THE SACRED HOST BY edward emery

Ours it is to learn from the contemplation of the Sacred Host how to be silent, how to disappear, how to leave the world. I look at Our Lord in the Sacrament of His redeeming love. There He is silent. There He is hidden. There He is separated from all things and, at the same time, present to all things. The Host is the pattern of Pope Benedict XVI’s cloistered life. The Host is the pattern of our life here. “One thing is necessary. Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42).

Hermitage picture.

From across the valley yesterday afternoon.

The Desert Experience in Mongolia

by Father Peter Turrone

“I am going to allure her and lead her out into the wilderness and speak to her heart.” Hosea 2:16

The desert is an arid and lonely place. It is hostile to all forms of life. It requires a great deal of patience, suffering and sacrifice to survive. Few people are willing to live in the desert. In fact, the population density of the Gobi desert is 0.3/sq km compared to 195/sq km in Ulaanbaatar . Metaphorically, however, the desert refers to any place of retreat from everyday life. This can be either an ancient monastery, the mountains, the beach, a chapel, one’s own room, and, most especially, one’s heart.

Throughout the Old Testament, the desert is seen as a testing ground for God’s chosen ones. It is the place where each person is called to come face to face with his or her own truth in the presence of God. There is literally nothing else but us and God. Everything that lies hidden within our hearts will eventually manifest itself if given enough time. In the New Testament, the importance of the desert is once again underscored. Our Lord himself retreats into the desert to be tempted by the devil before beginning his public ministry . The desert becomes a testing ground for the Incarnation of the Second Person of the Holy Trinity himself. Furthermore, the Evangelists also record other incidences of Jesus retreating into the desert to remain in solitude and prayer with the Father .

The desert also occupies a central part in the early Christian spiritual tradition. The Desert ‘fathers’ and ‘mothers’ were those people who abandoned everything related to the world in order to draw into a deeper intimacy with God. The lessons they learned continue to be of value for each new generation of Christians because the wisdom they learned was given from above, and, moreover, emerged from having learned to live in solitude and silence.

Called to be Evangelized

Speaking to a missionary a few months back he had mentioned something very interesting. When he first learned of his destination to Mongolia he had thought that his main work was to evangelize the Mongolian people. While this will always hold true for each of us missionaries, the most surprising discovery for him was the fact that God wanted to first evangelize him in this land of mission.
In The Inner Voice, Father Henry Nouwen mentions something along these lines which bears repeating over and over again:

“The more you are called to speak for God’s love, the more you will need to deepen the knowledge of that love in your own heart. The farther the outward journey takes you, the deeper the inward journey must be. Only when your roots are deep can your fruits be abundant”. (p. 35)

The question we are then faced with is to figure out how to go about entering into an authentic journey which goes beyond mere words.

Interior Evangelization 

There is an excellent book entitled L’evangelizzazione del profondo. This work is the fruit of several years of prayer and psychotherapeutic experiences of several people who were not afraid to enter into themselves and begin a process of self-discovery and healing. They took seriously St. Augustine’s observation that by really knowing ourselves we are better able to know God.

The opening line of the Introduction begins with a question. “Are we really evangelized right down to the depths of our being, in all of our components?” (p.11). Each one of us has our own personal history whose entirety is only known to God. We are born into an environment which, for good or bad, shapes our personality. Over time, we either make choices, or have them made for us, which has a further impact on our identity. For the most part, each of us comes out unscathed, at least on the exterior. However, each one of us carries one or more wounds resulting from others, or from those we have inflicted upon ourselves through sin.

Each of us passes through various stages of life that are common to all, although our past will influence how we are able to cope with these transitions. These transitions include leaving home, beginning a new career, being destined to a particular mission, being diagnosed with an illness, growing old etc. What is crucial here is that these bio-psycho-social milestones unmasks our personality structure and, more importantly, how we understand and relate to God. They can often present themselves are “crises” or difficulties. What is remarkable about them is that they are given to us by God as opportunities for human and spiritual growth.

