastic forums, even back in the 1980s, talked about the
"New Monk" as described in Raimundo Panikkar's book
BLESSED SIMPLICITY: THE MONK AS AN UNIVERSAL
ARCHETYPE. Lots of ideas have surfaced during these
forums, and in monastic articles ever since.
Whether devised or accidental, these past three decades
many of the best monastic minds have essentially been
writing for a wide consumption of readers, who live outside
the walls. In effect their books are explaining their Tradition.
Once it was thought in Panikkar's forum that perhaps
monasteries could be like teaching facilities, enabling the
"New Monk" when it came to any serious monastic formation.
As far as I know, this hasn't happened in any depth--though
secular members of religious and monastic orders do receive
at least the rudiments.
Regardless, I am beginning to believe--whether unconsciously,
whether consciously--Benedictine monks and nuns have
definitely been spreading their Tradition's teachings through
the written word. And, in the end, this may be the best course
to take!
Not everybody can journey to a monastery, but they can
pick-up a book. Also, nowadays, we live in an expansive
world of Communications, where one can just flick on the
computer. In the old days one could trudge to the library or
the bookstore, but now it's easier switching to the Internet.
Anyway, the Benedictines have been busy--long building
websites, attending Net discussion groups, putting their
articles and abstracts online, advertising their upcoming books.
They seem nearly a "natural" in this world of Communication.
Why not, these are the folk who started the whole thing--way
back--with their scriptoriums!
In the end, these "historical" events could end-up strangely
surprising. Renewal is hopeful, but not predictable.
Friday, December 4, 2009
(56) A Book most Worthy
Awhile back I came across a really excellent book, as put:
[Laura Swan, editor, THE BENEDICTINE TRADITION:
SPIRITUALITY IN HISTORY,Liturgical Press, 2007.]
Comment: For now I am not going to focus on something
specific in this book, but rather generally approach it. Laura
Swan, O.S.B. is a writer and spiritual director, and a member
of a Benedictine priory in Washington State.
As the editor of this book, she must have brought together
some of the best Benedictine minds when it comes to their
traditional history. The forepart of the book focuses on
those historical Benedictines who provided the supportive
foundations of their tradition. The articles are beautifully
written, very complete--and are also beautifully spiritual.
It's a good "read" all through!
If I may, I'll list the contents:
• Benedict and Scholastica.
• The Venerable Bede, Monk of Jarrow.
• Romuald of Ravenna.
• Anselm of Canterbury.
• Bernard of Clairvaux.
• Hildegard of Bingen.
• Gertrud the Great of Helfta.
• Dame Gertrude More.
• Blessed Columba Marmion.
* Raissa Maritain.
* Bede Griffiths.
• Trappist Martyrs of Tibhirine, Algeria.
• Benedictines and the Chant Tradition.
• Conference of Benedictine Prioresses.
And I especially appreciated the extensive treatment of the
"Chant." In recent years the Benedictine Monks of Santo
Domingo de Silos reintroduced the Chant to the world--and
from their CD sales, the world has loved it!
One of my younger family members is a fairly accomplished
musician, mainly popular music. But once he heard the
Chant he was hooked. He could not get enough of it. So
it would seem there is something that is deeply attractive
about the Chant, drawing people unexpected into its quiet,
soft repose.
Also, I liked the introductory and afterword remarks in this
book--because the writers realized that there is a "future" for
the Benedictine Tradition, in that in some strangely wonderful
way, the special spirituality of the Benedictines is also drawing
people unexpected.
[Laura Swan, editor, THE BENEDICTINE TRADITION:
SPIRITUALITY IN HISTORY,Liturgical Press, 2007.]
Comment: For now I am not going to focus on something
specific in this book, but rather generally approach it. Laura
Swan, O.S.B. is a writer and spiritual director, and a member
of a Benedictine priory in Washington State.
As the editor of this book, she must have brought together
some of the best Benedictine minds when it comes to their
traditional history. The forepart of the book focuses on
those historical Benedictines who provided the supportive
foundations of their tradition. The articles are beautifully
written, very complete--and are also beautifully spiritual.
It's a good "read" all through!
If I may, I'll list the contents:
• Benedict and Scholastica.
• The Venerable Bede, Monk of Jarrow.
• Romuald of Ravenna.
• Anselm of Canterbury.
• Bernard of Clairvaux.
• Hildegard of Bingen.
• Gertrud the Great of Helfta.
• Dame Gertrude More.
• Blessed Columba Marmion.
* Raissa Maritain.
* Bede Griffiths.
• Trappist Martyrs of Tibhirine, Algeria.
• Benedictines and the Chant Tradition.
• Conference of Benedictine Prioresses.
