from the pastor

September 22, 2002

I often think that fall is my favorite season. By physical temperament, the cooler temperatures please me. The harvest season instills a sense of well being. The beginning of school excites me. There is a sense of felt community in the fall--after everyone returns from summer flings--that I find comforting. I enjoy the fall foods: fried apples and pork chops, cider, and pumpkin pie. I am awed by the changing color of leaves. I am consoled by the quietness of the earth--brown and gray and resting after a busy season of growth. And I am attentive to the crescendo of Thanksgiving and Christmas, holidays that have deeply infiltrated our souls and emotions. In the fall, the house feels more and more like a home--a place of warmth and light as the air grows cooler and the nights grow longer. And the assorted smells and sights and sounds of autumn stimulate memories: the first day of school for Mindy and Alison, MY first days of school, a first girlfriend, football in Jr. High, new clothes, camping--the personal treasures of the memory.

I will be leaving tomorrow for Madison, Wisconsin, to spend most of this week at the Benedictine Monastery there. It is my custom to make this pilgrimage each fall. These pilgrimages are usually times of personal growth for me. And they are nearly always times of happiness. I enjoy the home cooked meals, the gentle friendship of the nuns, the monastery library, acres of woods, lakes, and rolling hills, the apple orchards, the worship three times a day, the scenic overview of the city of Madison, other visitors to the monastery--often from around the world, and the extraordinary spaciousness of the experience: room to sleep, pray, cry, wrestle with personal issues, write, resolve, reflect, dream, change, and heal.

Christian monasteries began in the early middle ages when a few Christians realized how hard it was to live a life of obedience to Christ in REAL life. Family and financial demands seemed to squeeze Christ into a minor role in person’s lives--not the role of Lord and Savior as our creeds assert. The solution to the crisis of faith, for some, was to leave "town" and find an environment that offered less competition to Christ. Those who left became known as "monks," which comes from a Greek word meaning, "alone." Some monks lived in community with other monks, others became hermits, living around no one.

In the 6th century AD, a monk by the name of Benedictine, along with his sister, Scholastica, began to organize monastic communities around the themes of hospitality, scholarship, service to the community, spiritual stability, hard work, and worship centered on the Psalms. Today, the Benedictines have monasteries all over the world. They welcome spiritual pilgrims of all sorts--even United Methodist preachers. Their communities are a paradox of discipline and gentleness, open mindedness and rigorous scholarship, protection from the world and sacrificial engagement with the needs of the world. In addition to the ways they guide and bless their own members, they also provide respite for the rest of us, an extraordinary opportunity to keep OUR lives oriented toward Christ in a world that would constantly squeeze him out. Please keep me in your prayers during this week of spiritual retreat. --Mike

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