See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. - James 5:7

Thursday, October 05, 2006

St. Bruno's eve...


The feast of St. Bruno always makes me rather nostalgic. The Carthusians was the one order I finally found that I thought was meant for me - the only order I considered to be authentic.

The Prior of the Charterhouse I spent a month at, Fr. Raphael Diamond, a somewhat famous Jewish convert and friend of Von Hildebrand, as well as a psychiatrist, determined that I would be better suited for another form of monasticism or mendicant religious life - albeit, at that time, there wasn't much to offer by way of faithful religious life. I was absolutely crushed. I went to Europe as a pilgrim, emulating St. Benedict Joseph Labre after that.

My experience at the Charterhouse was very intense and sublimely spiritual. It was the most real experience of my life. Nevertheless, I left with a greater freedom of spirit, and after two decades, knew and understood what Fr. Raphael, now deceased, meant. (In monastic life, one is Fr. "By the first name" as opposed to the somewhat imperious Fr. "By the last name" in secular priesthood. I frequently "get caught" in that mistake. It often goes along with Professor "By the last name". One learns their place.)

This rather odd photo of a Carthusian, somewhat "Harry Potter" looking and kind of spooky - is not too far off. The Carthusians, being hermits, are a bit idiosyncratic, some I met were nothing short of eccentric. If anyone has been to the American Charterhouse in Vermont, and stayed awhile, they would know what I mean. (One Father wore sunglasses over his regular glasses, all of the time, he was kind of different.) Although, I expect if one had the occasion to visit the desert fathers, one would meet with similar experiences.

In the Charterhouse, one may encounter the most authentic form of eremetical/monastic life in existence, not unlike the early desert fathers, far superior to Mt. Athos - in my opinion. It's a wonderful life, and I am always full of repentance and compunction when I consider that I was not permitted to stay. I consider my experience a "remorse" akin to purgatory; it is the feeling, that I must wait for heaven, not yet able to enter.

I have confessed to two hermits in my life, one at the Charterhouse, another elsewhere, both were so taken aback and scandalized, I had to explain the psychological dimension of my sins in order to almost console them, as it were. The experience in my confession at the Charterhouse was the cause of my speaking to the Prior, which determined my being sent away. It is a source of sorrow to this day, yet it is the consequence of sin. My confessor in Boston scolded me for being so candid - they were old sins I brought up - Fr. Gregory thought I should have been admitted. Oh well, I still get in trouble for my candor. (One thing everyone has always said about me, secular or religious, I am always sincere and honest.)

Tomorrow I have to speak with my boss. I may be emulating Joseph Labre again.

7 comments:

  1. What do you mean? You're not going anywhere...?

    I am so sorry for your heartache. But maybe then you wouldn't be allowed to write...

    Right?

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  2. The Carthusians have never needed to "reform" their Order. They are, as far as I know, the only ones who haven't. Still authentic. Please God, always will be.

    Being part of an Order - once authentic - but now in confusion about its charism, I sympathize / empathize with your feeling of loss. Truly something to worthy to "offer up."

    All blessings to you on the feast of St. Bruno

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  3. Terry, Isn't the dude in the picture a Trappist? Looks like an OCSO cuculla to me.

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  4. I think you are correct! Spooky anyway. Happy feast day!

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  5. Also - I got the pic off the Carthusian website - hence my taking him for a Carthusian.

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  6. What if the photo is Thomas Merton? You can see it is the old dormitory.

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  7. I thought it looked like himself! I get the spooky thing, although it may have been ever so slightly staged. Ten again, I have known some monks who were spooky without trying to be.

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