Time out
James Michie
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita unlike Mrs Thatcher I felt neither con- fident that I was getting into my stride nor that the way ahead was clear. I had become conscious that I was repeating myself not only to myself but to others; I could do with a stone less in self-consciousness and vani- ty; I didn't wish to ponder any one thing in particular, but I hoped thoughts of renewal might visit me unsolicited — a com- monplace problem which provides second- rate psychiatrists with profitable clients.
A weekend in a seaside hotel would have left me staring at bad television with a fellow-sufferer or two, perpetually half- drunk. A few days with a loved family with children would have been better, but are there families to whom one can unpom- pously announce that one is with them 'in retreat'? Above all, I wanted to be among people who were getting on with their own business. A monastery presented itself to my mind, although I am not remotely religious. I consulted a Catholic friend and he suggested one.
I telephoned the Guestmaster. 'I'm a complete stranger,' I said. `Do you ever ac- cept such guests?"Well, no, I'm afraid in fact we usually don't.' Would it make any difference at all if I supplied a reference?' 'It wouldn't really: you see, we never like to ask questions.' There was a pause. 'I'm ex- tremely sorry', I said, `to have bothered you.' There was a longer pause. 'When did you want to come?"Actually, I had hoped for the day after tomorrow, for a few days.' `Come, then. You'll be the only guest — I hope you won't mind that. But please be here by seven because that's when we eat.'
I was among Benedictines. In that Order
`Sunday Times? Can I have the balance on my current account, please?'
a guest is both honoured and avoided.1113,c1, some vague idea of helping to mend fene'i or peel potatoes — the only crop, so far a,s,: could see, that they cultivated: black flew; between yew avenues, a sombre accornPall_,' men to their habits — but I soon realise' even before reading their explicit rules all the subject, that I was expected flat; ci°, disturb their avocations. Among TraPP:i. you ask no questions at all; among Berte—c- tines you may certainly ask where the lavatory is, but to ask the time might b6 reprehensibly temporal. Benedict must have been a remarkable and attractive person. In the sixth cenrur!'''in after having spent three years in a grr'tt° the self-mortifying Eastern tradition, all, distressed by the behaviour of other 11°:Yb men, especially the spurious, gYPsY's„f Gyro'vagites, he thought up a syste Coles shared monastic life and wrote a set of r which have remained valid in the We ever since. He perceived that a well-fed brutheve who slept reasonable hours would lgod more energy to devote to the glory °,f and the assistance of man; that a vane`fnog labour — teaching, praying, ntirsn-a' agriculture etc — was more likely to keep monk spiritually awake than obsession:, dedication to fixed chores; that backbitIrr7 was the vice most to be shunned in a,e,c;,.er1 munity. Although his rules C°''',;,„"iy, punishments, they were also hunta:e'd relaxed: for instance, a novice was all°" to leave a monastery three times but °tint' be welcomed back the same number times, should he wish to return, for rene',I ed instruction, and those who wanteuda'y were permitted a half bottle of Wine tilled — a latitude which EEC prices have 1" ere stone-dead. Where I was, the rules vi,ce. clearly happily kept, although the n°11.00 board suggested the occasional Firbarm14, peccadillo: 'One of the brothers has reroute ed the studs or "poppers" from the.F,1!iriPtie frontals used for Lent and Advent. please have the grace to replace them' and I was received with great politeness with given a warm, blue-carpeted bedroom, r in a desk, equal in comfort and suPer'°00.. taste to average Trust House accornillmerie tion. I had access to a hot bath, which original it superfluous to test one of the °_,,r'n'nitY rules: 'Let both Abbot and conTn wash the feet of all guests.' The fe4 °" 1 rs"ery' refectory was ample and of top nu water for quality — fishcakes and stew, lunch and milk for dinner. nee Meals are eaten in silence, but a Is'le ereo varied by readings aloud and sacred st, music. In either case, since we clear:11°f; and rose to get second helpings chairs, bairs, courses, what with the scraping °' n of the clatter of cutlery, the Perclissiv tureens and the dropping of used knives and forks into a communal orange plastic bowl, it was not easy to concentrate. I was Puzzled when the Irish brother who was en- thusiastically reading us a sprightly biography, by Arthur Calder Marshall, of an eccentric Irish priest, Fr Ignatius Lynne, was cut off at a signal from his superior bet- ween a preposition and a noun. However, this was only due to the fact that the acting Abbot was deaf. I learnt this on the second day, in the calefactory, a room where the Monks converse with each other and guests for a short spell after mealtimes. No doubt the Guestmaster had mentioned this plea- sant custom and I had forgotten; anyway the name suggested to me either a sauna or a Place of intense zeal and I hadn't till then ventured into it.
