The Monks of the Abbey of Gethsemani

June 22nd, 2009, 4 Comments »

Abbey at Gethsemani ChurchEarlier this week I attended a church service at the Abbey of Gethsemani (great URL, there). This was Compline, the last of the seven ‘hours’ or prayer services which the monks recite daily. Because part of the monastery’s mandate is to “turn no stranger from their gate”, the public may attend any service.

There was a vaguely voyeuristic feeling to the proceedings, however. The public sits in a cordoned section at the back of the church, just past the narthex. We’re separated from the rest of the church by a railing (though those wanting blessings or take communion pass through a gate at the appropriate time). The monks, most of them clad in a kind of cowl (you can see a bunch of them here), amble in and take their places in pews. The ceremony begins–there’s no obvious officiant–and you watch.

Extraordinary Lives

Rituals aside, I was actually fascinated by the life the monks lead. It’s exactly what you’d expect. It’s also nothing like what you’d expect.

Every day (with no exceptions–monasteries apparently know no weekends), the monks rise at about 3:00am. They take their first prayer service at 3:15am–Vigils. Then, I gather, they go to work.

In terms of work, I kind of imagine the Abbey like a big, permanent summer camp. You need cooks, caretakers, gardeners, cleaners and so forth. Monks fill many of these roles, though they’re getting a bit long in the tooth and do hire laypeople for certain work.

The monks also make chesse, fudge (with bourbon–very tasty) and fruitcake on site, and apparently do brisk business through their online store. They also run a retreat centre with 45 beds. It’s very popular, and is booked ahead of time for months.

There are also scholars (many have advanced degrees) writers and artists among the monks. I spoke with a monk–a published photographer–who recently went into Louisville for a Photoshop course. Another was consulting on a movie script with a number of Hollywood names attached to it.

These monks are a cloistered, silent order. So while you might expect them to live in a kind of jovial brotherhood, I guess they actually choose to live solitary lives. I heard of one monk who, in twenty years of shared living, had only had one conversation with a fellow brother.

The Last Generation of Monks

There were 400 of them in the early fifties, but through attrition and departures it’s down to 50 mostly old men. Judging from what I saw in at Compline, I’d say the average age is north of 65. One brother, in his nineties, rolled into church in a motorized wheelchair. The abbey was founded on December 21, 1848. The next morning, forty-four monks said the seven prayer services. They’ve been said every day since. They probably won’t be said in 2048. This is almost certainly the last generation of monks at this abbey.

It’s an extraordinary lifestyle, and I’m glad to have glimpsed it. I feel about the abbey the same way I do about Cuba under Castro. I’m glad I could experience these places when I did. Before they change.

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The Age of Consent and Catholicism

May 4th, 2008, 10 Comments »

Tonight I noticed this image go by on Reddit. It accompanies this Wikipedia article on the age of consent.

I noticed something interesting. There seems to be a strong correlation between a young age of consent (12 to 15 years old) and Catholic countries. I created this little graphic to illustrate.

  1. This image shows the age of consent. The blue countries have an age of consent between 12 to 15 (disgustingly, the age of consent in Yemen is nine, but forgo that for this experiment).
  2. Hover your mouse over the image. It should switch to a shrunken version of this image, which shows various flavours of Christianity by colour. The Catholic countries are yellow.


What’s the cause of this correlation?

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Spare Yourself 100 Days in Purgatory

November 30th, 2007, 2 Comments »

A couple of weeks ago, Julie went on a two-hour tour of the Gozo’s many religious niches–Catholic statues embedded in the facades of buildings. I was up for a one-hour tour, but that didn’t materialize, and I just couldn’t stomach two hours of historical niche study in a minivan full of British septuagenarians. Julie could, bless her, and took a number of lovely photos (she was also unknowingly photographed for the local paper). Here’s one:

Spare Yourself 100 Days in Purgatory

That’s an inscription under this niche. A Maltese speaker can help with the translation, but I gather it says, in part, “say Hail Marys under this niche, and spare yourself a hundred days in purgatory”. I believe you can also roll again, unless you land on Park Place.

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The Stations of the Cross at Ta’ Pinu

July 29th, 2007, No Comments »

From our back patio, we can see the Ta’ Pinu Basilica, a big, modern cathedral and popular pilgrimage destination.

Behind Ta’ Pinu, there’s a rarity on Gozo–a big hill without any buildings. That’s because it features the 14 Stations of the Cross along a winding path to the top. It’s a lovely (if sweaty) walk, and the view from the top is one of the best on the island.

Being in a photographic mood. I set myself a challenge to take just three photos of each of the fourteen statues, and pick the best ones for a little photo project.

The result is a mixed bag–some are decent while others are pretty lame. I think this is the best of the bunch:

8 - Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus to carry the Cross

The other problem is that we only saw 13 stations. I gather that the first station is, in fact, inside the basilica.

You can see a little slideshow of the 13 photos I chose, as well as a set of the rejects and a few random photos I took along the way.

You can see small photos of each of the whole statues. Oddly, this isn’t on Gozo. Some folks created a series of exact replicas of the statues in Australia.

At the top of the hill, there’s a really cool amphitheatre. The top of the hill is also home to zillions of snails each autumn. I’m not sure why they prefer the slightly higher altitude, but you can see their little shells everywhere:

Snails on a Branch

They also end up on the statues, to occasional creepy effect.

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