second week in Rome, the synod in full swing

 13 october 23

Back in Rome. As of today, it’s a month already since I arrived in Italy. Thanks be to God this has been a much more relaxed week than the first three! I didn’t even realize how tired I was until we had a day off on Monday. 

There was one more notable happenstance before I left the Casentino to come down here. Each year the Italian Catholic magazine Il Regno holds a meeting at Camaldoli. This particular magazine was founded by the Congregation of the Priests of the Sacred Heart in 1956 as a source of thought and information about Christian inspired culture. It often deals with political issues and usually invites a prominent figure in church and/or politics. This year the guest was none other than the Vatican’s Secretary of State, Cardinal Pietro Parolin, who was to speak on “Europe as a Horizon of Peace.” I was doing my last conference at Poppi during his actual talk on Sunday, but he was also presiding at Mass and I really wanted to hear him speak, so Sr. Deborah drove me over to Camaldoli when I finished. He did indeed preside but Alessandro offered the homily, so I did not actually get to hear him speak, alas. I was sitting in choir with the other monks, basically right next to the good cardinal and couldn’t help but notice that throughout the liturgy he looked very tired or distant or detached––I couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He obviously would have a lot on his mind with the attack on Israel having just occurred. 

Afterward we had lunch in the refectory of the monastery, with all the monks from the Sacro Eremo in attendance too. The first two tables had been pushed together, covered with a tablecloth, and set up very fancily for the Prior General and the guests of honor, cloth napkins, flowers, etc. I sat way in the back with the young guys from the Eremo. We were supposed to leave for Rome at exactly 1:30 so I had to slip out a little early. As I was trying to sneak by the head table Giuseppe was serving the after-dinner vin santo and he grabbed me by the arm wanting to introduce me to the cardinal––il priore di New Camaldoli nella California. As opposed to his demeanor at Mass he got up and was quite animated, wanted to talk about California and the music for the Synod. I was taken off guard a little. The only thing that threw me was he kept using the formal lei with me which I was supposed to use, of course, for him as well, but I kept slipping and using the tu, unaccustomed as I am. But he did not seem to mind. We Camaldolese are certainly brushing up against the top of the hierarchy these days.

Monday we had the day off so I kind of crawled into my shell and only came out to eat. Actually, that evening I went over to San Gregorio to say hello to the brothers there and have Mass and dinner with them. It’s quite a crowd there now with all the students back for the start of the school year, quite near the largest community in the congregation, and very international. Besides the Italians from Camaldoli, the three young Tanzanians who I met in 2021 are there now, John, Sylvester and Onesforo. I was surprised at how happy they were to see me, or that they remembered me at all. Then there is Adaikalam from India who has now begun his studies in Hebrew and Greek for this specialty in Scripture, and Fabian from Hildesheim. I think they are 13 monks plus three long-term guests––a young man from Spain who works as a tour guide and two other young Italian student, non-monastics––living with them. It was a fun evening seeing them all together.

Aside from that we have fallen into a nice pattern. Fabio from San Gregorio picks us up here at Sant’Antonio at 6:45 AM each day and we whisk (and I mean whisk; I hang on for dear life) through the streets of Rome and inside the Vatican walls, waving our Synod badges (animazione liturgica) past two different sets of security guards, and have a parking place right between the basilica and Paul VI audience hall. There is a surprising amount of activity back there, a real little city––and even there they drive very fast! Matteo meets us and we walk into the sacristy building which is attached to the basilica by a set of staircases and a long hall, through the sacristy itself (actually sacristies: cardinals have a separate one marked off for them), and into the basilica. It is not unusual for there to be several Masses going on or being prepared at the same time. 

Caveat lector: I’m about to write some disappointing things about St. Peter’s Basilica… 

The place really does feel like a giant museum. Not that I have the absolute best antennae for these things, but I get a sense of awe and splendor and might there, but rarely any sense of holiness or recollection. There is one huge statue after the other (and, as I keep pointing out to my younger brothers, not one with even the hint of a smile), one monument to great men after another, blocks and waves of marble everywhere, everything made large to make you feel small, and constant people milling about, custodians ever-present dusting or riding floor buffing machinery, picking up plastic bottles, barriers all over the place forbidding entrance here or there. 

