Iona Abbey
One week ago today at Turvey Abbey, I watched a friend take her final vow to become a Benedictine Oblate (lay Benedictine). The service was moving, I had a big lump in my throat as she stood on the spot in the chapel where vows are taken and coffins lie and said the words that made her part of the Benedictine family. My friend is in her eighties.
Can we allow life to unfold in its own time? I find this less easy in middle life than I did as a much younger woman. There’s that sense when you’re young, isn’t there, that endless days lie ahead? Now I have more days behind me than in front, there’s a sense of urgency creeping into my life, a temptation to grasp and hang on, a greediness. The feeling of grabbing at life has been growing on me lately.
This week has been a respite. Knowing that someone three decades ahead of me has quietly and calmly taken this step to affirm her connection with a tradition that traces its origins back fifteen centuries has given a wonderful perspective.
The ceremony of oblation took place during a weekend of shared contemplation of Benedict’s Rule. Attending that was a blessing. Another friend made her first Petition to become a Benedictine Oblate (a kind of trainee Oblate, the same stage I’m at) that same weekend. Another blessing. Yet another friend said something self-deprecating during a discussion and we all roared with laughter. “Now don’t laugh too loudly, brothers and sisters”, she said dryly, and I felt giddy with the realisation that yes, they are my brothers and sisters.
It’s strange, this week has been very busy at work, very worrying at home (my blood sister has been in hospital having an operation, from which she’s recovering nicely), and with its share of sad news from elsewhere. Yet I’ve felt an unaccustomed serenity.
Lilac in May
As I sit here typing these words, the overpowering scent of the dwarf lilac bushes in my garden drifts up through my open window. (That prompted me to take a quick photo for you – on the right.) My cat Lucy, her solid body dressed in its silky grey fur, sits next to me purring. The sun is setting in a blaze of glory. How can we not believe in the great creative and redemptive power of life and of its Creator at such moments?
In her commentary on Chapter 20 of the Rule of Benedict, Joan Chittister says:
The rabbis taught: “The first time a thing occurs in nature, it is called a miracle; later it becomes natural and no attention is paid to it. Let your worship and your prayer be a fresh miracle every day to you.”
There’s no need to grasp, life is enough if we let it unfold in its own time.
Main image above by Jema Smith
Elsewhere:
If you want to know more about monastic life, and about lay monastics, you will find John’s overview of English Benedictines helpful, and you can check out the UK Benedictine Oblates’ site here.
{ 21 comments… read them below or add one }
Hello, Tess. A few moments ago I came in from the balcony after an hour of cleaning — I could have finished in half the time but it’s such a lovely evening, I scrubbed the glass in the railing twice — checked Twitter & saw the tweet about your new post.
Reading this at least twice is a perfect way to start winding down my day. (Are you sleeping as I write this?) Something for me to ponder. And something for me to practice — unfolding rather than forcing, pushing, rushing and stressing — during my vacation.
I’m happy to hear your sister’s recovery is going well.
Thank you for sharing a photo of your lilac. It’s lovely. Ours are nearly finished here.
Tess, maybe you have the answer in your title. It reminds me of a great saying, “Every age has its privileges.” We only need to catch on to what they are.
When I read your posts, I feel reconnected to a part of myself that has been lost a bit since my move to Greece. As you describe the ritual of your friend taking her vows, and of your emotional response to it, something stirs within me and it says very clearly, “I miss that.”
I am glad that, despite some of the obstacles you’ve faced this week, that you’ve felt serenity. Your moment with the lilacs at sunset was beautiful and reminded me that God is anywhere and everywhere, just waiting to break through into our “ordinary” moments when we are ready and able (and sometimes not ready and able) to see Him/Her. Don’t you love this breaking through?
Thank you for this post, Tess.
I still remember something someone said at our very first Enneagram session. Something she learned in the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. She said “don’t should on yourself”. And it’s true, so many times the word becomes a stick with which to beat ourselves, “I should do this, I should do that” it’s worse than must. Somehow must is more of an imperative but should brings guilt and a sense of failure somehow. And the less time we have left the more we should do. Isn’t that how it works? I remember something Mum said, “the longer I live I realise the less important things are, I can relax in the garden” Okay, once you’ve got over laughing at the idea of Mum sitting in the garden for more than 5 minutes before getting up to pull up a weed, you know what she meant.
Now that I’m forced to rest I’m learning to relax and it’s becoming a joy to me. The longer we live, the more we’ve done and the less there is to do.
LIz’s Mum is so right. When you, God willing, get even more “aged”, that rush to get things done will seem rather silly. All my urgent plans to do things, once retired, have collapsed in the presence of my kittehs (Humphrey is curled up nearby where he likes to sleep in vigil) and my calligraphy. All will get done in its own time.
Remember, by the way, the tenth step of humility in the Rule is to not give oneself to ready laughter.
@Elaine: yes I probably was sleeping when you wrote that. I love this sense that we’re all awake around the world at different times reading each others’ words. I always look forward to the lilac. It has about one glorious week before it slowly begins to fade, and that week is now, so I’m making the most of it.
@Tenar: you’re right – it’s the catching on to what they are that trips me up.
@Chania Girl: I wonder if there’s any way of revisiting what you miss?
