Monastic way offers respite and renewal
A busy life in a big city with a demanding job can creep up on you, pushing alternative perspectives on life to the margins, and threatening to relegate faith to a mechanical hour or so on a Sunday. In such circumstances, one way to take time out for some therapeutic spiritual reflection is to have a monastic experience.
At least, this is what has worked for me down the years. After establishing myself in London in the mid-1990s, and getting buried in my work, I was introduced by a close friend to a wonderful Benedictine monastery in the north of France, only thirty minutes from Calais. Over the last ten years I have visited it five times; these visits have taken place at different times of the year, and all have been satisfying. However, perhaps the most meaningful have been those visits coinciding with the Advent season, where the solitude and silence afforded by the monastic environment have served as an ideal context to consider the birth of Christ and its significance in human salvation history.
Monastic orders have had a chequered career in France. In 1790 at the height of the French Revolution, the National Assembly abolished priestly vows and banned monastic orders. However, the human desire to seek God cannot be suppressed so easily. Within a few decades the orders reappeared throughout the country. In 1833 monastic life began to emerge around Solesmes in the west of France, which became the springboard for Notre Dame de Wisques, my favourite retreat, which was founded by the nuns of Sainte-Cécile de Solesmes in 1889. In 1901 the French Government again passed a law banning religious orders, so Notre Dame de Wisques was vacated by its monastic occupants. However, it was reclaimed by the Benedictines after the First World War in 1919, and has been active ever since.
The crossing from London takes little more than three hours, driving to the south coast of England, taking the Eurostar under the English Channel and then driving from Calais. Wisques is a small village, located in the sweeping agricultural fields of Northern France which saw so much bloodshed in the Great War. On a hill overlooking farmlands is the hostel of Notre Dame de Wisques, known affectionately as the Hôtellerie St Charles.
My faith is definitely recharged each time I visit Notre Dame de Wisques. Several factors are at work in this process. First is the sense of silence and solitude that one can create, in the midst of natural beauty. My room at the Hôtellerie St Charles looks out onto a landscape framed by tall trees, with red-roofed houses in the foreground and the immaculately maintained farmlands in the distance. The hustle and bustle of cities such as London and Melbourne seem far away. Such serenity lends itself well to contemplation and personal prayer.
But one does not have to go to a monastery to find solitude, of course. Another factor stimulating reflection on faith through such monastic retreats is the life modelled by the community of the monastery of Notre Dame de Wisques. Being a cloistered community, most of the twenty-six nuns have only limited contact with the outside world. However, their world is not invisible to the outsider, especially as one of the nuns, Sister Lucie, engages with the guests at St Charles in her capacity of responsibility for the hostel. She is able to articulate her own spiritual journey in an inspirational way for outsiders, providing a taste of certain advantages of the contemplative life.
Sister Lucie entered monastic life on her 21st birthday, almost 50 years ago. She explained to me that she was particularly attracted to the Benedictine order because of its emphasis on Liturgy. She wanted her material life to be completely regulated by God. “Liturgy allows us to relive the mystery of Christ”, she said, adding that her community believed firmly that Christ lives in us through Liturgy, which is a most suitable way for humanity to respond to God.
The day for the nuns at Notre Dame de Wisques is structured around seven liturgical services: Matins/Lauds (7.00am), Mass (9.45am), Sext (15 minutes prayer at 12.30pm), None (15 minutes prayer at 2.30pm), Vespers (4.30pm), Compline (8.00pm) and Vigils (8.45pm), with all services except Lauds and Vigils being open to the public. All these services are in Latin, following a sung liturgy. This daily structure forms the basis for a yearly schedule which closely follows the life of Christ. “All this structure is like a spiral,” she said passionately. “Each year we relive the same thing but we climb a little higher towards God in the process.”
For Sister Lucie and her colleagues at Notre Dame de Wisques, the liturgical process is no mere symbol. She believes in the real presence of Christ in the Liturgy, which for her is “a memorial for the life of Christ”. God’s grace is transmitted through particular events: “We receive the particular grace of each moment; the Easter grace, the grace of the Nativity at Christmas, and so forth” she said.
Nor is this experience one that is simply internal to the community of nuns, according to Sister Lucie. The whole community radiates this mystery to others around it, she says, adding that “this goes beyond mere words and explanations, beyond external manifestations.”