It is important to recognize that being aware of what lies hidden within ourselves requires solitude and silence. If we spend more time on the internet or in superficial conversations than in prayer and contemplation (which does not mean living in the chapel day and night) we will remain at a superficial level of existence. This is not meant to be an exercise in self-absorption but as a means to draw closer to the Lord, and moreover, to be more compassionate towards our neighbor. In this regard, knowing our weaknesses and strengths is still not enough to mature. We have to accept them too otherwise we will be slaves to them or project them unto other people. If, however, we recognize and accept our identity in its totality, we are more likely to advance humanly and spiritually. We are more likely to live in relative peace with ourselves, God and other.

This process requires a free decision to open ourselves to God. When we are caught up with many activities on a regular basis without being grounded in solitude and silence we might find ourselves becoming further removed from our core. For some people, they cannot stand silence and solitude because their whole identity is based on their work or relations with others. Being alone feels like being with a stranger. Moreover, many men often become sick with cancer and depression immediately after retirement. Their whole life was spent building their identity on what they did instead of on who they are .

For us here in Mongolia, we find ourselves in an unique situation. It is difficult to understand the culture and the language. We may be used to a certain style of mission which is not feasible here. We may find ourselves in a sort of desert. We are down to the essentials.

However, God was always calling us to enter into a deeper more authentic intimacy with him by virtue of our religious consecration (and ordination), however, we are now ‘forced’ to enter into it. Yet, we need to want to enter into it. Jesus is helpless in front of our freedom. He knocks at the door. We have to let him into our hearts. We need to be able to want God to empty us of all the idols and masks we have developed over time so as to be transformed into “new” men and women .

The struggle for holiness occurs within the privacy of the soul and we will not be aware of this without a certain measure of solitude and silence. When we are driving a car and want to give full attention to something up ahead we always lower or turn off the music. If we want to pay attention to what our hearts and God are telling us we need to do the same. This is why solitude and silence are essential to self-awareness and spiritual growth. God does not shout, He whispers.

Silence

An essential element of the desert is silence. The only noise we often hear is that produced by the wind. This is good because we are likely to become more self-aware. It is usually in these circumstances that all of the inner noise within us begins to emerge. We become more conscious of our thoughts, basic drives and feelings. The Desert Fathers often wrote of their experiences with the devil. While some of the devils they fought with were real rebellious evil spirits that sought to ruin them, there are also those ‘devils’ which were personifications of interior negative sentiments and thoughts.

While many of those at the beginning of their spiritual journey often have a romantic view of silence, we know that it can be rather heavy at times. We can think of the dramatic example of a prisoner who lives alone in his or her cell. This experience can lead to depression or despair if it is not grounded in God. It is only when we fill our silence with prayer and contemplation can we transform it into a spiritually profitable experience.

If we have the courage to live in silence we will eventually come face to face with our deeper self. It sounds frightening at times because we may not know who we are going to meet. We may have constructed an image of ourselves that is not real, or only partially real. There, we will find out the truth about the extent of our conversion. There we will find out how much we are in need of salvation.

Solitude

The deeper we enter into ourselves, the deeper will be our experience of solitude . We go beyond our affective attachments with others which form a large part of our identity and enter into that part of ourselves where we stand alone. Again this can be a painful experience. In Arvaiheer, we see several cases of women remaining in abusive relationships for fear of living alone.

In reality, the experience of solitude can be very positive. We are Christians and know in faith that at baptism we were drawn into the life of the Holy Trinity and have become Tabernacles of the Most High. Jesus never leaves us alone. He is always present in us. Therefore, the experience of silence and solitude can give rise to joy and peace of heart because we discover that we are not alone, and that we are loved by God as we are and not as we think we would like to be. Jesus’ love for us in without measure. It is in this experience that hope is born and we even begin to live in right relationship with our neighbor. The other person is no longer sought out so as to fulfill an emotional need but to love for their own sake.

This is important for us working here in Mongolia, but also everywhere in the world, where we are called to spread the Good News of Jesus Christ. By allowing God to heal us and transform us we begin to become not only hopeful, but, as Pope Benedict XVI once wrote, become hope itself in a world where many of its citizens live without hope and are dominated by fear and cynicism.

Prayer as Mission In Mongolia

Prayer and liturgy are the centre of the Christian missionary life . During the Asian Assembly most of us participated in last year in South Korea, we were almost unanimous in stating that prayer is necessary for our own personal growth as consecrated men and women, and, moreover, it was a form of evangelization itself.

