INTO GREAT SILENCE: Joy and Vocation in the Cloister

But reading how the Carthusian Order views their specific call made me question whether my assumptions about cloistering are, in fact, always correct. While I don’t agree with all their practices (self-flagellation, for instance), I do appreciate the essence of what they seem to be giving their lives for. This order seems to have a lock on their call not just to enjoy communion with God themselves, but to actively intercede for the world, to focus intently on doing this. To empty themselves of all other distractions. They do this not merely for their own edification but for the sake of their neighbor as well. For someone who does not believe in God, this kind of separation from neighbor on behalf of neighbor may be difficult to understand; why forsake all merely to pray? But for those who do believe, it makes some sense. It has to do with one’s individual call and how that works together with the call of others.

The Apostle Paul wrote:

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.

Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good.–1 Corinthians 12:4-7

There is a holy beauty when the different gifts of the Church operate in unified purpose. The purpose of the whole Church is that the world may be saved. Again, this may be difficult for the unbeliever to contemplate, but Christians do believe there is something broken within creation and within humankind, however much beauty there may also be, and we believe that God calls us to work for the restoration of the world. Different denominations of Christendom may express their understanding of how this redemption plays out differently, but ultimately it is pretty much what we all hope, work, and pray for. Wherever, then, there is brokenness, evil, sadness, harm, abuse, and sin, Christians are called to shine light into that place.

For those who believe in God, then, there is a beauty in knowing that while we noncloistered folk go about our work in the world, there are a group of humble monks and nuns praying for the world’s redemption, providing us spiritual backup, if you will.

Even so, this film left me most curious about the stories behind each of these unusual, countercultural men. As I looked into their faces, I found myself wondering things like this: Are they really free inside? Do they regret having taken vows? What led them to renounce the entire world? Were they running from something or toward something? Why do they continue in such an ascetic way of life? What keeps them there? Is the cloister’s separation ever used to abuse those within it?

I found a few clues about these men in a review of the book An Infinity of Hours on the website The Wittenberg Door (a website I’m unfamiliar with and not sure I can endorse, but the review was too interesting to omit). This book (which is now on my to-read list) tells the story of five young men who attempted to join the Carthusians; only one remained with them at the time of the book’s publication. The author of the review writes that there is a 95 percent dropout rate and adds:

Given that the Carthusians are regarded by outsiders as the shock troops of contemplatives, they tend to attract very vigorous men, the kind who might have joined the Marines or played professional sports if they hadn’t been monks. That’s why much of the Carthusian discipline is devoted to slowing these men down. Even the chanting, which is based on the original Gregorian chants, is supposed to be done at as slow a pace as possible. And because the senior monks know that young men show up because they’re trying to win the Super Bowl of contemplation, they are especially hard on the sin of pride. Anyone who glories in being a Carthusian is drummed out pretty quickly.

I guess we all could do with some drumming out of the sin of pride.

Perhaps the most beautiful image of the film is how it ends, with a blind monk finally talking to us and telling us what he has learned in his many years in the order. He speaks with a joy that any one of us would envy:

Why be afraid of death? It is the fate of all humans. The closer one brings oneself to God, the happier one is. It is the end of our lives. The closer one brings oneself to God, the happier one is, the faster one hurries to meet Him. One should have no fear of death. On the contrary! For us, it is a great joy to find a Father once again.

What was your reaction to this film? Did you find it difficult? Does monastic culture attract you or do you “consider it akin to eternal torment“? Do you see a value for the cultivation of silence and contemplation and prayer in today’s mega-fast world? If so, how do you work into your life?

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