And I especially appreciated the extensive treatment of the
"Chant." In recent years the Benedictine Monks of Santo
Domingo de Silos reintroduced the Chant to the world--and
from their CD sales, the world has loved it!
One of my younger family members is a fairly accomplished
musician, mainly popular music. But once he heard the
Chant he was hooked. He could not get enough of it. So
it would seem there is something that is deeply attractive
about the Chant, drawing people unexpected into its quiet,
soft repose.
Also, I liked the introductory and afterword remarks in this
book--because the writers realized that there is a "future" for
the Benedictine Tradition, in that in some strangely wonderful
way, the special spirituality of the Benedictines is also drawing
people unexpected.
Monday, November 30, 2009
(55) Canterbury Pantocrator
Talking about a window at Canterbury Cathedral,
"For it is there in the centre and from it the window
still continues upward. First, the ascension, then
Pentecost, until the final panel shows Christ in
majesty, the pantocrator, seated on an orb, his right
hand upheld in blessing. *Solus ab eterno creo, cuneta
creata guberno.* Alone from eternity I create all things
and govern creation. Christ dominates the window as
he dominates the Rule.
"For the first offices of the day the light of the rising sun
would come streaming through that window. While this
for us today may be an aesthetic experience, for the
medieval onlooker it was much more. Of all the created
things which to them presented the image of the creator
in varying degrees, light was the most direct manifestation
of God. So not only did they stand daily in the presence
of a dramatic portrayal of the paschal mystery; they also
lived with the vision of the divine light transfiguring the
darkness of matter."
[Esther de Waal, SEEKING GOD: THE WAY OF BENEDICT,
Liturgical Press, 1984, p.80.]
Comment: At the time of this publication, Esther de Waal
lived at Canterbury. She was the wife of the Dean of the
Cathedral.
I was struck by her noting that the "first offices of the
day" were enveloped by the light of this window and the
great Pantocrator--the Lord of the Universe, the Cosmic
Christ.
Not privy to our modern day technology and our current
understanding of Cosmology, I have to wonder how the
Benedictine monks at medieval Canterbury must have
pondered over the universe, their universe?
The world-view back then was far different, set pretty
much in concrete by the Church. It was a layered universe,
with the Earth at its center. It was a fairly complicated
world-view that strangely supported the Church. Alas,
when this world-view tumbled--after scientists were
condemned--some executed--we now have our solar
system, Earth along with its other planets whirling around
our little sun, one of billions in our galaxy, which is one
of millions in our universe.
So, where's the Pantocrator in all this? Big question, with
only a few modern takers trying to work through unto an
answer. But if we wish to continue the Benedictine quest
"seeking God," I imagine we might as well get started.
However, it might mean exercising our creativity in ways
unimagined.
"For it is there in the centre and from it the window
still continues upward. First, the ascension, then
Pentecost, until the final panel shows Christ in
majesty, the pantocrator, seated on an orb, his right
hand upheld in blessing. *Solus ab eterno creo, cuneta
creata guberno.* Alone from eternity I create all things
and govern creation. Christ dominates the window as
he dominates the Rule.
"For the first offices of the day the light of the rising sun
would come streaming through that window. While this
for us today may be an aesthetic experience, for the
medieval onlooker it was much more. Of all the created
things which to them presented the image of the creator
in varying degrees, light was the most direct manifestation
of God. So not only did they stand daily in the presence
of a dramatic portrayal of the paschal mystery; they also
lived with the vision of the divine light transfiguring the
darkness of matter."
[Esther de Waal, SEEKING GOD: THE WAY OF BENEDICT,
Liturgical Press, 1984, p.80.]
Comment: At the time of this publication, Esther de Waal
lived at Canterbury. She was the wife of the Dean of the
Cathedral.
I was struck by her noting that the "first offices of the
day" were enveloped by the light of this window and the
great Pantocrator--the Lord of the Universe, the Cosmic
Christ.
Not privy to our modern day technology and our current
understanding of Cosmology, I have to wonder how the
Benedictine monks at medieval Canterbury must have
pondered over the universe, their universe?
The world-view back then was far different, set pretty
much in concrete by the Church. It was a layered universe,
with the Earth at its center. It was a fairly complicated
world-view that strangely supported the Church. Alas,
when this world-view tumbled--after scientists were
condemned--some executed--we now have our solar
system, Earth along with its other planets whirling around
our little sun, one of billions in our galaxy, which is one
of millions in our universe.
So, where's the Pantocrator in all this? Big question, with
only a few modern takers trying to work through unto an
answer. But if we wish to continue the Benedictine quest
"seeking God," I imagine we might as well get started.
However, it might mean exercising our creativity in ways
unimagined.
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