From the Editor (January 2022)

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