Still Here

Yesterday, July 11, was my 10th anniversary of profession, so this is my last blog of this series. It’s been a profound and very growthful experience for me, ordering my thoughts and feelings about monastic life. Thank you for sharing this stage of my journey.

This week, I’m asking myself these questions: “Why do I stay? What do I get out of it?” I’m finding it’s surprisingly easy to answer them. Fundamentally, despite the niggles, disappointments, losses and detours along the road, I stay because this life is shaping me into a better, more loving person. I have undoubtedly had periods where I have felt that the mystery that is God was receding from me, but if I look back over the 10 years, I can see that the setbacks were temporary. I am more immersed in God and closer to loving others unconditionally than when I started.

Why is that? Cardinal Basil Hume once said that monastic life takes place in the tension between the desert and the market place. It sounds uncomfortable and, at times, it is, but I’ve learned that it’s that tension between extremes that is the place where I am most apt to find the wordless answers to the questions that have followed me all my life: What is God? What is my place in the universe? What does it mean to live a good life? Monastic life is not all contemplation, and neither is it a full-on immersion in the material.

Sometimes, I veer more one way, sometimes more the other. It’s that constant search to find the still point, neither rejecting the world nor being dominated by it, that is the essence of being a monastic. And it is in finding the still point, or at least constantly striving to find it, that I realize the monastery is the right place for me to be.

 

Karen Rose, OSB                                                                            July 12, 2019

The Road Not Taken

There is a famous poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken. You come to a fork in the road and you have to choose one of the paths. That happened to me when I made profession at Saint Benedict’s Monastery 10 years ago. The road that I didn’t take was staying in England among what was safe and familiar, with people I knew and loved. Going back there recently made me acutely conscious of what I lost through not taking that path.

It is the strangest sensation to be somewhere that was home but has now become less so. I felt connected but also disconnected at the same time. Places were familiar, but they had also changed. People had changed, too. So had I. It was a great experience to be able to visit with family and friends face to face, but sometimes there would be an undercurrent of melancholy. I could enjoy them now, in the moment, but I knew it was fleeting; the moment couldn’t last because I would get on a plane and go back to my life in the US.

After profession, there were many years where I flirted, sometimes very seriously, with the idea of leaving and going back to England. I’m always going to love my homeland, but this time I recognized that I didn’t have the same sense of overwhelming belonging. I hope I never lose touch. I hope to visit England many more times in the future, but rather sadly, this visit was the time when I realized the rightness of my decision to enter the monastery. I’m mourning my losses now, but it’s the kind of grief that has gratitude at its heart. I’m grateful for all that my life in England gave me and I know it will always have a cherished place in my heart. I’m also grateful that it prepared me to make the choice for monastic life here at Saint Benedict’s, where I’m traveling a different road, but one that I think is the right road for me.

 

Karen Rose, OSB                                                                               July 5, 2019

Community Lessons

Being away from community, as I have the past two weeks, made me think about what it means and how it’s altered me in these past 10 years. I think I can detect stages.

When I first entered the monastery, I loved everything: the sisters, the prayers, the way of life, watching TV programs I wasn’t interested in, sharing a bathroom, eating things I didn’t like. You name it, I loved it! I was completely bought into the idea of sharing everything.

That morphed into a phase where I wasn’t quite so sure if it was all so lovely. The community made a couple of decisions that I didn’t really think were good ideas. I started to have the experience of what it means to give up your own will. Somewhat grudgingly, I realized that, if the community made a decision with which I disagreed, I was still going to have to try to make it work. The alternative is to become a carping, bitter woman; that didn’t attract me. Nevertheless, I didn’t find it easy when my way turned out not to be the chosen way.

There also came a point, I am sad to report, when I recognized that as a person, community had made me less nice. I noticed that I was more conscious of getting my fair share, that I would think things like, “If she’s not doing that, then why should I?” or “Why is she being allowed to do all these things when I’m being refused?” I didn’t want to be that kind of a person, so I consciously decided to simply rejoice at the good fortune of my sisters rather than complain that it wasn’t me. I was helped in this by observing that the sisters who are the wisest and the most pleasant to be around are the ones who are glad for others.

