Monastery Retreat & Visit, January, 2018, Part 2.

On previous retreats, I've generally used a book consisting of excerpts from the writings of one or two saints or notable Catholic writers with background information, comments, and suggestions for reflection supplied by the editor. They've generally been okay. This time, though, I used a book that was entirely written to be used for a retreat: "A Retreat with Father Cedric," by Fr. Cedric Pisegna, C.P. Unlike the other books, where editors teased out themes from the original writers, Fr. Cedric was able to develop his ideas fully and present them for the reader's consideration. I cama away with several insights.

Among the ideas I found particularly attractive were:

• we don't need to ask God for forgiveness; we need to receive it;
• "God isn't mad at you, he's mad about you;"
• don't ask, "What's wrong with me; let God show what's right with you;
• we change and progress when the pain of our condition is worse than the pain of change;
• "Our thoughts have a mind of their own unless we direct them somehow."

Perhaps the most useful is that my habit of procrastination may come from a fear of failure (or being wrong). If I don't do something, or don't finish it, I won't get it wrong. Wordsmithing is similar: what I do has to be perfect. I need to accept that imperfection is okay.

I also bring along "secular" reading matter. This time it was the first book of a three volume series titled "The Emergence of Western Political Thought in the Latin Middle Ages" by Francis Oakley. He "challeng[es] the popular belief that the ancient Greek and Roman worlds provided the origins of our inherently secular politics." Oakley claims "that it is in the Latin Middle Ages [not antiquity and the Renaissance] that we must seek the roots of modern political secularism." This may not appeal to everybody, but in college and grad school I concentrated in political philosophy, so this is a refresher and update of my studies of decades ago.

Before my visit was over, I finished the Oakley book. Fortunately, in the bookstore I discovered and bought a book of pieces by Leo Tolstoy, "The Kreutzer Sonata and Other Short Stories." I had heard of "The Kreutzer Sonata," so I was happy to have a chance to read it. It's a horrifying story exemplifying his extreme views on sex (he's against it).He writes things supporting traditional Christian sexual morality, but then he goes way overboard with an extreme and fundamentalist reading of a few verses in the Bible.

With all the chances to visit with monks, I had several pleasant experiences. Tuesday evening at recreation the abbot introduced me to cribbage. It's a simple game with a wildly complicated system of scoring. Wednesday evening, there was an open seat at a table of bridge players, and I joined them.  That was fun. My partner and I won one hand of three that were played. One of the two postulants who were to become novices the next Sunday was there, and I got slightly acquainted with him — a middle aged man from Colorado.

One day after Mass, Brother Ignatius seemed almost to be waiting for me. I mentioned that I was happy that they were using music composed by Father Cecil. He asked, "Were you here when it was composed?" "Yes." Was he finding his work in the archives enjoyable? Not exactly. "Tolerable?" He agreed that was a good word for it. I assured him I was praying for him, for which he was grateful; and I looked forward to seeing him when I visit in July.

There is a lot more that I could say about my time there, but this is probably enough. It was a very pleasant and worthwhile visit. I'm looking forward to the next one.

Monastery Retreat & Visit, January, 2018, Part 1.

My most recent visit to the monastery was January 7-11. I chose those dates because the 7th and 8th were part of the Christmas season on the Church calendar. Sunday was the Feast of the Epiphany (most commonly associated in the West with the visit of the three wise men to the infant Jesus), and Monday was the Baptism of the Lord (by John in the Jordan River, which inaugurated his public ministry). After that, Christmas was over and we were back to "Ordinary Time." I took a ton of pictures of the Christmas decorations. Here are a few. I recommend clicking on them to enlarge them for a better view.

Nativity scene on a table in the chapter room.

Christmas tree in the chapter room. One of the older monks told me it was their  best Christmas tree ever.

Decoration on the big table in the chapter room. There were flower arrangements all over the place. To the left is the dish with the mashed potatoes, still covered. Behind the flower arrangement is the dish with the beef stew.

In the church. Flowers and candles near the altar (altar out of view to the right); wreath on the pillar (as on many others); trees. The main nativity scene is on the other side of the trees.

Nativity scene.

Refectory, looking from abbot's table toward kitchen. Nativity scene; flowers and candles on tables. Normally the tables and chairs are at the sides, with a wide aisle down the center. I was assigned the second chair on the right beyond the abbot's table. Way in the back, above the doorway, is the balcony where the reader normally reads at regular lunches and dinners.

Corridor outside the refectory. Flowers and candles in front of a painting of Mary and Jesus; wreaths in the windows.

