Finding Peace at a Monastery in Aspen, Colorado

            Driving down a snow covered county road in Snowmass, Colorado, I approach the Monastery, unsure of what to expect. Pinks and whites blend with the blue sky as the sun rises in the distance. Mountains surround this valley, enclosing it from the world. For fifty years, this Catholic Trappist Monastery has offered daily masses to all that feel a nudge to come. I park my car, and follow a dozen people walking towards the chapel entrance. A silence descends, putting me in a contemplative place. Birds fly nearby, while a small squirrel scurries along a crosstie fence. I walk inside and sit on a bench lining the nave. The chairs in the center are reserved for the monks. Clear paned windows let in the mountain views. The stained glass window of Mary and the enfant Jesus grace the far end of the room, scattering colored light across the floor. There is coolness in the air that causes me to pull my jacket tighter. Bells ring, calling all to worship. Monks, wearing long tan belted robes, enter quietly. We are welcomed and the service begins with a chanting of a Psalm. Voices sing in unison and musical notes rise in praise. Peace settles and calms me. I breathe deeply, grateful.

            An hour earlier, I lay in a warm bed, wishing I had not promised I would attend Lauds, an early Morning Prayer and mass. Dressing before dawn was challenging. I am not a morning person, especially when morning begins in the dark. Despite this, I know I need this experience. I am one of the ones that has been nudged. 

            Listening to the homily, which speaks of Jesus’s unfathomable love for us, I am inspired to love more deeply. Love seems too simple a catalyst for change, but I believe in its power. The priest says that we do not need our head to come to prayer, only our heart. I realize that I am constantly bringing my mind, with all its busyness. When I open my heart, I become centered on what is truly important. For me, my relationship with God is at the core. Why have I let other things fill that space?  I am convicted to come home.

            One of the monks invites us to the Eucharist. We form a circle around the Altar, with monks forming half the circle and laypeople completing it. With the last word of the Lord’s Prayer spoken together, we approach the priest passing out the wafer and blessing each of us. I then drink from the consecrated chalice offered by another monk. At this moment, I am reminded of Jesus’s sacrifice and love. Returning to my seat, I sit in awe of His Presence.        

            Melpkin Abbey, another Trappist Monastery located in Moncks Corner, South Carolina, now beckons me. I have enjoyed walking through their botanical garden and wildflower lined Labyrinth, and finding the banks of the Cooper River. Today, I feel inspired to sign up for a spiritual retreat this spring. A year ago, I considered attending, but the timing was not right. I believe it is my next step. If Jesus needed to retreat often to spend time with His Father, how can I think I do not need to create space for His connection?

            If you have not made the trek to Melpkin Abbey, please find the time. You will not be disappointed. Visit my blog www.sacredgroundwriting.blogspot.com for more information on walking the Labyrinth as a way to pray. God is waiting. Let us meet Him in this Sacred Ground.

             

Ash Wednesday at Westminister Abbey

While in London, England for an international Red Cross meeting, I decided to attend an Ash Wednesday service at Westminster Abbey. As I approached the Abbey, the West Great Door loomed ahead. After a thirty-minute wait, the large wooden door opened and we were beckoned in. I followed, walking beneath statues of 20th century Christian martyrs, noticing Martin Luther King Jr. among the ten. I entered into a hushed, softly lit place of peace and breathed deeply.

     A hundred feet above the floor, the ribbed vaulting crisscrossed the length of the nave, which stretched from the main entrance to the High Altar. The height along with a single aisle drew my eyes upward in wonder. I was in a house of worship.

     The story of Westminster Abbey has played a significant role in the history of the world. The coronation of every British monarch has occurred in this abbey since the crowning of William the Conqueror in 1066, along with numerous funerals and sixteen royal weddings, most recently Prince William to commoner Kate Middleton.

     As I walked along the left side of the nave, the early evening’s light shown through the stain glass windows from the west, lighting the floor in rays of color. Stone monuments honoring historically influential people lined the path and I occasionally stopped to read a name. I continued until I reached the spacious area between the “quire”, an ornate area where the choir resides and the High Altar. Rows of wooden folding chairs lined the north and south transepts, which lay on either side of the spacious area designed for coronations.  A distinct, British accent directed us, as others took their seats.

     The service began as a thurifer, a priest carrying incense, walked down the center aisle. As the metal container called a censer swung in a semi circle motion, the sweet smell filled the air. Large candlelit chandeliers hung from the lofty ceiling, creating an atmosphere of quiet reflection. Priests followed carrying gold crosses and banners. Their vibrant vestments or outer garments brushed the floor as they walked. The magical voices of the boys’ choir pierced the silence as musical notes floated upward towards the archways.

