The rising bell sounds throughout the dormitory cloisters at 3:30 AM, and the monastery day has begun. Sister Maria, not gifted with the charism of early rising, dresses with heavy eyes but devout heart.
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It was a bright sunny day when I awoke on January 17, feast of St. Anthony, called the first hermit. This celebration would be simple.
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No matter how one may want to look at it, five o’clock is truly early in the morning; and it is at this time that the stillness of the monastery is abruptly broken by the alarm.
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The world is sleeping as I make my way through the darkened cloister. Not all the world: I think of my friends who are nurses and new mothers. Perhaps our vocations are not altogether different.
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When we are more aware of God’s love for us, then we are better able to handle the sufferings of life, because we know that we are not alone.
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In a world where “time is money,” the Monastic culture grasps a deeper reality. For the contemplative, it is not a matter of material gain; rather, all time is at the service of God.
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St. Francis de Sales provided his spiritual daughters with a little book called The Spiritual Directory, in which he “walks” his daughters through the day from “Rising” and ending with “Going to Bed.”
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Our life at the monastery is about being rather than doing. That's what most people find hard to swallow.
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