Sister Lucie’s particular take on the Liturgy is not one that my middle Anglican upbringing has prepared me for. However, faith is not only stimulated by agreement, but, as I discovered from my conversations with her, can be recharged by the evidence of spiritual fulfilment achieved by someone else in unfamiliar ways. Indeed, I felt an unconditional admiration for the nuns of Notre Dame de Wisques for their devotion, their sense of spiritual purpose, and their discipline in following their seven daily liturgical services, without feeling any great personal desire to follow a similar path. Thus an awareness of difference in realising the spiritual quest can assist each of us in our own search. Such is my experience, at least, from my visits to Notre Dame de Wisques.
However, that is not the whole story of this monastic community. Beyond the commitment to spiritual discipline and liturgical fidelity, there is also a thorough dedication to serving others in diverse pastoral ways. The Benedictine tradition sets hospitality as a cornerstone of the Order. Every Benedictine monastery has its hostel.
Sister Lucie was quick to point out that “we do not simply limit ourselves to accepting people who are on a spiritual search, but rather all people with diverse needs.” So visitors to St Charles throughout the year come in significant numbers. Many are young, visiting as part of school groups. But there are also many who are in difficulty with diverse problems, such as depression, marital break-up and so forth. Sister Lucie pointed out that “we do not expect anything in particular from the guests at St Charles. Our role is the reverse; it is fulfilled in accepting others without expectations.” So a sense of unconditional service permeates everything about Notre Dame de Wisques. For me, that is another key factor in recharging my spiritual batteries during my occasional visits to the monastery.
Notre Dame de Wisques is one of countless monasteries which radiate spiritual commitment and selfless service to the needy throughout the world. However, there is a particular historical detail which sets it apart. The monastery is located in the very heart of the battlefields of the First World War, in a region that was defended by the armies of Britain and its empire, including that of Australia.
In October 1914 the British Army requisitioned the monastery as barracks for its troops, and two years later the monastery was designated as a gunnery school for British officers. It was subsequently inspected on two occasions by King George V. Of even greater interest is that the walls of the monastery carry graffiti carved by Australian troops. So in my moments of contemplation I have also appreciated knowing that some of my fellow countrymen found solace of a form within the walls of Notre Dame de Wisques almost 100 years ago.
I have now moved to Melbourne after many years in London. Notre Dame de Wisques is no longer in easy reach for me. But that is not so important, as there are other local monastic communities willing to provide a moment’s break from the daily grind of city life. It is something that I highly recommend for those seeking different ways to recharge their spiritual batteries. And what better time to do it than the season of Advent, in the lead up to one of the most significant events in the Christian calendar.
An edited version of this article appeared in “The Melbourne Anglican”, December 2009, pp22-23
At least, this is what has worked for me down the years. After establishing myself in London in the mid-1990s, and getting buried in my work, I was introduced by a close friend to a wonderful Benedictine monastery in the north of France, only thirty minutes from Calais. Over the last ten years I have visited it five times; these visits have taken place at different times of the year, and all have been satisfying. However, perhaps the most meaningful have been those visits coinciding with the Advent season, where the solitude and silence afforded by the monastic environment have served as an ideal context to consider the birth of Christ and its significance in human salvation history.
Monastic orders have had a chequered career in France. In 1790 at the height of the French Revolution, the National Assembly abolished priestly vows and banned monastic orders. However, the human desire to seek God cannot be suppressed so easily. Within a few decades the orders reappeared throughout the country. In 1833 monastic life began to emerge around Solesmes in the west of France, which became the springboard for Notre Dame de Wisques, my favourite retreat, which was founded by the nuns of Sainte-Cécile de Solesmes in 1889. In 1901 the French Government again passed a law banning religious orders, so Notre Dame de Wisques was vacated by its monastic occupants. However, it was reclaimed by the Benedictines after the First World War in 1919, and has been active ever since.
The crossing from London takes little more than three hours, driving to the south coast of England, taking the Eurostar under the English Channel and then driving from Calais. Wisques is a small village, located in the sweeping agricultural fields of Northern France which saw so much bloodshed in the Great War. On a hill overlooking farmlands is the hostel of Notre Dame de Wisques, known affectionately as the Hôtellerie St Charles.
My faith is definitely recharged each time I visit Notre Dame de Wisques. Several factors are at work in this process. First is the sense of silence and solitude that one can create, in the midst of natural beauty. My room at the Hôtellerie St Charles looks out onto a landscape framed by tall trees, with red-roofed houses in the foreground and the immaculately maintained farmlands in the distance. The hustle and bustle of cities such as London and Melbourne seem far away. Such serenity lends itself well to contemplation and personal prayer.