So, 10 years on, how do I feel about myself in community? I think it was very beneficial to pass through these stages. They helped me to get to know myself better, they clarified for me the sort of person I want to work on becoming and they made me more sensitive and accepting toward others. We all need to live through different phases and face different challenges at different times of our life. Sometimes that makes us grumpy or sad. I’ve learned that’s not always a bad thing because it can be a learning time which is necessary to enable us to become better, kinder people.

Karen Rose, OSB                                                                       June 28, 2019

What's a Benedictine?

When I was first thinking of entering the monastery, I was often asked the question, “What do Benedictines do?” It’s a question that people still ask me periodically. I find it both simple and hard to give an answer.

It’s simple because Benedictines are committed to seeking God through a life of prayer, work and community living. It’s hard because we don’t “do” a particular thing. We are not, for instance, a teaching or nursing order, although many Benedictines are teachers and quite a few work in health care.

When it comes down to definitions, a Benedictine monastic vocation is not essentially about doing; it’s about being. Work is one of the ways that we seek God, but it’s not the reason for the existence of the Benedictine order. Primarily, we live together as a Christian community, following the teachings of Christ as laid down in the Rule of Benedict. We pray together, share a common table and try to adopt a pattern of life which enables each one of us to find a framework to assist in our journey to God. We desire to reach out to others through our liturgies and our ministries because we want others to be able to share the many positive things about Benedictine monastic life which are transferable to life outside the monastery. These are values such as awareness of God, peace, hospitality, love of learning, etc. But we can really only share these values by living them out day by day so that people can see that it’s a good way to be, a way to show God’s love in a troubled world.

For me, being a Benedictine is a work in progress. There are many challenges, such as managing relationships in community, my prayer life, the demands of work and the need for leisure. I struggle at times to not feel overwhelmed by all the things I have to do. Yet, as I look back over 10 years of professed life, I can see a consistent thread, which is the desire to keep drawing closer to God and a deepening understanding that it is only as I live more and more unreservedly into the life that I’m able to appreciate how it’s helping me to get there.

Karen Rose, OSB                                                                               May 31, 2019

 

Graced by Aging

In monastery terms, I am relatively young, but actually, I’m getting up there in years. It’s an interesting experience being younger and older at the same time. I was, for example, surprised when my dental hygienist asked me were most women older when they entered the monastery. (For the record, I was 50 when I entered). I was so used to being told that I’m still young and that your 40s, 50s and 60s are the prime of life, that I was taken aback.

At some levels, I easily believe that I’m young because I’m fortunate to have a lot of energy and I don’t have any major health conditions that limit my activity. On the other hand, I notice that I need more sleep. I can, for instance, still manage to stay up really late, if necessity dictates, but whereas 20 years ago I would have carried on as normal the next day, now I’d appreciate a couple of days to laze around and recover.

I also notice that I take more intense pleasure in smaller things. It sounds a bit trite to say this, but I revel in things like spring blossoms, blue skies, fluffy white clouds and the sight of dew sparkling on the grass. I don’t have the same desire to travel that I used to have, nor to seek out the exotic and unusual. I can wonder at the smallest things right on my doorstep.

As I said, I’m pretty healthy, but I did have my first brush with major illness about a year ago when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was early stage and I never felt ill with it, so it seemed theoretical quite a lot of the time. However, I had two moments when it struck me forcibly that I could die of this. Reflecting on these feelings helped me to come to terms with my own mortality in a way I never had before. When I was younger, I knew intellectually that life would eventually end, but it didn’t seem real. Having cancer made death real, but in a very positive way. It was a pleasant surprise to find that I could accept fully that one day I would die and that this didn’t make me feel frightened, but simply me made me more conscious of how much I appreciate my life, the world around me and the people in my life. It helped me to live each moment more intensely in the present.