And the liturgies themselves have been very pedestrian, shall we say. First of all, these are supposed to be Masses for the Synod delegates, but very few show up, most days between about 25 and 40, some days a lot less, and we are in the Holy Spirit Chapel which could easily accommodate 500. There is the usual procession of priests, bishops and cardinals who sit a quarter mile away in the presbytery and every day a different cardinal presides (I think they have all been cardinals), sometimes in various languages or a mix of languages. (We’ve had French, English and Spanish besides Italian.) Our friends, four sisters from the congregation of Pie Discepole, are in charge of the music. Sr. Miriam, who also plays the cetra (zither) at the Synod prayers and who I had met when she was living at Poppi two years ago, put it all together in a booklet. I don’t know much of it, but I intuit that it’s stuff that would be used in a parish––or would have been used some time ago. We get there about 7 AM and spend the next half hour deciding what to do. Usually one of us monks sings or improvises the responsorial psalm from the ambo and Emanuele or Fabio play the organ All a little a casaccio for my sensibility. Often when the language is other than Italian there is nothing provided for people to join in so there is little or no response on the part of the assembly. And then all the clergy go processing out to some triumphal piece of organ music. It feels like a weird drama. That being said, some of the homilies have been good, I must say. Cardinal Tagle from the Philippines for instance was really wonderful.

One day, Wednesday, was especially memorable. There was another, obviously more important, Mass going on somewhere else in the basilica and we were told that we could not use the organ until it was done. There was hardly anybody at our Mass anyway. Luckily, I had brought my guitar with me, and we were going to sing Bob Hurd’s “As the Deer Longs.” Well, apparently someone had seen me walk through the sacristy carrying my guitar over my shoulder and sent Matteo to tell me that playing the guitar was not allowed in the basilica. Though it should not be such a big deal, I have rarely felt so offended. I got over it (kind of) and we sang the first half of the Mass acapella, even the ostinato of “As the Deer Longs,” the Italian refrain with English verses over the top. Halfway through the Mass we got a thumbs up that we could use the organ, so we still got to end with a triumphal processional for the little line of priests, bishops, and cardinals. 

There is no word in Italian for “underwhelming.”

The prayers in the synod hall instead have gone well and are much appreciated. Most days it’s just a hymn and three psalms, but Matteo has been asking us to add some other music here and there. Thursday was especially touching: a woman read the gospel in Arabic as the reading and then another woman sang the Taize Nada te Turbe first in Spanish and then in Arabic. I accompanied her on the guitar. This week when all the attention has been focused on outrage, and rightly so, for the Hamas attacks on Israel, there is obviously also grave concern for the innocent people in the Gaza Strip being killed, wounded and displaced by the retaliation. (As I write, Israel has issued its evacuation warning for the north of Gaza, an impossible feat, and everyone is on tinter hooks waiting for the ground invasion which will simply wipe out the entire region.) The Holy Father called the pastor of the parish in Gaza and the patriarch of Jerusalem has tried to be a voice of reason, and we are all praying for the improbable––a measured response on the part of Israel. 

Not that it makes it any worse or better, but often people forget how many Palestinian or just plain Arabic Christians there are. As a matter of fact, I stop often at a little fruttivendolo on my way home from the gym run by a guy from Egypt. There was Arabic chant playing in the background and I said how beautiful it was, assuming it was the Qur’an and it being Friday. He told me it was the Mass! I thought there might be some complaint that too much sympathy was being shown to the Palestinians, but no. I was disappointed to hear that someone complained, not that the Gospel had been read in Arabic but that it had been read by a woman. Sigh.

I have been surprised and touched by how many people are tuning in to the live stream from the States (I don’t know the link) and/or watching each day later on YouTube. That I know you can see via Vatican News. It was the first time we had used the guitar in the audience hall and unfortunately the sound guy did not do a good job of it and it was kind of boomy. Maybe it will be banned there too now…

I don’t think you can watch any of it on EWTN. I ran into a program the other day on YouTube, hosted by Raymond Arroyo, lead anchor for the network and also a Fox News contributor, just trashing the whole Synod in no uncertain terms. He had Cardinal Burke on as one of his guests. At one point one of the guests suggested that it was not a problem to be questioning the pope on this because it is like your mother is being attacked and you have a moral obligation to defend your mother, the Church. Wow.

