48. Owls

I applied to come back into our Order in 1980 and was allowed to “associate” beginning in 1981 when I was assigned to a location or “house” as we call it.  I’d only heard of Our Lady;s at West Saugerties  when the monastery was mentioned … not often ... in our Order’s worldwide newsletter. OLWS  (we often say “owls” even though it’s not quite the word)   has been the only cloistered group in the Order, having been independent for over a century before our adoption (as a favor to someone in Rome)  into the gang of rough and ready Irishmen based in County Cork.   The Order really didn't know what to do with contemplative scholar assistants, since it normally recruited men from  Ireland, Wales and America like my former self to work in dangerous mission fields.  The only solitude we foreign missionaries ever got was in an outhouse on the edge of a native village.

When I was told I’d be assigned to the OLWS,  I was not disappointed.  I had no idea what I would do here, but I was in dire need of solitude.  However, the total quiet of a monastery halfway up the side of a mountain would not be available to me until I went through a period of what’s called “association.”  As a former brother, I probably would not have had to go through that phase, but I'd been away a long time and I think the Order was unsure of me.  So was I.

The idea of “associating” with a group  (and each order of brothers may have a different name for the process)  is for the house and the aspirant to look each other over and  for the latter to continue to discern his vocation while he makes a major break with the world.    For me, this took about a year, during which  time I was not living at the monastery.    Why the Abbot at that time did not invite me to live with the Owls after the customary six months I was never told.

So I continued to stay in town, renting a room  from Mrs. Spartano and trying to sleep there at night while I lay awake listening to the old woman tossing in her bed down the hall,  wheezing and snorting her way to the morning.  I spent most days up here on the mountain at Our Lady's, but I also I worked part time in town scrubbing pans at the hot dog place to pay for my room.  I ate supper most evenings at Our Lady's.   I found the brothers to be convivial and courteous, whether working or supping with them.    In the late evening after Compline (the last prayer of the day,)  I drove my old Chevy back down to the village.  It was Bouncer who convinced the Abbot to let me come live in the community,  but not before a year had passed.  

I’ve been here at Our Lady's about thirty years.  I’ve worked at the lowest of tasks and I've aided those at the universities who I think are good scholars.  I’ve watched the trees grow taller here on the mountain and I’ve seen some of them shrivel in  old age and keel over, replaced by the young shoots bursting out from the forest floor.   I’ve helped some of my brothers to die and I’ve helped nurse some back to health.  We’ve all done that.  We’re brothers.

Sometimes I think we’re just a bunch of  boys on a camping trip ... a hike through the woods ... and no one truly knows the way.  Each of us is sure we can figure it out, however, and so we each have our strong opinions and we have been known to voice them with gusto.  Even when no one asks! 

No Particular Place To Go - Chuck Berry