One example used by Father Paul Devreux would be useful here. He states that “if I begin to look at a painting in a museum, the painting will slowly begin to evoke the curiosity of others who eventually might stop to take a look themselves. The people will not stop to look at me, in fact, they may not even care whether or not I exist. However, they will stop to look at the cause of what is drawing so much attention and honour the painting itself” . The above example is an excellent metaphor for our daily Prayer of Adoration held each morning after the Eucharist in our ger church in the mission of Arvaiheer.

The central importance of prayer and contemplation in missionary life is evident when in 1927, Pope Pius XI declared Saint Therese of Liseux the patroness of missionaries. Even though she never left the cloister, she dedicated her entire existence to bringing all non-Christians before the Holy Trinity in prayer.

While we may not live in a cloister, we are all called to enter into an authentic journey of transfiguration in order to become holy missionaries. This does not mean that we are going to be without faults and stop sinning altogether, however, our main goal will be to let God work through us and with us for our own salvation and of those we serve.

“In the Heart of the Desert” by John Chryssavgis.

Quotes

“‘Desert’ (eremos) literally means ‘abandonment’; it is the term from which we derive ‘hermit’.  The areas of desertedness were where the demons bred. . .There is no water in the desert, and in the mind of the Jews that was the ultimate curse.  No water also meant no life.  The desert signified death; nothing grows in the desert.  Your very existence is, therefore, threatened.  In the desert you will find no one and no thing.  In the desert you can only face up to yourself and to every aspect of your self, to your temptations, and to your reality.  You confront your own heart, and your heart’s deepest desires, without any scapegoat, without any hiding place.”

“Yet the desert was also endowed with sacred significance for Jews and Christians alike.  The Israelites had wandered in the desert for forty years.  It was there that Moses saw God.  It was there that John the Baptist preached the coming of the Messiah.  Indeed, it was in the desert that Jesus Himself began His ministry; it was in the wilderness that He was first tempted by the demons. . .  .”

“So the desert, while accursed, was never seen as an empty region.  It was a place that was full of action.  It was a space that provided an opportunity, and even a calling, for divine vision.  In the desert, you were invited to shake off all forms of idolatry, all kinds of earthly limitations, in order to behold – or rather, to be held before – an image of the heavenly God.  There, you were confronted with another reality, with the presence of a boundless God, whose grace was without any limits at all.”

“The desert is an attraction beyond oneself; it is an invitation to transfiguration.  It was neither a better way, nor an easier way.  The desert elders were not out to prove a point; they were there to prove themselves. . . Nothing should be held back in this surrender.  It is all or nothing.  The abandonment to God is absolute.”

“The desert is a place of spiritual revolution, not of personal retreat.  It is a place of inner protest, not outward peace.  It is a place of deep encounter, not of superficial escape.  It is a place of repentance, not recuperation.  Living in the desert does not mean living without people; it means living for God.  Anthony and the other desert dwellers never forgot this.  They never sought to cut off their connections to other people instantly.  They rather sought to refine these relationships increasingly.”
However, Chrssavgis is quick to point out that the meaning of the desert extends far beyond the sands of Egypt.  It speaks of a personal way applicable to each of our lives.  It is a “spiritual way that was present everywhere, including the large and busy cities.  ‘It was revealed to Abba Anthony in his desert that there was someone who was his equal in the city.  He was a doctor by profession.  Whatever he had beyond his needs, he would give to the poor; and every day he sang hymns with the angels.’

“It is the clear understanding of these elders that one does not have to move to the geographical location of the wilderness in order to find God.  Yet, if you do not have to go to the desert, you do have to go through the desert. . . Everyone does go through the desert in one shape or another.  it may be in the form of suffering or emptiness, or breakdown or any other kind of trauma that occurs in our life.  Dressing this desert up through our addictions or attachments . . . will delay the utter loneliness and inner fearfulness of the desert experience.  If we go through this experience involuntarily, then it can be both overwhelming and crushing.  If, however, we accept to undergo this experience voluntarily, then it can prove both constructive and liberating.  The physical setting of the desert is a symbol, a powerful reminder of a spiritual space that is within us all.”