I spoke with Cardinal O’Malley again the other day. He came over and greeted me. I was delighted he remembered my name. He doesn’t think the Church is under attack. I also got to speak with Fr. James Martin, SJ yesterday. None of them reveal anything of what is actually said in the synod hall, but he did say that the conversations have been very deep and filled with disagreements. I say, “At least they are talking!” Trying to make the Church as pastorally inclusive as possible does seem to me to be a wonderful thing. Let’s ask the questions: “What if?” and “What about?” If we don’t get the answers we wanted, fine, but at least we have talked about it. Mr. Arroyo was complaining that conservatives were not invited. It is simply not true. There are ample conservative (orthodox, traditional) voices among the delegates who are speaking their mind very clearly, and every bishop’s conference got to vote for their representatives. Our American delegation is made up of at least two bishops who are known not to be favorable to Pope Francis. And Bishop Barron is here, and I am told has been very articulate. Bravo for Francis for not being afraid of the conversation.

I just always worry about the people who feel un-invited, not welcome, or indeed pushed out of our churches. Who will feed them? Who will minister to them? Because “they are like sheep without a shepherd.” We can’t always be so self-referential. At times the only thing we can do is go out to them and do whatever we can for them where they are at. “You give them something to eat!” Jesus said. The Holy Father used a great image in his homily opening day. Jesus is always knocking at the door (the image from Revelation), but sometimes he is knocking from the inside, from inside of our churches, wanting to get out and be near the poor, the lost and the lonely.

Enough of my harangue. 

Anyway, after we sing in the morning, we are pretty much free for the day. We make our way through a huge traffic jam back to Sant’Antonio. Emanuele is working on his dissertation up at the library at Sant’Anselmo each day. I have been getting to the gym every day this week and getting lots of time to read and write. I’m also arranging meetings with several people who are here in Rome: my old friend John Wong, OFM, who is the definitor for all of Asia for the order and travels extensively, is stationed here (We went for Indian food, which was quite a culture shock, meeting with my Malaysian friend from Singapore in Rome, eating Indian food); our friend and oblate Nate Bacon is here; Monday I am meeting a young priest from LA who is here studying at the Opus Dei seminary. Sr Maria Cimperman is here, as is Sr. Carol Marie Hemish who I know through the Composers’ Forum. They both want to meet for coffee, and Jim Martin too offered me a tour of the Jesuit Curia (!). I did go up to Sant’Anselmo the other day to see if I could greet Abbot Gregory Polan, an acquaintance and good friend of the community, but he was out of town. It’s fascinating: this time more than ever I feel like Rome really is a meeting place for the world, at least the Catholic one.

Our Federico is studying at PIMS––the Pontificio Instituto di Musica Sacra, and he wanted us to attend a concert there with him on Thursday, which Emanuele and I did. It was really wonderful, a young (27-year-old) Sardinian prodigy. That got us home pretty late that night. And then one last adventure on Friday: As I said, I had met our friend and oblate Nate Bacon the other day for coffee. He is part of the missionary group called Interchange that works with troubled youth. Currently he lives in Guatemala, where his wife is from and where Zacc visited and stayed for a few months in 2020. Nate did a sabbatical year here a few years back and is in Rome again right now translating for another missionary congregation. We had a wonderful visit and conversation and then he was expecting a friend to join him after we met. She showed up while I was still there, and we struck up a stimulating conversation too. Her name is Shaza, she is from Syria and work for the FAO––the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations whose building is within sight of San Gregorio. (As a matter of fact, every now and then the monks host one of their staff as a long-term guest.) She also has an organization here in Rome called “Hummus Town,” which is a catering business that aids Syrian refugees and gives them work. She invited Nate and I to a fund-raising event for Hummus Town last night. It was in a neighborhood somewhere south of here on the terrazza-roof of an apartment building. It was quit interesting. The most prominent language spoken was English but there was some Italian of course and lots of Arabic. The young people (teenagers and younger) all spoke what sounded to me like perfect American-accented English. Being a part of the UN, many of them go to American schools here, and Shaza’s kids all speak all three languages fluently. Nate had to take a Zoom meeting during the dinner and Shaza was busy hosting, so I was rather awkwardly left on my own for a bit of time. But Shaza came to the rescue and ensconced me with a very nice older Italian couple with whom I had a great conversation. I was afraid we were going to have trouble finding a taxi home, but they offered to drive Nate and I all the way back to the Aventino. But that was two late nights in a row still having to drive off to the Vatican at 6:45. So that’s enough excitement for the time being. 

