Time Out

St. Joseph's Abbey

Spencer MA

Early this morning, while most of Worcester County slept, one of my Jesuit brothers and I rose in the pre-dawn darkness, made our way to a nearby Trappist monastery, and settled into the hushed silence of the visitors' alcove in the main chapel. At 3:25am, the clear peals of the monastery's bells, swung by a middle-aged monk whose vigor seemed both beyond and at home in his slight frame, parted the night's stillness to summon the community, and the rare visitors like us, to prayer.

Having slept soundly for the previous six hours, and still not entirely awake, the bells remain my clearest memory of a 45-minute service of chants, hymns, readings, and prayers drawn from the Liturgy of the Hours, a form and structure of praying throughout the day. My prayer was surely not as vigorous or focused as that of the monks, and as I write this about twelve hours later, my recollection of its substance and content is equally vague. In fact, as my brother and I discussed our trip to Vigils– a rare effort for us requiring some advance planning and extra sleep, but an unchanging component of the monks' daily order– we both agreed that it seemed to be out of the normal flow of time, an isolated interval belonging neither to Thursday nor Friday.

Yet we were there, and speaking for myself, I wanted to pray as best as I could. I've been going through a tough patch with my spiritual life lately... falling into a regular temptation to make my prayer more intellectual than anything else, losing touch with feelings as I seek comfort and certainty in thoughts, having trouble listening to God no less than I talk about myself. I don't believe that I accomplished any of those goals in a time shrouded by drowsiness, but I do find myself continuing to meditate on that very experience of being, if only briefly, removed from my usual experience of the flow of time.

When does time stop, recede, or cease to matter for you? In the company of a beloved friend, significant other, or dear family member? In physical exercise or artistic activity? In prayer or worship? In sleep? While my vocation is not to the monastic life, in my various visits to cloistered communities of prayer and work in the Christian tradition, I have long admired how the order of their day prioritizes regular "time out" to pause, worship, and pray. In my pious imaginations, I envision that these intervals are full of brilliant enlightenment and graceful interaction with God. Perhaps their reality is, if only occasionally, closer to the dullness I currently feel, and includes a hunger and thirst for spiritual vibrancy. I know that making it to Vigils is something that I can only do once or twice a year– it takes so much effort, and feels almost alien to the rhythm of my life. But I can take deliberative measures to ensure that I regularly include this "time out" in my days, trusting that the eternal God is always there to meet me.

Visitor's chapel window

St. Joseph's Abbey

Spencer MA