The deserts of Egypt and the experiences of the elders may seem far removed from those who live many centuries later, but in reality they speak of that which is closest to us – to the desert within the human heart, the place where we too must make the ultimate surrender to God and abandon ourselves to Him, the place where we must fight the good fight of faith, struggle with our own inner demons and wait for God in the silence of prayer.

Being fully alive.

The writings of the Desert Fathers have always had a special hold on me.  Although I have been exposed to many other great writings in the spiritual tradition, I have found myself returning again and again to their works.  It is, I believe, their focus on the practical that speaks to me – their focus on the lived faith.  Paradoxically, while they removed themselves from all contact with others and retreated to the barrenness of the desert, they also seemed to enter more fully into the depths of the human heart to discover not only the hidden mysteries therein, but the mysteries of the kingdom.  Their writings, or most often simple sayings, speak with the clarity that only the silence of the desert could produce.  Having stripped themselves of so many of the things that clutter our lives and hide the truth from our view, they came to see with utmost clarity the truth of their own poverty and the mercy of God.  Naked, as it were, they came to know the naked Christ – the richness of crucified Love. In this their lives speak to us about who we are and who God is.

John Chryssagis in his book “In the Heart of the Desert” speaks of this special and very personal appeal of the Fathers:

“There is a fourth century Eucharistic prayer of Sarapion of Thmusis that expresses the center of the experience for the early Christians and of what their faith means for them.  The prayer addresses God: ‘We entreat you, make us truly alive.‘  All of us know about the deeper longing to be truly alive. We have all felt the need to be more than ‘mere survivors‘ or ‘mere observers‘ in our world.  Through the centuries people have had the same hope, the same dream. . .”

“One place, where men and women sought aggressively to understand the deeper meaning and the fuller measure of human existence, was the desert of early Christian Egypt.  That dry desert . . . became the laboratory for exploring the truths about Heaven and earth and a forging ground for drawing connections between the two.  The hermits who lived in that desert tested and studied what it means to be human – with all the tensions and temptations, all of the struggle beyond survival, all the contacts with good and the conflicts with evil.  And in the process, some of them made many mistakes; others made fewer mistakes.  Whoever said that there is a clear and simple answer to the questions of life?  Yet, these men and women dared to push the limits, to challenge the norms. . .”

“The stories from the Egyptian desert are more than just a part of the Christian past.  They are a part of our human heritage: they communicate eternal values, spiritual truths.  Theirs is a silence of the deep heart and of intense prayer, a silence that cuts through the centuries and cultures.  We should stop to hear that heartbeat.  Sometimes, in fact, we shall need to stoop low in order to hear the sounds of their past.  For, while they present us with models of the spiritual way, they do so in peculiar ways and with strange examples.  In fact, these stories and sayings offer not simply models for imitation, but witnesses of a fullness and freedom to which we all aspire. . .”

“The words of these Egyptian hermits resemble flashes of light; they are sparks of fire.  And the reader should neither be overly impressed nor even be greatly distressed by their comments.  Instead, the reader is supposed to catch alight, to catch afire.  It is critical to remain open enough, to be sufficiently vulnerable to their austere yet suggestive counsel. . .”

“The words of these elders smash the structures of complexity and rationalization with which we often clutter and confuse our lives.  Their lives somehow seem to locate pockets of deadness in our lives, enabling us to become truly alive  What they are in fact saying to us most of the time is quite simply: be what you are called to be!”

****All quotes taken from “In the Heart of the Desert” by John Chryssavgis, pp. 1-13.

THE WOUND OF LOVE

In the eyes of the Lord giving a detailed explanation to the Father of all the needs of all we have been asked to present to him is not what matters; what matter is that we should stand before Him with a pure heart, and with boundless trust in His tender love for His children. This attitude is no easy way out; it is far more reassuring to rely on our words or activity than to have complete and blind trust in the love of the Father known in faith. We should be bearers of the poverty of mankind not by spelling it out, but by experiencing it, in the vivid awareness that we are in the presence of God with empty hands, and that we must count totally on Him.

BY A CARTHUSIAN.

The Deafening Silence of Monastic Life

Interview With Museum Director of Serra San Bruno Monastery

By Antonio Gaspari and Maurizio Tripi

ROME, JAN. 26, 2011 (Zenit.org).- Benedict XVI has traveled to various monasteries, and plans to visit the Carthusian monastery of Serra San Bruno on Oct. 9, reaffirming the value of this vocation to silent contemplation.

