January 26, 2022
I have had opportunity to serve at the altar here at Portsmouth. The practice typically was for celebrant and server to pray silently in the sacristy chapel before the conventual Mass, awaiting the Angelus bells to prepare to process. Preparation for prayer, of course, is prayer - just as stretching before a workout is part of the training of the body, too. This makes me reflect on the first word and fundamental theme of the Rule – listen – particularly as I reread Wednesday’s gospel, the inescapable parable of the sower. I think I have often been distracted (who isn’t these days?) by all the different scenarios - the rocky, the shallow, the fertile. But they all carry a constant theme, a singular message: God speaks, and we must listen. The way forward for me, I realize (again), is to be silent, to discern, to pay attention, to receive. Maybe I should not become distracted in figuring out the varieties of soil, but should rather return to the Word that is being quietly spoken within me. Not simply to hear, but to listen. This posture I encountered in prayer in the sacristy chapel before Mass. It deserves my attention.
Pax,
Blake Billings
January 20, 2022
This may just be the way my own peculiar mind works, but I found myself tracing the outlines of sharp contrasts in our recent abbatial election. From my study of political philosophy, I noted, on the one hand, a radical and complete democracy of the process, requiring that all solemnly professed members have a vote, ensuring that leadership emerges from the community. On the other hand, the elected is given a great deal of centralized power, as the Rule invests in the abbot extensive authority within the community, a community vowed to obedience. A second contrast seemed to me even more significant. With the invocation of the Holy Spirit, the monastic community seeks to live as a community set apart, consecrated and ordained, a life dedicated to seeking God’s will and climbing the ladder of humility and holiness. Yet at the core of the electoral process, as each monk casts his vote, there is a swearing off of any manipulative collusion. A shocking, humbling confession of the possibility of weakness, the reality of sin. And a third contrast comes to mind: how the selection of such a leader happens despite a lack of vision, of clarity, possibly even a kind of fatigue and even desperation, the sort of experience that calls for “perseverance” in monastic life. But, undeniably, this struggle - perhaps part of the “mistrust” Abbot Christopher spoke of in his homily at Mass prior to the election - contrasts with a persistent hope that emerges: a hope implicit in moving forward to elect, a hope that emerges with the inauguration of a new abbatial tenure, with a turning of the eye toward the future. So, I find myself pondering these oppositions: of the collective and the singular will, of sanctity and sinfulness, of desperation and hope. But are these not the contrasts one might expect from a people that beats its breast over its “grievous fault” while celebrating God’s presence, and continues to pray that God’s will be done, “on earth as it is in heaven”? One more contrast: these very contrasts become the stuff of doubt... and fuel for prayer.
Pax,
Blake Billings
January 12, 2022
Our community offers Mass daily, and I have been blessed to be present for many of these services. While the Rule of Saint Benedict makes sparse reference to the celebration of Mass, it has come to take a central place in the practice of prayer in the community. Indeed, communities monastic share this with the church universal, what our most recent ecumenical council calls the “source and summit” of our faith. Our non-monastic in-person daily participant list is not large, fluctuating between five and twenty-five. But there is something greater here. In a recent reading of the gospel, Mark relates: “He said the blessing, broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples.” The clear eucharistic reference in the miraculous multiplication of the loaves also resonates with a theological corollary: it is Christ himself who still “says the blessing” at Mass. Dear reader – we share this communion. One of the most extraordinary experiences of this Sacrament I have ever had was viewing and praying with the Masses recorded in the Vatican’s Santa Marta chapel, celebrated by Pope Francis. The intimacy of the setting and of his message, despite its “remote”-ness and my post-factum viewing due to the time difference, offered profoundly touching and personally meaningful lessons, deepened in a pandemic context shared literally by the rest of the planet. The online encounter with the Blessed Sacrament continues in many places, available on our own website both in livestreamed and in recorded formats. I do not write this to make a particular case for joining our Mass online. I simply want to express my renewed awareness, motivated by Mark’s gospel, that whenever and wherever you join in the Mass, you are with us in the communion of the sacrament. And wherever you attend this daily miracle, we even share the same Principal Celebrant.
Pax,
Blake Billings
January 8, 2022
Back in the day, a Portsmouth Priory student was required to send a weekly letter home to his parents. At least one would send off simply the addressed, stamped envelope. Occasionally, he would address his “letter” to “The Beautiful Lady on Portland Street,” or some similar recipient. The postal carrier in my small Maine hometown knew the Rhode Island missives were for my mom. This editor’s note is intended as a similar kind of weekly greeting, perhaps atoning for previous neglect. My hope is that it not arrive an empty envelope. My message to you this week is simply that here at Camp Granada we are, seemingly as everyone else, stumbling forward into 2022. We have much to look forward to, much to be concerned about, and, as an editor I should note, many dangling prepositions with which to deal. My hope is that we will deal with everything as it comes, one preposition at a time, trusting in the Lord. May your year proceed similarly. By the way, that letter-sender, who will remain unnamed, was not yours truly.
Pax,
Blake Billings
Blake Billings '77, Ph.D. is a graduate and current faculty member of Portsmouth Abbey School. He received his undergraduate education at Dartmouth College in New Hampshire, then joining the Jesuit Volunteer Corps to assist in an inner-city parish in Oakland, California. From Oakland, he went to Leuven, Belgium, receiving degrees in theology and philosophy. He returned to the Abbey in 1987, teaching for three years before getting married and returning to Leuven to pursue a Ph.D. in philosophy, which he was awarded in 1995. Having taught in higher education at various schools, including St. John's University, Farifield University, and Sacred Heart University, he decided his calling was at the secondary level, gratefully returning to Portsmouth in 1996, where he has resided ever since. He became an oblate of the Portsmouth community ten years ago. His four children were all raised on campus and graduated from the school, the youngest in 2020.