Silence

Silence. It is almost 2 days since I said a word to anyone or anyone has spoken to me. I am participating in a Retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani, a Catholic Monastery in the Commonwealth of Kentucky. I am neither Christian, nor Catholic, but Brother Luke welcomed me as a “Child of God.”

As I drove to the Abbey through the heart of Bourbon Country, my open enthusiasm gave way to an uneasiness that I can’t fathom. What the heck am I doing here? The Retreat is designed to be unstructured and silent.

The first few hours are uncomfortable to say the least. I find myself walking around aimlessly trying to clear my head. I sit quietly in the Chapel 5 times a day listening to the monks chant — their voices so powerful, as if they are speaking directly to God. Over the next 12 hours I settle in and find the inner quiet I so desperately seek. I realize I am exhausted. Maybe this IS a good time to get off the spinning wheel for a few days.

The monastic life requires a dedication and single-minded focus that we can all learn from. The monks are fiercely protective of their space and their lives.  The walls around the monastic area are designed to “filter the noise.” They live in silence, and with a focus on God. They sing 8 times a day starting at 3:45am. They spend their time in prayer, in silent contemplation, spiritual readings and manual work — the tenants of finding salvation through the monastic life.  Of course, they get to do this in “Gods Country,” as so eloquently articulated by Thomas Merton, an Abbot at the Abbey in the 1960’s. The countryside is beautiful beyond measure. The walking trails, the rolling hills, the lush green forests and the tucked away lakes – if there is a heaven on earth, it must be this.

Behind this higher calling is a more immediate need for economic self sufficiency.  They make and sell fruitcake and cheese. They tend their soil, grow their food and make a mean Bourbon fudge to boot! The gift shop is modern, filled with artifacts, books and icons painted by the monks. The retreat house is simple, as is the food.  And the house is always packed; the place is booked up 4 months in advance! They have been economically self-sufficient since 1848. You get the picture. I assume they don’t spend time in endless meetings or political jockeying that is so reflective of big business today. The silent, unstructured environment is certainly not chaotic. They know how to manage their Abbey, and they do a great job at it, without ever losing sight of their higher calling.

I know my family and friends were taking wagers around how long I could shut up and live in a silent world.  I have news for them — it’s time to pay up. I like this quiet space, this inner focus, this total lack of value judgment. As the rain comes down hard outside my window, I think about the changes I must make in my own life to be a better person — a better husband, a better father, and a better educator. And to be more spiritual.

I have not checked my phone or email is 2 days. No TV, no newspapers, no internet, no “Noise.” The world has not stopped, and probably never will. I feel at peace.