But one does not have to go to a monastery to find solitude, of course. Another factor stimulating reflection on faith through such monastic retreats is the life modelled by the community of the monastery of Notre Dame de Wisques. Being a cloistered community, most of the twenty-six nuns have only limited contact with the outside world. However, their world is not invisible to the outsider, especially as one of the nuns, Sister Lucie, engages with the guests at St Charles in her capacity of responsibility for the hostel. She is able to articulate her own spiritual journey in an inspirational way for outsiders, providing a taste of certain advantages of the contemplative life.
Sister Lucie entered monastic life on her 21st birthday, almost 50 years ago. She explained to me that she was particularly attracted to the Benedictine order because of its emphasis on Liturgy. She wanted her material life to be completely regulated by God. “Liturgy allows us to relive the mystery of Christ”, she said, adding that her community believed firmly that Christ lives in us through Liturgy, which is a most suitable way for humanity to respond to God.
The day for the nuns at Notre Dame de Wisques is structured around seven liturgical services: Matins/Lauds (7.00am), Mass (9.45am), Sext (15 minutes prayer at 12.30pm), None (15 minutes prayer at 2.30pm), Vespers (4.30pm), Compline (8.00pm) and Vigils (8.45pm), with all services except Lauds and Vigils being open to the public. All these services are in Latin, following a sung liturgy. This daily structure forms the basis for a yearly schedule which closely follows the life of Christ. “All this structure is like a spiral,” she said passionately. “Each year we relive the same thing but we climb a little higher towards God in the process.”
For Sister Lucie and her colleagues at Notre Dame de Wisques, the liturgical process is no mere symbol. She believes in the real presence of Christ in the Liturgy, which for her is “a memorial for the life of Christ”. God’s grace is transmitted through particular events: “We receive the particular grace of each moment; the Easter grace, the grace of the Nativity at Christmas, and so forth” she said.
Nor is this experience one that is simply internal to the community of nuns, according to Sister Lucie. The whole community radiates this mystery to others around it, she says, adding that “this goes beyond mere words and explanations, beyond external manifestations.”
Sister Lucie’s particular take on the Liturgy is not one that my middle Anglican upbringing has prepared me for. However, faith is not only stimulated by agreement, but, as I discovered from my conversations with her, can be recharged by the evidence of spiritual fulfilment achieved by someone else in unfamiliar ways. Indeed, I felt an unconditional admiration for the nuns of Notre Dame de Wisques for their devotion, their sense of spiritual purpose, and their discipline in following their seven daily liturgical services, without feeling any great personal desire to follow a similar path. Thus an awareness of difference in realising the spiritual quest can assist each of us in our own search. Such is my experience, at least, from my visits to Notre Dame de Wisques.
However, that is not the whole story of this monastic community. Beyond the commitment to spiritual discipline and liturgical fidelity, there is also a thorough dedication to serving others in diverse pastoral ways. The Benedictine tradition sets hospitality as a cornerstone of the Order. Every Benedictine monastery has its hostel.
Sister Lucie was quick to point out that “we do not simply limit ourselves to accepting people who are on a spiritual search, but rather all people with diverse needs.” So visitors to St Charles throughout the year come in significant numbers. Many are young, visiting as part of school groups. But there are also many who are in difficulty with diverse problems, such as depression, marital break-up and so forth. Sister Lucie pointed out that “we do not expect anything in particular from the guests at St Charles. Our role is the reverse; it is fulfilled in accepting others without expectations.” So a sense of unconditional service permeates everything about Notre Dame de Wisques. For me, that is another key factor in recharging my spiritual batteries during my occasional visits to the monastery.
Notre Dame de Wisques is one of countless monasteries which radiate spiritual commitment and selfless service to the needy throughout the world. However, there is a particular historical detail which sets it apart. The monastery is located in the very heart of the battlefields of the First World War, in a region that was defended by the armies of Britain and its empire, including that of Australia.
In October 1914 the British Army requisitioned the monastery as barracks for its troops, and two years later the monastery was designated as a gunnery school for British officers. It was subsequently inspected on two occasions by King George V. Of even greater interest is that the walls of the monastery carry graffiti carved by Australian troops. So in my moments of contemplation I have also appreciated knowing that some of my fellow countrymen found solace of a form within the walls of Notre Dame de Wisques almost 100 years ago.
I have now moved to Melbourne after many years in London. Notre Dame de Wisques is no longer in easy reach for me. But that is not so important, as there are other local monastic communities willing to provide a moment’s break from the daily grind of city life. It is something that I highly recommend for those seeking different ways to recharge their spiritual batteries. And what better time to do it than the season of Advent, in the lead up to one of the most significant events in the Christian calendar.
An edited version of this article appeared in “The Melbourne Anglican”, December 2009, pp22-23