By Father Steven Morris
I was sitting on my little porch one evening, waiting for 7:30 when I could go to the midway house to pick up my dinner. But the brother arrived first with the wooden box and my meal. I said, “You don’t have to deliver my food.” He said, “Ah, it’s as easy to bring it here to you as it is to the midway house.” That kind of sensitive awareness goes a long way in building community. It says: “I am aware of you personally.”
The brother who looked out for me said, “The brothers don’t stand around discussing each other. There’s no whispering in corners or asking curious questions about the others. On the Sunday walk no one will ask about you. I’ll simply tell them, ‘He’s a priest from the United States.’”
The brothers wear a white habit and their cowl (hood) is pulled up on the head most of the time to help the monk to block out people-distractions. The community- building dimensions of these practices are pretty obvious. These were the happiest people I’ve ever seen. Peaceful. Slowed-down. Smiling. Energized. Willing.
The highest title of address in the community is “Brother.” Among the members of the community, there are three priests. One is the Prior, which means monk in charge. Another is the Prior-General, the monk who oversees all the monasteries: two in Israel, one each in Italy and France. Still, everyone is called “Brother.” In fact, when I returned to the United States I sent a fax (no email or Internet by their choice) to thank the community for its hospitality. The Prior, Jean Baptiste, acknowledged my fax with an additional good wish and signing off “little brother jean baptiste.” He doesn’t even use capital letters with regard to himself! Jesus tells us to be little. No power. No threats. No aggrandizing. No ego agenda. No self-importance.
Before leaving I got to speak with “little brother jean baptiste.” He’s about forty years old. He wears the same clothes as everyone else: no insignia, no signs, no special jewelry and his head is shaved like everyone else (no fussing about styles here). We sat in a small room with white walls, at a small plain and bare table, two straight back and un-upholstered chairs without arm rests, and window looking out into an old courtyard or cloister. He sat resting his chin in his left hand, never once taking his eyes off me.
At one point I started to get animated or agitated – grousing about something – American politics or the woes of the world or some self-pitying thing. He didn’t change his glance or posture except to start gently waving his right hand over his right shoulder as if to say, “Let it pass, let it pass, let it pass.” Of course!
“We don’t drink tea or coffee; it makes us excited,” the brother said.
One brother said in a brief exchange about the mountain range below: “There is the creator…who makes the flowers, the animals, the light, the water, and the weather. Then God created us – men and women. He did it all in this order – creation first and then people, so that we would have creation at hand, so that we could relate to the Creator through creation,”
In the monastery flags aren’t waved. And the cross isn’t waved. And voices aren’t raised except to break the silence in the sung praise of God. On the Feast of Mary’s Nativity, September 8, we were in the chapel from 6:30 to 11:30 a.m. Though they are poor and live in a great simplicity, no one even alludes to money. Guests are welcomed without forms and prerequisites. Blessed Paul Giustiniani wrote: “Until I was alone, I never really lived. Until I was alone, I was not with myself. Until I was alone, I never drew near my Creator.”