We’re all going to lunch at San Gregorio today and we’ll see what Sunday and next week brings.

Best to all. Tuesday the patriarch of Jerusalem has asked be a day of fasting and prayer for the Holy Land. Let’s join it and never never never lose hope for peace––with justice.

The coro camaldolese in the Holy Spirit Chapel

the opening of the synod on synodality and mad dashes across rome

 Saturday, 7 oct 23

Oh, my goodness. I don’t even know where to begin. What an eventful week it has been! Bro. Emanuele and I traveled down to Rome by train on Sunday afternoon. I do love that train trip, and I have really enjoyed getting to know Emanuele, who speaks decent English (and is fluent in French) but has been a very patient tutor along the way as well as a good travel companion. He and I and Thomas Mazzocco are all staying at Sant’Antonio with our nuns since there was no room for us with the monks at San Gregorio. It’s just as well. We have a little more liberty to come and go and it’s very comfortable. And of course the nuns are always eager to pour out a little TLC. 

I took Monday as a day to myself. Following my instincts, I got up in the cool of the early morning, tucked my holy books in my backpack and headed out on a walk well before sunrise. The smell of coffee and fresh bakery was everywhere but I abstained for a good couple of hours. I walked along the Tiber, through Trastevere and made it all the way to St. Peter’s Square, looking resplendent in the early morning light, and already beginning to fill up with pilgrims cueing for a tour, and the vendors in the various trailers and stalls setting up for the day selling tchotchkes and postcards, food and drinks. I was looking for a nice church to sit in and do my morning readings and meditation but finding one that was either open or quiet proved difficult. I finally stopped at a little restaurant on the Lungo Tevere that wasn’t too crowded (though there was a radio squawking a not quite tuned in correctly to the station in the background) and treated myself to a pot of tea, a fresh squeezed orange juice and a sfoglia (a kind of turnover) with fruit filling. At 14 Euro, I won’t be doing that very often, but it gave me a chance to sit and read and write if not meditate. From there I found my way back up to Santa Sabina on the Aventine near the nuns, one of my few favorite places in Rome. Somewhere I learned that it is the oldest extant church in Rome, 4^th-5^th, century, set up in the oldest basilica style at a time when the church had just taken over that style from the empire (Empire!), with the “choir” in the middle. It’s very plain inside, unusual for Rome, though indications were that at one time it was covered with mosaics. 

After a brief stop at home, I headed back out and took care of a bunch of errands I needed to accomplish to set myself up for the month I will be spending there, including getting a pass for the metropolitano, re-finding the gym I used during my sabbatical, and picking up supplies. Believe it or not I found almost everything I needed at Roma Termini––oat milk, honey, a new plug for my phone, my favorite magazine (Internazionale), and even glue for my fake fingernail (for playing the guitar) at a profumeria. That evening we ate with the nuns, and Thomas arrived from California, a wonderful reunion.

Tuesday there was not much to do except that the three of us, with the addition of Bro. Fabio, who is living and studying at San Gregorio, had a rehearsal of our music for the next day. After a few weeks of feeling a little inadequate at Italian it was kind of a relief to be singing a few things in English and listen to them struggle a little with the pronunciation, though they do pretty well. The “th” is impossible for Italians, and how do you explain the difference between “breath” and “breathe”?! They totally impressed me with their knowledge of the old hymn “Abide With Me” which they sang for me in three-part harmony.

We were all quite nervous-excited about the next day, and decided to meet for breakfast at 6 AM and leave for the Vatican at 6:30. Since there were four of us we decided to splurge on a taxi just this once, since we knew that traffic was going to be impossible and Matteo wanted us there promptly at 7:30. All gussied up in our dress whites and ready to go, we got to the Via della Conciliazione by 7 and we were glad we did because getting inside the inner circle proved a little harder than we thought. Matteo was already inside and kept sending us text messages, but the guards were stalwart in spite of our badges that read “animazione liturgica” with our not-very-flattering photos. By this time we were joined by another of our confreres, Fabian, a young monk from Hildesheim who has just returned to Rome for another year of study. He somehow slipped through the barrier and was taunting us with his complacency from the other side. We finally made it in after walking all the way around the back of the basilica and entering near the Holy Office, where we met Matteo who promptly ushered us into the grand hall that leads to la Scala Reale, the royal staircase that I was told goes to the papal apartments.