Patrick Leigh Fermor in his excellent book
he A Time to Keep Silence describes how 'le abruptly left Paris and spent several months in various monasteries, including a Trappist one For the first week he ex- Penenced hebetude, wanhope, withdrawal sYnlptoras. The memory of his account Somade me nervous, since I had decided to drinking and smoking during my stay. My one moment of 'temptation' con- cerned television. Dom X had told me that there was one in the guest-room 'should You desire to learn the news', his wry smile seeming to imply that I was not expected to watch the Miss World Competition. All the samei, on a e night I was gripped by an ir- resistble ppetite for snooker: Steve Davis !ItrIand.'Hurricane' Higgins were locked in an '1311 _Ighty struggle. I crept into the room and Whitend a small machine with a black-and-
, minuscule screen. Furtively, I press- ed the buttons and twiddled the knobs but every channel showed the same silent snowstorm. I was more than half pleased.
oftI sPent my time writing letters, walking, en on a nearby golf-course (Roy Ker- ndge.would have asked whether monks are he lermitted to play golf, and do they have the libcaps, but I was too shy), browsing in library (where I discovered a contem- 13°, rarY obituary of Dr Spooner listing gieefully all the spoonerisms that the writer trnaintained had been mendaciously at- nbuted to him), and attending two offices every day. To a 'modern' mind like mY °wit, the belief that the world can be bet- lered by the power of prayer is entirely in- businesses Yet prayer is one of the chief the of any monastery, and I found My offices beautiful, simple and moving. ,ivly favourite was Compline, the last. I was tforuched that on each evening a passage ,°1-11 St Benedict on the treatment of guests as. read, and at the end, when a brother did holy water towards his fellows, he !t also in my direction, with a playful gYalvitY that was delightful. ach.left after three days, when I felt I had I 'eyed a small measure of tranquillity. If have stayed longer I suspect ennui might nove eroded peace. It seemed a good time to
_as it had seemed the right time to come.
of to , but was told that I had been considerPeayd a guest. A few days later, I
sent a cheque for the monastery with thanks (where else in this country could you be treated, as an outsider, with such tact and generosity?), enclosing a translation of a pagan author by my own hand which I had noticed, with exactly the sort of self-concern I had been hoping to eliminate, was not in their library. The Guestmaster sent me a charming letter back: 'The Father Abbot is reading it at this moment.' Later, I got a friendly Christmas card.
On my return to London I accompanied a Catholic friend to Mass at a go-ahead local church. I was horrified. What on earth or in heaven was going on? The altar- piece had been obscured by 'pop' represen- tations of the Nativity (black Caspar the predominant magus) of such earnest ugliness that the priest in his sermon evidently felt obliged to lecture us on their aesthetic virtues; the Lord's Prayer, instead of being congregationally spoken, was sung to the 'Geordie Ballad'; the host was hand- ed out by ladies in mackintoshes to recorded music that sounded more intergalactic than sacred; there were notices up warning one to beware of pickpockets. My companion emerged enraged, claiming that God had not been present. It was a far cry from the monastery.
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