Solitude

Well, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the kids are engrossed in parallel play (Ceci turning in circles, throwing q-tips in the air like May flowers, Jacob putting his figures in and out of a suitcase in an elaborate game of hunters), and the living room looks like a refugee camp as we continue the packing process.

The packing process because, well,

We leave in 5 days!!!

This time has passed so quickly, and until last week I wasn't ready to leave yet.

During our four months in Israel, there has been much healing and transformation in my heart and life.  I was unsure of returning home for fear that these transformations, the full extent of which I still haven't processed, might dissipate in a cloud of unknowing.

But then, I went to Abu Ghosh on an overnight private retreat.

I've spoken often of the French Benedictines there, where we've gone to Mass a few times, including the Easter Vigil.  Walking into the courtyard of palm trees and wild flowers, an ancient church and stone benches, is like entering a different reality, a heavenly reality.

After our first visit to Abu Ghosh, I decided that before our departure I would HAVE to come for an overnight if they had guest quarters.  As blessings would have it, they have lovely guest quarters and an opening this week.  So, off I went to spend a day with the sisters, joining them for meals, prayer in their cloister and shared prayer with the brothers in the Crusader church.

From childhood, I have always reveled in capturing a quiet moment, resting in natural beauty and gleaning energy from solitude time.

As dear Sr. Marie-Laurent led me to my quarters in the airy, sunshine-filled hoteliere, I knew it was going to be a wonderful 24 hours.  Each room was named after a biblical woman, and mine was Miriam.  Girlfriend certainly interceded on my behalf for a prayerful time.

Another guest, Madeleine, arrived just as I did.  Like Sr. ML, she spoke very little English and I very little French, so we got by in stunted verbage and wild gesticulating, surely a sight to see.  The lack of shared vernacular actually encouraged me to avoid mindless chatter and escape into solitude a bit more, and enjoy my surroundings:

I settled in, took a brief nap and then the sole English speaking member of the community, Sr. Mikayla, came to chat with me about the prayer, meals and spiritual identity of the Benedictines.

One of the central charisms of Benedictines is hospitality.  They regard each guest as Christ, treating visitors with great care and attention.  In days of yore, the abott and monks would run to greet a visitor, prostrate themselves and wash the hands and feet of (surely awestruck) newcomers.  There is  great beauty in the overt humility illustrated by such gestures, and hearing of it moved me.

 Kevin and I feel that a special work of our family is hospitality, and I think that is why we are so drawn to the Abu Ghosh Benedictines.  Although this community doesn't adopt the same exact ritual of greeting, they do welcome guests in a special way.  But I shall speak of that later.

I attended vespers (evening prayer) in the church with both communities, the sister and brothers/priests.  There were quite a few laypeople in the congregation, some obviously part of a tour group and others who come to Abu Ghosh often, to attend the liturgies, feeling a sense of community and pride in this gem of Israel.

Another thing I LOVE about them is how much BEAUTIFUL chant and polyphony they have throughout their liturgies, much of it memorized.  True to the healthily humble self-regard, no individual voice sticks out in dramatic bravado, but the sound seems as if to come from one and many voices simultaneously.  At one point, they improvise sung prayer, with notes, ornaments and trills weaving together in golden aural threads.  Tongues of the angels, people, tongues of the angels.

Then again, how could you NOT want to praise God all the time when you live and pray here:

It's amazing how, even those of us who tend to be loud and (just once in a while ;) a bit obnoxious, being in a place of intentional quiet and order inevitable calms one physically and emotionally. 

Because of the very ordered structure of their day, the sisters know that what they do at any given time is the most important thing, be it mowing the lawn (in their work habits---awesome), or praying, or welcoming guests.  Like the Church Herself,  it is in the very clear expectations and intentions that the sisters can freely abandon themselves and their every breath to God.  It's just beautiful....

After Vespers, I joined the sisters for dinner.  I got to walk through part of the cloister. It's curved arches, natural light and unbelievable roses make one want to cry for all the beauty it offers. 

 As Madeleine, the other guest, and I stood in the entryway of the sisters' quarters, the abbess introduced us (all in French, or course), and I was touched to see that they recognized me, smiling and going on about my "belle famille."

Then, the sisters filed into the dining room and stood at their place settings around the u-shaped mission-style wood tables with a place for everything and everything in its place, right down to the individual trivets at each seat for passing the food.

Before we, the guests, sat down, we enjoyed this community's unique demonstration of hospitality. 

The abbess, who is certainly pushing 90 but spry as ever, stood before us with Sr. Marie Laurent, who held a basin, jar of water and towel.  As the other sisters sang a beautiful prayer, the abbess tended first to Madeleine, then me, washing our hands with the greatest care.  In heartbreaking tenderness, she took each finger, making sure the water reached every crevice from tip to palm, then drying in the same deliberate and reverent manner. 

Of course, I had begun crying right away.  Then, as the abbess finished drying my hands, she placed her face in my open palms and kissed them. 

I. lost. it.

 The sisters giggled at the obvious mutual love and gratitude, reveling in the beauty of the moment.

 I carry Christ within me, and I am worthy of love. 

That I am able to admit this is a miracle in itself.

More to come...