At the upper part of the hall were laid out table after table with stoles and chasubles for the priests, bishops and maybe a cardinal or two who were vesting for Mass. At the bottom of the hall were all of the delegates who were not vesting for Mass, which included of course lay people, women and non-Catholics. There was a lot of hubbub and a lot of people greeting each other, and a few well-known faces. My Italian brothers knew a lot of the people there, professors from France or Germany. Thomas’ new rector of JST in Berkeley was there. I kept looking for the Americans and I finally spotted one, Sr. Maria Cimperman, CSJ, who had given our retreat last year and was chosen as a facilitator for the Synod. She was delighted to see me and meet the brothers. Such a spark of optimism and joy! We were there for a good hour and then suddenly the summons came, and we were led in procession by about a dozen Franciscan acolytes and cross and candle bearers (it being the feast of St. Francis) out into St. Peter’s Square, where there was a huge crowd gathered, then down the main aisle and up onto the raised areas around the altar.

And suddenly the Holy Father appeared, pushed up a ramp on the far side in his wheelchair, and the Mass began. I must say, when the pope said the presidential prayers I noticed right away how weak and tired his voice sounded. But when he began to preach it took on life and energy. “The welcoming gaze of Jesus invites us too to be a hospitable Church, not with the doors closed. … The Church must be ‘an easy yoke’ that doesn’t impose weights and that repeats to everyone, ‘Come you who are tired and oppressed, come you who have lost the way or feel yourself far away, come you who have closed the door to hope.”’ He was referencing the gospel of the day, again in honor of St. Francis, Mt 11:25-30. “The Church is for you,” he said. “The Church with doors open to everyone, everyone, everyone.” That was the highlight, when he repeated that three times: a tutti, tutti, tutti, everyone, everyone, everyone.

I was surprised by how quickly the Mass went. At the end someone wheeled Pope Francis to the front of the cement platform and the crowd went wild with applause. I still get goosebumps remembering that. Afterward the crowd of us on the platform just kind of broke up rather unceremoniously.

We had some time to kill, so Fabian led us to the German seminary (and ancient fabled German cemetery) right there on the Vatican grounds, within sight of the walls of the basilica, a place that Pope Benedict like to slip over to every now and then. Fabian had a friend-schoolmate there, one Lennart Luhmann, a Protestant chap working on his doctorate at San Anselmo.  Lennart treated us to cold drinks, coffee and fruit. He spoke Italian hesitatingly, so it was an interesting conversation, switching back and forth between German, English and Italian, something not at all uncommon at the Vatican I came to find out. We then headed over to the other side of the Vatican again where Matteo was lodging and waiting for us.

I should say a word about Matteo. He’s a monk of Camaldoli, the guestmaster, as a matter of fact. He’s also a friend of Mario Grech, the Maltese cardinal who used to be the Pro-Secretary General of the Synod of Bishops and then became the Secretary General of this Synod. Cardinal Grech asked Matteo to plan and guide all the liturgies for the Synod. It was he who recruited me to supply the English psalms and hymns, and the rest of us to come and sing each day, as well as recruiting the sisters of the Congregation of Pie Discepoli to animate the music for Eucharist each day (which we may or may not help with) at St. Peter’s in the Holy Spirit chapel behind the main altar. Matteo seems to know everybody and be doing everything, including helping the pope find the right page in his book and acting as MC for almost everything, quietly behind the scenes, running here and there. 

