Catholic Monasticism as our Pandemic Guide
During the height of lockdowns, the suspended celebration of Mass, closed businesses, and distance learning, a rich phenomenon opened the door to a societal renewal if one had the eyes to see it. The more prayerful among us calmly advised to retreat to our inner rooms and use the time of lockdown as a retreat, a time of introspection and refocus on what was most important. Among the more tragic consequences of the pandemic lies the opportunity for many of us to revitalize the lives we are living, to examine our consciences, and to season the daily grind to a more monastic flavour, a real transition to living the vocation of the domestic church. For centuries, the church has perfected the monastic tradition. This time of no control is the ideal place to give up control and learn from the monastics.
Pope Francis is, perhaps, the only global figure to recommend a quieter approach to the pandemic. While government officials recommend action, much of which is desperately necessary, the Holy Father approaches things from a different point of view. He speaks of this pandemic as ‘an opportunity for conversion.’ He draws our attention to the plight of the poor, our ‘throw-away culture,’ and the consequences of a ravaged planet which falls by the wayside when a different headline takes its place. He wants us to see things holistically and find a ‘contemplative dimension’ once again.
As a parish music director who has been fortunate to keep his job, the dimensions of my work have changed drastically. The first part of the summer months was spent implementing new protocols to get the faithful safely back in our church building. The second part was spent re-imagining what the autumn and Christmas seasons would be like. All my choirs are now defunct because many singers do not feel safe returning or there is not enough physical space to make music safely. The most difficult hurdle to overcome was realizing I would not be able to do anything normally or well for a long time. Those in ministry leadership have an overwhelming desire to do something, anything, for those they serve especially in times of crisis. Pope Francis’s call to return to contemplation is the best thing to do and contemplation, at least at the outset, is a passive experience. Contemplation means letting go into the Spirit of God. A deep and rich (if not perfect) prayer life is fundamental to anyone in ministry, especially when you are a musician who works during the celebration of the source and summit of faith. Contemplation is key to weathering this storm, even if that means fighting against our basest instinct for survival.
Due to work, I gratefully participated in person in the Triduum liturgies which were live-streamed to our parish on Facebook. Our small cohort of ten, the largest legal size allowed to gather at the time, worked together to coordinate these intricate liturgies. I felt the weight of the prayer of an entire parish on my shoulders. I felt myself being about the work of the liturgy, being about the work of prayer. I did not feel as though I had, at the absence of liturgy, missed Lent. The Liturgy of the Hours became my constant companion and while I desperately missed receiving Holy Communion, I felt more connected to the life of the Church through Vespers in my living room than I ever did watching Mass on a screen.
As our single altar server went about lighting altar candles during the Easter Vigil’s Glory to God, the liturgical work of prayer and contemplation became more real than ever before. We were about something; our role was but a small piece within the full scope of the universal Church but was a vitally important piece of the Body of Christ without which, a level of praise of God could not be reached. I had to let go of all my expectations of what this particular Triduum could have looked like and fall back upon the noble simplicity of the rite itself. The depth of the simplicity of contemplation with the Roman Rite became the perfect accompaniment that it is: to living, to suffering, to dying, and to rising again.
Five months later, I gathered with colleagues to spend time in Eucharistic Adoration before a board meeting. The parish is nestled in the heart of a Latin/Hispanic neighbourhood. It is not the grandest building but over the years they have been able to acquire a marble sanctuary and very beautiful liturgical items including their monstrance. Every time I walk into the building, I feel the pull of a people and their culture in worship of God; it is as though I had never left the Catholic religious community I visited years ago in Tijuana. The parish has a rich community life, provides social services to those in need, and that day, hosted free COVID-19 testing in their parking lot. As I prayed before the Blessed Sacrament seeking the Lord to guide our organization and our local Church, I began to reflect on how this parish breathes. It was something unique and separate from sensing the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. It was a breath which came from a community of persons united to that Sacrament. As I sat in the stillness of the Church, the work of the Gospel swirled around me like the winds of a hurricane while I happened to be sitting at the eye, the source of its power and majesty. The winds of the Holy Spirit were tearing down walls and renewing the hearts of the people so loved by God. This was a feeling that needs to be present in every parish and that I was yearning for from my own work and for my own parish. This sense and breath are signs of missionary discipleship which seeks to go out and evangelize, to preach the Gospel to all nations and right here in this very neighbourhood.
Contemplation provides a particular beauty, despite suffering. The prayer of the seminarians, priests, and sisters in Tijuana were the bedrock of grace, flowing out into the community. I carry in my mind images of particular pastors nestled into the pews of their churches, eyes closed, completely receptive to the work of the God who has called them to their shepherding vocation. This experience is not limited to those of a religious calling. If the Church is to truly step into her missionary vocation in the third millennium, she must invite and task her laity with this contemplation. She must encourage them to use their God-given gifts and creativity to take the wealth of prayer and experience cultivated over twenty centuries and apply it to the new and real lives of people today. Practicing it does not provide immediate results. It participates in a work which has been going on long before we were born and will continue long after we are gone. It is one in which we can participate forever. The time of pandemic, suffering, and dis-ease is not going anywhere. Now is the time to begin.