ZENIT spoke with Fabio Tassone, director of the monastery's museum, about the significance of the Pope's upcoming trip to Italy's Calabrian Diocese of Lamezia Terme.

Tassone spoke about the history of this particular monastery, and how monastic life in general continues to send a deafening message to the world of today.

ZENIT: Why has the Holy Father decided to visit the Carthusian monastery of Serra San Bruno?

Tassone: We don't know the specific reason that drove the Holy Father to make this unexpected but very gratifying decision.

It is true that this Pontiff, in the course of his pontificate, has visited monasteries on several occasions and has in himself a contemplative spirit; he will want to affirm his esteem and appreciation for this form of consecrated life.

In this place St. Bruno, who is considered the founder of the Carthusian order, ended his earthly experience, and from then on, around 900 years ago, this monastic presence profoundly influenced the Calabrian heart and territory.

From this place, rich in history and a crossroads of experience of faith and culture, the Pontiff would probably like to send a new message to the monks of today, as well as confirm the value of the contemplative life.

ZENIT: Who was St. Bruno?

Tassone: St. Bruno was born in Cologne, Germany, in 1030, when there were strong manifestations of evangelical radicalism and many movements were active that propounded an ever more intense return to God and to conversion.

A very young Bruno went to Rheims, France, to study and soon he became first a docent and then rector of the chapter school of that city. He immediately showed striking intellectual capacity, which he succeeded in uniting with a conduct of exemplary life, and a coherence between what he studied and his everyday life.

This coherence led him while still young to line up against his bishop, Bishop Manasse, who was guilty of simony. The sad affair ended and Bishop Manasse was deposed, and while thought was being given to making him the successor, Bruno began to look for something different.

Beyond his teaching experience he wanted to find a place and way to live in greater communion with God. For this reason, after some experience of hermitic and monastic life, he went to Bishop Ugo of Grenoble, France, to request to that he make available land to begin a new religious experience.

Thus in the valley of Chartreuse, Bishop Ugo supported this small group of devotees and in a wonderful natural framework, the monastic experience began.

The hermits began to live their lives in small wooden cabins built around a small church in which, periodically, the monks gathered for community prayer.

It was a design that was already clear in Bruno's mind: to create an environment that would make possible solitude, but avoid the evils of isolation. And he created in this way, based on the example of the desert Fathers, a place favorable to the encounter with God.

After close to six years Bruno was obliged to leave the hermitage to go to the court of Pope Urban II, who after having had him as teacher in Rheims, wanted him as personal adviser.

The times were troubled and the papal court, fleeing to southern Italy, was certainly not an environment consonant to a person who harbored the desire of an isolated life and wished to live in profound relationship with God.

The meeting between Urban II and Ruggero d'Altavilla resulted in creating conditions to allow Bruno to recreate the monastic experience in the land of Calabria, Italy, based on the model of that carried out in France. This design, though responding in part also to political motivations that made the Pope and d'Altavilla determined to restore Calabria to the spiritual dominion of the Church of Rome, created the providential conditions for the beginning of this now 900-year-old monastic experience to be carried out in the Calabrian Serre.

ZENIT: Why did St. Bruno build monasteries and found the Carthusians?

Tassone: St. Bruno, strictly speaking, cannot be considered the founder of the Carthusians, because in fact he didn't write the Rule.

Rather, he was the initiator of a new monastic experience, which though taking into account the preceding monastic experiences, above all the most ancient, proposed an innovative model of consecrated life to God.

The Carthusian monastery is an environment in which the solitary life and community life are wisely balanced -- communities of solitaries that had no precedents in the Latin tradition of monasticism.

This life is made up above all of extended moments in which the monk lives the solitude of the cell, which is the place of his consecration and the altar of his sacrifice; it is the mountain of the Lord's revelation.

The Carthusian statutes, however, provide that in the span of the day and of the week, there are also occasions that help the monk attain that intimate communion with brethren and with the world that renders solitude fruitful.

ZENIT: What are the reasons and what is the timeliness of the spirituality and the ways of contemplation of the Carthusians in today's world?

Tassone: Monastic life does not seek justification.