@Liz: You’ve been reading my mind, I have a post on “should” in my drafts! I hope you take the opportunity of relaxation to do something creative.
@Barbara: To let you in on it, Liz’s Mum was my mum too. And believe me, she was right about many things! I do think (and you and I have discussed this before) that there’s a differential somewhere between relaxation, serenity and being lost. I’m glad to say that the focus of last weekend was on that very chapter of humility (horrid at first glance). We managed to agree that laughter is pretty good really!
You are right on about that differential. Bugs me all the time, as it were.
I like to think Benedict was referring to disparaging, mocking, sarcastic humour, murmuring disguised as levity. It is a horrid chapter at first and second glance.
This post speaks to me on so many levels. Is this perhaps what was stirring when you commented at my place recently? Your title may indeed hold the answer as Tenar Priest suggests. It also reminds me of your favored quote, it’s only too late if you don’t start now. For me, it’s taking things moment by moment to see what feels right. Sometimes it’s the quiet serenity of which you speak here and other times it’s a mind boggling, oh my… Should a woman “my age” be having so many new experiences?!??!?!?!
Glad you decided to share these thoughts!!
For starters, how about freedom from the monthly cycle ((-:
@Barbara, yes indeed.
@Lucy, yes this post was what suddenly jumped into my mind when I was reading yours the other day. And I trust your question about having new experiences was rhetorical
@Tenar Priest, yes, that’s certainly one thing!
Tess, what a lovely experience you had that day – so full of your own emotions and touched in so many ways. Many times, we have no idea how an event will affect us for days, weeks, or months, but the moment arrives in its own timing, and we “experience” the underlying truth hidden from us for a time. Such a lovely story, and you are a writer, aren’t you. I loved being transported to that very day at Turvey Abbey (chills); a touching experience.
Hi Bonnie, thanks for visiting and for your lovely comments. I just popped over to visit your lovely blog, which I don’t think I’d seen before, I didn’t realise you wrote. I shall visit again!
Hi Tess, I am always struck by the depth of your contemplation and your writing.
In reading how much the services resonated with you when one friend took her final vows and another friend stepped onto that same road, I was reminded of an event long past that has remained with me. In the neighborhood of 13 years ago, I was allowed to attend the bar mitzvah of a friend of my younger son. The programs handed to each attendee had the text of responsive readings in Hebrew, along with translations and explanations. To speak those ancient words made me feel like I was more deeply at home than I’d ever felt. I was past tears and so very connected. The memory is still a wonder.
Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad – Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is One
Blessings and hugs!
Oh yes, Barbara Anne, such resonant words. One of the things I love about monasticism is the emphasis on praying the psalms (even though there are some horrendously bloodthirsty ones!). It’s this constant connection back through the ages.
Tess – Thank you for your post! I generally read a person’s blog for a while before commenting, but this post was just to hearty for me to sit without saying a little something.
I am in my late 30′s. I have only recently discovered gifts I have to use on earth and I’ve felt a sense of urgency at times. Your story about your friend has encouraged me. I hope to enter into a vein of study that will take 2 years to complete – a spiritual study. I know however that even then there is never a completion, there is always an opportunity for GENESIS which is how I felt about your sharing about the first time & miracles.
Thank you for the beautiful photo and the words to describe your cat. I felt as though I could hear it.
Jennifer
Peace Tess,
A lovely post. Having recently formally entered the Mevlevi tariqa (path/brotherhood/community), I found myself having a similar realisation not so long ago. It’s humbling and inspiring, all at the same time.
May God’s love always embrace you.
A beautiful post. A dear friend told me once, life unfolds as it’s meant to. In other words, no need to grasp life too firmly, for it is grasping us. We must be patient, authentic and loving. The rest will follow.
Easier said than done, tho’. Which is why we are all works-in-progress.
@Jennifer, a warm welcome to my blog and thank you for your lovely comment. The cat is staring intently at the keyboard as I type this – I think she’s trying to send you a message! Perhaps it’s how wonderful you have discovered the gifts you have to share – many don’t.
@Abdur, I am so delighted for you that you have entered the Mevlevi tariqa. Humbling and inspiring are the right words. The peace of Allah to you.
@Roxanne, we are works in progress indeed!
I am glad for you that you are able to experience serenity in the midst of difficulty. That is such a great strength.
My difficulty with the unfolding of time is the not-knowing what’s next. It’s humbling to realize how hard it still is for me to truly trust and have faith, when I have no idea what’s coming or how things will work out. And then my mind jumps in with all kinds of negative stories about what’s going to happen, and it’s alarming how easily I can believe these, when there is absolutely no reason to, but every reason to trust God. Yeesh. That feeling of “I thought I was further along by now” is a tough one.
Such a nice post, Tess. I can feel your peace. Those moments are such a treat, for me at least, that I want to taste them to the last bit
Blessings.
@Polli: Oh those negative stories our minds tell us, they are a problem! Sometimes it can help to give the mind something else to focus on – a walk in the sunshine (or the pouring rain!) for example. I find it can help when I allow my body to be the focus.
@claire: thank you, and I think there’s a little temptation for me in that “tasting to the last bit” – trying to prolong the moments so that they lose their savour. I’m trying to learn to treat food this way, the last spoonful of icecream definitely doesn’t taste as good as the first!!
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