Matteo was staying at the Domus Romana Sacerdotalis (you can look it up online) just a block or so away from the Vatican itself. He had made reservations for all of us for pranzo that day, and that was a fascinating experience. In the foyer, in the sala da pranzo itself, swarming with priests, bishops, cardinals, all in a very relaxed state. (I did see one Sister, most likely a lunch guest.) While at the lunch we got approached a number of times, as we did on the street, by people asking us what order we were, not recognizing the habit. (The cincture on the outside throws everyone off.) Some thought we were canons regular. A very friendly German-speaking man approached and wanted to talk and talk with me. I found out he was a Franciscan from Austria and knows David Steindl-Rast very well. Another theologian, a Fr. Giles from Ottawa Canada asked to sit with us since we had a space open at the table. They both spoke fine English but kept switching back to Italian, which I found interesting. Fr. Giles is in Rome as a theological consultant and had some very interesting insights into the intellectual background of the Synod. He also knows Bishop Barron quite well, having lived with him in Paris when they were both students there. We had not yet caught sight of Barron, though he was there in Rome somewhere.

Then we headed over to the Paul VI audience hall for our major contribution of the day, the real opening event of the Synod. We had a good long time to wait yet, and had all the usual problems with sound technicians and placement, etc. I walked around looking at all the names at the tables set up throughout the hall, which were on little computer tablets pads attached to a bank of headphones, I assume for instant translation. 

But the surprising thing was that about a half an hour before we began, when there was hardly anyone in the hall, suddenly the pope got wheeled in and was being pushed around the hall, as if he was checking on all the preparations and greeting all the organizers. Of course, a line formed to greet him. I would have left him to his peace but the others wanted to greet him and so we did. He didn’t seem overimpressed with us, but at least I can say I have shaken his hand twice now.

Then came the opening prayer, which we led musically––the Veni Creator Spiritus, “Let the Word Make a Home in Your Heart” to introduce a liturgy of the Word, a psalm in Italian between the readings, and a closing hymn. There was some trouble with the microphones at first (there is no acoustic whatsoever in that hall), so the first verse of “Let the Word” was a little muffled, but it picked up after that, and it was very moving to sing it and to hear it being sung back by the Holy Father and the rest of the assembly.

The other guys left after the service, but Emanuele and I stayed on because Matteo wanted Emanuele to play the organ for the closing Marian antiphon. That was the only time we will be allowed into the assembly after we sing, and we heard them begin their work. They were addressed first by the Holy Father himself. He was sitting at the head table with five others. He had three quotes from Maximus the Confessor printed up and had had them passed out to everyone. Other than that, he certainly seemed to be speaking without notes, very spontaneously, about what he hoped for from this synod. We then heard from Cardinal Grech, then from another rather jolly German Jesuit bishop, giving some marching orders. The latter mentioned the elephant in the room when he said that the bishops who had not taken part in the synodal process thus far in their own dioceses (and there were undoubtably a few in the room) might have a hard time with the process in the next days, the process of listening with open minds and hearts, without preconceived responses. We then heard from a Polish bishop about his experience with the synodal process in his diocese, and then, interestingly enough, from an Indian lay man, a catechist, I believe, from the small community of Catholics in the United Arab Emirates. What a unique voice to hear!

There was a break between the opening prayer and the general assembly, during which time I met several people, including our Austrian Franciscan friend again. That’s when I discovered he was actually the archbishop of Salzburg. I also took the liberty of introducing myself to Cardinal Wilton Gregory with the excuse being that we know people in common, our Br. Hugh, OCSO, and Sr. Barbara Long, OP, about both of whom he was delighted to hear. (Sr. Barbara had been his seventh and eighth grade teacher.) I was walking back from the bathroom at one point right behind Cardinal Sean O’Malley, who I admire greatly, and I took the liberty of speaking to him too. I wasn’t sure how to call out to him, so I just said, “Fr. Sean!” And he turned around and we had a really nice conversation. He’s taller than I thought, and he has very intense kindly eyes with which he is not afraid to hold your gaze in the silence. He was in his cardinal-red finery that day, but he showed up the next morning back in his Franciscan habit.

What else can I tell you? After the event broke up for the night, Emanuele and I made a mad dash across the piazza to the Metro station at Ottaviani a few blocks away to catch the train home. Running through the streets of Rome and riding on the super-crowded subway in full white habit may not be the most unusual sight there, but it was kind of madcap funny anyway. The nuns had put something aside for us for dinner and then it was time to pack up and get ready for the next day. All in all, though I was soaked in sweat and pretty tired, it had been a glorious day and I feel so honored to have been a part of it.