The monastic choice has in itself a component of provocation addressed to the world and its contemporaries, today as previously, whether in Christian churches or in any religion. Monasticism says to the man of today that another life is possible, that there are values for which it is worthwhile to commit one's whole life.

Although monasteries are silent, their silence is deafening. It could be said that the contribution of the contemplative life to the world is as the vital sap of trees, which runs silently and rises from the roots to the last leaf.

If there were no monks, the world would probably be worse, but the fact that they continue with their experience, to lead their lives in a silent way, leads them to seem strange and detached. However, they know the problems and vicissitudes of the world and of the Church, but their charism and their task keep them outside of the fray; they cannot be dragged in by anyone.

Contemplative life would be necessary to the world even if the world itself were to banish it completely.

ZENIT: Does the Pope know the story of St. Bruno? What does he think of Carthusian spirituality?

Tassone: The figure of St. Bruno of Cologne is very well known in Germany; certainly the Pope does not ignore it.

The very fact that the Holy Father decided to come to visit this Carthusian monastery could also be in relation to a certain interest of his in the figure of St. Bruno and Carthusian spirituality.

On October 6, 2006, in an impromptu homily to the International Theological Commission, Benedict XVI said, referring to St. Bruno: "But silence and contemplation have a purpose: They serve to preserve, in the dispersion of daily life, a permanent union with God. This is the purpose: That union with God always be present in our souls and transform all our being. Silence and contemplation -- characteristic of St. Bruno -- serve to give us the ability to find in the dispersion of every day this profound, continuous union with God. Silence and contemplation: the beautiful vocation of the theologian is to speak. This is his mission: In the loquacity of our time, and of other times, in the inflation of words, to render present the essential words, to render the Word present in words, the Word that comes from God, the Word that is God."

Also, recently the Pope reflected further on Carthusian spirituality when in the general audience of November 3, 2010 he reflected on the figure of Margherita d'Oingt, 13th century Carthusian, reviewing her extraordinary spiritual experience.

ZENIT: If you had to explain to a youth the reasons for the beauty of the contemplative life, what arguments would you give?

Tassone: It seems to me that today young people are attracted to the contemplative life, and even in this period of vocational crisis, monasteries continue to receive requests for admission by young men.

Monastic life has a certain fascination, even if the distance with our way of living in the world is ever greater and this could lead to a certain diffidence and hardship.

If I had to say what I like about monastic life, though not being a monk, but living on the margins of this monastic community, I would say that I like the opportunity I have to be deeply in the monasteries themselves.

Only before God we cannot pretend to be different, to be other than ourselves. Only God can love us without reservations and without conditions just as we truly are.

Freedom is another element, which although it is limited by the physical space of the cell walls, is an essential element of Carthusian life. Only if man willingly gives himself limits can he enjoy true freedom.

And finally, I like the coherence, not that to live in a monastery is necessarily a sign of coherence and dedication, as if it is not, necessarily, having promised fidelity to live with one's wife, but as I said earlier, the path is traced and one tries to live it daily as if it were a climb to ever loftier aims.

ZENIT: Why can one never visit the Carthusian monastery of Serra San Bruno?

Tassone: Carthusian monasteries are environments of strict cloister that are not compatible with daily visits of tourists, and all the Carthusian monasteries that at present can be visited in Italy are either entrusted to other religious orders, which have need of less pressing isolation, or are true and proper monuments/museums open to the public.

The Carthusian monastery of Serra San Bruno, precisely to respond to the needs of tourists and pilgrims, following the example of the Grande Chartreuse, has been equipped with a museum that is ideal to respond to the needs of the public. It is not a museum understood as the exhibition of treasures of the monastery, as in other cases, but rather a course that helps the visitor look through history, objects and the reconstruction of the environments, through the use of teaching and multimedia works, to be immersed in the atmosphere of the monastery and to know in depth the existence and habits of monks that live in Serra Saint Bruno.

An attempt is made to liberate the Carthusian experience of the superstructures of the traditional curious and of popular beliefs, to help persons who approach the museum with the desire to know monastic life more profoundly to come into contact with the essential nucleus of the existence of Carthusians, that true venue centered on solitude and communion with brethren and with God.

http://transfiguration.chartreux.org/

http://www.equinoxmountain.com/index.php

http://www.equinoxmountain.com/visitors_center_index.php