Editor's Note

October 22, 2022

“It's the thought of being young; When your heart's just like a drum; Beating louder with no way to guard it; When it all seems like it's wrong; Just sing along to Elton John; And to that feeling, we're just getting started...”

A visitor approached me after morning Mass this past week, moved by the service, and the chant in particular. She asked me about singing, and if the congregation could sing along with the chant. It is, of course, allowed, though not the current practice for the antiphons of the conventual daily Mass, and one would have to bring along one’s own Graduale. I am also very involved in the School Mass, for which we are attempting to actively encourage congregational singing. Our efforts work against the oft-repeated and unfortunately not inaccurate criticism that Catholics don’t sing. When I was a student in the School, I joined the Glee Club, which was conscripted automatically into singing at Mass. It was a job not undertaken resentfully, however, and regardless of our level of piety (or skill) we were boisterous in our vocalizing (not the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, nor the Vienna Choir Boys, to be sure). We cannot entirely blame the pandemic for our Catholic quietude, and it is even possible that in the post-pandemic liberty of singing sans masks, we may have found an opportunity and a rediscovery of what singing can truly express. The italicized lyrics above come from the hit song by the K-Pop band BTS, entitled “Permission to Dance.” About “permission to dance” that song proclaims: We don’t need it! This exuberance of youth, “no way to guard it”: this is what I may have detected in some of our singing lately, and it is a blessing. May we continue to encourage it, and see it flourish. And if you join us for a Mass, be it a conventual morning service or a Sunday “High Mass,” please realize: you do not need Permission to Sing.

Peace,
Blake Billings

October 15, 2022

Br. Sixtus’ reflection on hospitality has prompted some reflection of my own, particularly how I myself have often benefitted from Benedictine hospitality. The first monastery I ever visited was Portsmouth Abbey, after having recently graduated from its School. Speaking of the red-carpet treatment, it was in fact the first place I ever had caviar. Lest you derive the wrong impression, I happened to visit on the day of the 1500th anniversary celebration of the Benedictines in March of 1980, so the extravagance was justly appropriate. While studying theology in Belgium in the 1980’s, I made several retreats at Downside Abbey, drawn by its strong connection to Portsmouth’s foundation, well attended by the Guest Master who shared coffee and conversation with all the guests after dinner. In my final half-year of theology, I lived in the “Studium,” a section of Kaizersberg (Mont Cesare) Abbey, a well-known Benedictine monastery in Louvain, Belgium, which had opened a wing for graduate students. I have been privileged to enjoy the wonderful Chilean hospitality of the Manquehue community in Santiago and Patagonia, whose friendship conveys the gospel so vividly. May this note be a belated, albeit inadequate, expression of gratitude for all that these experiences have provided and continue to provide for me.

Peace,
Blake Billings

October 8, 2022

While we are still feeling the excitement of the new academic year, and the time crunch associated with the varied duties it has elicited, we are perhaps already moving more into the middling mainstream of the year, discovering a need for dedication, perseverance, and rest. Week follows upon week, and the sprint has become more of a marathon. We move from inspiring expressions of ideals and hopes to their mundane embodiment in the incessant stuff we have to do. This week’s issue mentions some of the details of Brother Benedict persevering through the stages of priestly formation, becoming “acolyte and “lector.” Abbot Matthew’s homily, also in this issue, reminds us that even for the greatest and holiest of saints, the continuation of our lives may often appear as a difficult drudgery. The need to persevere, the need to incorporate diverse small details of our lives into a meaningful fabric, the desire to see God’s grace in all – such hopes provide the thread which holds together the fabric of life woven in Benedict’s Rule.

Peace,
Blake Billings