Main entry to the monastery. This is looking in the opposite direction from the previous picture.

Three of the monks taking the tree from the chapter room. They're just at the main entry. My room was to my left as I took this picture.

Setting the tree outside to be removed by the college maintenance crew.

Previous posts have pics of the monastery and grounds during "ordinary time."

In many ways, this visit followed the pattern of previous ones:
 5:00 – wake up;
 6:00 – Vigils and Lauds in the church;
 6:50 – free;
 7:30 – breakfast;
 7:50 – free/shave;
 8:30 – Mass;
 9:10 – free;
 12:00 – Midday Prayer, followed by lunch;
 12:45 – free;
 3:30 – haustus/ free;
 5:30 – Vespers, dinner, recreation;
 7:05 – Compline;
 7:50 – free, in bed by 10:00.

The periods labeled "free" are when I'd read my retreat book, my other books, read newspapers in the chapter room, take pictures, walk around campus, buy stuff in the bookstore, and nap. At haustus (snack time), various monks would be there from day to day, and there'd be shorter or longer conversations; and occasionally another monk would be in the chapter room when I went there, and we might chat.

Sunday dinners take place in the chapter room — outdoor courtyard in summer — with unassigned seating, and conversation; and they flow into the recreation period. Other meals are taken in silence in the refectory, with assigned seating. During lunch and dinner in the refectory, a book is read. (Exception, on big feast days at dinner, the reading is dispensed with and conversation is permitted. That happened in the refectory on Monday evening this time.)

One thing I really enjoy is that on Sundays, the kitchen employees are given the afternoon off, and individual monks sign up to prepare dinner. Then after compline, they almost all head to the kitchen to clean up. I think I'm the only guest who regularly joins them, but I love the additional chance to socialize.

I still want to tell about my reading for my retreat and the non-religious book I read, as well as some personal encounters and specific doings, but I'm afraid it'll make the post too long. I already have three more paragraphs and that's not all I want to tell you.  So What's above will be published as Part 1., and Part 2. should follow in a few days.

Matt Damon and the Boston Symphony — Sexist or Racist?

Not long ago, in the sweep of human history, Matt Damon suggested that there are degrees of sexual harassment and misconduct and that there should be different consequences, depending on the gravity of the offense. I don't have his actual words in front of me, but I think it amounted to suggesting, in the first place, that rape was worse than touching or even caressing buttocks, and that our and society's reactions should differ accordingly. To add my own gloss: for some things, one should be imprisoned; for some, loss of employment s appropriate; for some, disgrace is fitting. I'd also comment that in the case of some long past, minor offenses, the consequences should take account of the culture of the time in which they occurred.

The reaction was swift and furious. Denunciations rose to the level of suggestions that his appearance in an upcoming movie should be excised. The rationale seems to be that because he is a man he is not allowed to express an opinion on matters affecting women.  I don't recall any assertions that all offenses were equally grave, but there may have been an idea that attempting to grade them was irrelevant, since they were all offenses against women.
I think Matt Damon was right, and it was his right to say it. To deny his right to do so because he's a man strikes me as sexism.


More recently, some people complained to management of the Boston Symphony Orchestra that they are not playing enough music by women and minority composers. They pointed out that in this year's subscription series only one work composed by a woman is being performed.

The question that occurs to me is, "Who are the composers who deserve to have a place alongside Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Dvořák, Rachmaninoff, and others in the standard repertory?" The only female composers of any stature I'm aware of are Fanny Mendelssohn and Amy Beach, and I really doubt that there are others as good or better whose works have been suppressed. Similarly, the only "minority" composers I've heard of are the Chevalier de Saint Georges and T.J. Anderson (a black man who was a member of the Harvard Musical Association). It's not that simple, however. It won't do simply to say, "There are no female or minority Beethovens."

For one thing, the BSO performs works by second rank composers. This season, for example, we're being treated to compositions by Méhul, Adams, and Ligeti. There ought to be room for Fanny Mendelssohn and Amy Beach from time to time. In addition, the orchestra regularly commissions or co-commissions new works. This season, they are giving the American premiere of a new work by Jörg Widmann which they and the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra jointly commissioned.

So I think the correct response is twofold. On the one hand, new works by women and minority composers should be as welcomed by the orchestra as those by white males. There may be proportionally fewer women and minority composers than their numbers in the population at large, but sex and ethnicity should not be limiting factors. On the other hand, the music of the 18th, 19th, and 20th Centuries has all been composed, and it's almost all by dead white men. For the foreseeable future, that music will be a major part of the repertory of symphony orchestras, and that does not mean the orchestras are being racist or sexist.