80. Togetherness

Wilma from Fond du Lac, Wisconsin writes, wondering how we monks can live together without killing each other.  Her query did not seem like a joke.  Perhaps Wilma is keeping house with a large family.

Living with ten other monks has certainly been a challenge for the past thirty years. Perhaps I should say “only” ten other monks, because that’s the nut of it. The same people all day long, all year long and never anyone else. It’s like being stranded on a small island with the survivors from a shipwreck, but it was a very small ship and I didn’t choose my mates.

Now, of course I admit that for monks we’re pretty free at Our Lady’s. I get down to the village every other week or so to visit the hardware store for a toilet part. In fact, the crew that sells me floats and washers and brass rods might be considered my extended family. When I ask how they are doing or inquire about their loved ones, I’m really interested and not making small talk. They don’t realize they are all I have outside the monastery. If I ever worked in a hardware store again, I’d try to keep in mind when lonely people ask about my health or my “family,” they really mean it.  Maybe that’s another aspect of monastic life the Great Benedict intended.

And I have enjoyed an afternoon from time to time sitting on the green in Woodstock. I do try to go when the weather is on the cool side and the young women have returned to wearing underwear, but I have through no fault of my own been caught in the crossfire of conflicting weather forecasts and wound up stuck on the green when the temperature unexpectedly warmed along with my unintended concupiscence.  However, I am satisfied that my intentions were honorable. Pretty much.

Most monks I know were brought up in Catholic households and attended Catholic schools. I’ve mentioned that these were crowded places where children rubbed up against each other in classroom conditions that often resembled cattle cars. Plus, many of us were from working class families where money was tight and personal space miniscule. I’ve always been amazed that my Brothers and I at Our Lady’s didn’t head out for the wide open spaces of Wyoming or Montana when we reached our adult years, instead of signing up for tours on this sometimes claustrophobic tramp steamer we call a monastery.

The Four Lads - Standin' On The Corner