In fact, I don’t think much about my age, but I definitely feel graced by the aging process because I’m aware it helps me to live my life with a greater sense of gratitude and a deeper love for the gift of every day.

 

PLEASE NOTE: There will no blog for the next two weeks (June 14 and 21) as I will be away. See you on June 28.

 

Karen Rose, OSB                                               June 7, 2019

 

Hearing "No!"

Obedience is one of the three monastic promises we make when we profess as sisters. We declare that we make these promises “according to the Rule of St. Benedict, the norms of the federation of St. Benedict and the living tradition of this community.” The fact that it’s a living tradition means that we don’t try to replicate living like the monks did when St. Benedict wrote his Rule in the 6th century. Our endeavor is to live the spirit of the Rule in a way that is meaningful in the 21st century. This means that we are constantly challenged to assess how obedience looks for us today.

We make all the promises freely and in the knowledge that we are willingly handing over some of our power to make decisions as individuals in favor of what we see as a greater good: becoming part of a community seeking God together.

Obedience is not simple. It is not about doing exactly as you are told, like a child. In monastic life, there is a concept of mutual obedience, which means listening to one another, tolerating ideas and views that may not be the same as your own and trying to do this in a spirit of love and openness. Ultimately, the prioress is in the position to make final decisions, but we are expected to contribute our piece of wisdom.

What happens when things don’t go the way I’d like? It’s taken me 10 years to be able to say this, but I’ve realized that it is a great gift to be able to hear, “No!” When I get a “no” to a personal request, or when a decision is made on behalf of the community with which I don’t agree, my monastic promise of obedience asks me to accept that, without grumbling, and make whatever has been decided work. If I take obedience seriously, I can’t stand aside and say, “Well, I don’t agree, so I’m not going along with that.” I’ve bound myself, under a prioress, to the spirit of the Rule, the norms by which we are governed and the living tradition of the community. I’m part of whatever is decided, for better or for worse, whether I like it or not.

You might be asking, “Where’s the gift in all this?” Well, it’s being able to hear the “no” and not be shaken by it; it’s the realization that my inner core of peace is not disturbed, for example, whether we do or do not change the use of a building. I may have a view, but getting my way isn’t central to my well-being or to my relationship with God. Like everyone, I prefer to see my views prevail or be told it’s okay to do the thing I want to do but I’m very grateful to know that I don’t have to get my own way in order to be at peace and to realize that God is there, unchanging, whatever I am asked to do and whatever the prioress and community decides.

 

Karen Rose, OSB                                                                              May 24, 2019

Loving Life

I’ve always been a person who enjoys thinking about the meaning of life. As a student, it was one of my greatest pleasures to spend an evening with one or two close friends holding deep and meaningful conversations, trying to fathom how we could save the world and what exactly was our place in the great scheme of things.

My meditations on the meaning life have probably become less grandiose over the years, but there has never been a time when these big questions ceased to fascinate me. Something that has surprised me, though, is the way aging has made me more aware of how much I love life and how important it is to make the most of every day.

When I was younger, I assumed that it was the best time of my life and it was, indeed, a time full of energy, growth, happiness and challenges. It came with a sense of time being limitless, even though, theoretically, I knew it would come to an end sometime. It was as if I could keep searching and trying things because I had all the time in the world to find exactly the right way to save the world. If I thought about getting older, it was with a sense that the best would be over, I would have done what I had to do and there would be no more glorious striving.

As I’m getting older, I find I think differently. I’m conscious that more of my life is behind me than ahead of me, but what that’s done is make me more aware of how much I love being alive. As the number of moments left to me become fewer and fewer, I love each individual one more and I’m very conscious of the need live each one with care and purpose. I enjoy this! In fact, I’d go so far as to say that, as I age, my interior life gets better and better and I love living more and more.

 

Karen Rose, OSB                                                                        May 17, 2019