     After blessing the ashes from last year's Palm Sunday service, four priests left the High Altar and stood on either side. We were directed to come forward in an orderly procession. Drawing a cross on my forehead, the priest’s soothing voice said, “Remember that dust you are, and to dust you shall return”. I closed my eyes as I received the call for repentance.

     The Very Reverend Dr. John Hall, Dean of the Abbey, delivered the homily, speaking of the service that had occurred two days earlier, honoring Nelson Mandela, former leader of South Africa. Mandela was one of a select few non-Britons given this distinction. According to Dr. Hall, Mandela was able to lead His country into reconciliation because of his years in captivity. Mandela showed the world the power of forgiveness when he forgave his tormentors for his twenty-seven years in prison.

     In Lent, we witness Jesus’s ultimate act of forgiveness while on the cross. As he looked out at his persecutors, He asked, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do". He offered compassion instead of seeking justice.   

     What is forgiveness? It is not excusing the behavior. Instead, it is letting go of the desire for vengeance, acknowledging the pain, and then releasing it. When we forgive, our hearts become pure again and the one forgiven is disarmed. Their defenses are lowered and there is clarity to see their wrongdoings more clearly.

     On the cross, God forgave our sins through Jesus's sacrifice. This incredible gift lowers our defenses and allows us to see our sins, which are wiped clean with our repentance. We are given access to our Father. This forgiveness can motivate us to change.

     In this Easter season, I challenge you to forgive yourself and others. Only then, will we discover the power of forgiveness that Jesus Christ and Nelson Mandela modeled so eloquently.

A Spiritual Moment at St. Paul's Cathedral, London, England

            Whenever we travel, moments of spirituality may occur when we are open to their possibility. Two weeks ago in London, Westminster Abbey was the setting of one of these experiences and my column, “Sacred Ground”, described it in detail. Ash Wednesday’s service in the historical Abbey was profound and moving, a highlight among my spiritually insightful moments. Looking back over my few days in London, I recall examples of God’s majesty. Embracing His presence has added to a deeper understanding of Him and the world around me.

            Another of these revelations occurred while touring St. Paul’s cathedral where Lady Diana Spencer married Prince Charles thirty-three years ago. Walking to the cathedral from the tube station, I noticed the magnificent white dome dominating the skyline. As I neared, the dome’s two stories became clearer, displaying Christopher Wren’s architectural vision, which became a reality in the years 1675-1711. The wider story with its multiple white columns gives a base for a smaller second story with windows around the circumference. A spire, topped with a cross, rises from the rounded roof.

            During WWII’s blitz, 1940,Winston Churchill declared, “At all costs, St. Paul’s must be saved.” During this city’s wartime struggle, the dome of St. Paul’s cathedral became a symbol of human endurance against evil and the ability to overcome adversity. In times of profound joy and grief, multitudes have gathered. Thousands of Londoners flocked here to celebrate VE Day and later, the ending of WWII and more recently, our own tragedy of 9/11.

            I passed people, young and old, milling around the granite steps, posing for pictures and enjoying the warm spring sun that had pushed back yesterday’s rain clouds. I entered the West Front and was amazed by the length and width of the nave. The white walls, etched in gold provided a beautiful frame for the eight brightly painted moments of St. Paul’s life shown on the interior dome. 

            Wandering the nave and side chapels, I was inspired as I listened to an audiotape of their boys’ choir singing. I climbed the 259 steps leading to the Whispering Gallery. I walked the circular path surrounding the great masterpieces of St. Paul’s life and heard whispering from the opposite side, which is a unique consequence of the architecture.  I climbed another 119 steps to the Stone Gallery, where the outside space of the first story of the dome can be accessed. Another 150 steps took me to the Golden Gallery and an amazing view of the city. The rays of sun shone on my face and the wind whipped through my hair as I walked the circumference of the base of the dome’s second story. I saw the London eye, a Ferris wheel located on the Thames River. Across the river, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben and Parliament stood grandly. In the other direction, I saw the Tower Bridge, located next to the Tower of London. Haziness blurred the horizon as my eyes searched in the distance for Windsor Castle.  Standing there, I became conscious of the passage of time and God’s presence.

            I thanked Him for His never-ending desire to be in my life and the ability to visit this place that has captured the hearts and souls of the British people.