The next day, Thursday, the four of us packed into a car this time and assisted as we could at the early Mass in the Holy Spirit Chapel at St. Peter’s. Kind of an underwhelming affair, not many were there, a long line of bishops and cardinals far far away from the assembly in the presbytery, music from another Mass resounding through the cavernous building. Matteo again had led us through to a parking place right by Paul VI hall and then through the labyrinthine halls of the sacristy building and out into the church itself. (He told us he had been there in the basilica early that morning all by himself! That must have been an interesting experience.) And then we led the first of many morning prayers to come (actually Terce) back in the audience hall. Everyone was a lot more dressed down now, even the bishops and cardinals in plain clerics instead of the purple and red. Thomas acted as spokesperson, explaining to the assembly how we would sing, and then we sang, my hymn “O Breathe on Me O Breath of God” from “Lord Open My Lips,” then two psalms in Italian and another in English. I must say, it’s a pretty moving experience to have one’s own music there in the heart of the church sung by these representatives from all over the world.

After that another mad dash to Roma Termini to catch a train since Emanuele and I were heading back up north to Arezzo, then he to Camaldoli and I to Poppi where I am currently giving a retreat at our nuns’ monastery. I can write something about that later. I have some more notes about Wednesday, but I left them back in Rome. Maybe I’ll add something more later. For now, I’ll post this and I’m off to give a conference. Tomorrow we head back to Rome.

Every blessing from the Casentino, where the view out of every window looks like a painting.

the visitation ends

 Saturday, 30 september 23, St Jerome

After the morning of finance meetings, we had a lighter afternoon. Alessandro wanted to show us the azienda agricola(basically “the farm”––laborotorio (the laboratory where the cremes and cosmetics are made, la cantina antica e nuova(the new and old cellar), le case coloniche (the houses that Camaldoli owns) and the Mausolea (there is no translation for that word that I can find, but it is not a mausoleum). The last first.

 

It’s got a complicated history. Originally it was called the musoleo. Somewhere along the line it became feminine, la musolea, and then morphed into its current named. I read all about it in the collection of don Ugo’s historical essays a few years back. It is basically a large villa about five miles from Camaldoli. Though the lands around seem to have been given to the monks as early as the end of the 11^th century, I believe the first iteration of the villa itself was built in the 13^thcentury, mainly as a place to house the folks who did all the farm work, and took care of the vineyards and the laboratory for the Farmacia. The current version only comes from the 15^th century (!), built by the famous prior general Pietro Delfini, a humanist who wanted the monks (the cenobites at least) to be involved in rigorous manual labor on the land. At one time the Prior General actually lived there, back when such ecclesial positions were high in society. At another point during the suppression in the late 19^th century under the Savoy government some monks lived there as well until the hermitage and monastery were re-opened in the 1930s. A few monks continued to live there until late in the 20^th century, including the noted scholar and liturgist Cipriano Vagaggini. 

 

The last group to use it was called La Grande Via, led by a well-known Dr. Franco Berino and Enrica Bortolazzi. The aim of their program was to “encourage health, wellbeing and longevity, prevent chronic illnesses and early aging and help re-establish a state of health in people hit by chronic illnesses associated with incorrect lifestyles.” (Rough translation from their website.) I visited them once and was quite impressed with their work. They have been gone for about a year and now the place is empty, and Alessandro is hoping to do something new with it, a retreat center or agroturismo of some sort. It’s a marvelous place, very large inside. It has got two huge spaces which were used for yoga and meditation in its last iteration, more than twenty rooms for sleeping, several conference halls, an industrial sized kitchen and a refectory, two little chapels, etc., etc. 

 

Then we saw the antica cantina, the old wine cellar full of centuries-old wine barrels, now empty, that seemed to go on and on. (I, of course, was on the lookout for my old enemy, i pipistrelli–the bats, which I was warned might be there. They thought it was rather silly that I am terrified of bats.) We then saw the la nuova cantina which is not a cellar at all but a handsome sturdy metal building where the wines are made. Mario was particularly excited since he seems to know wines pretty well. He got very enthused when we got to the spumante. (He might have been waiting for a free sample, but none was offered, alas.) I was entertained to find that they sell wine in a box now and on the package it says, in English, “wine in a box” which seemed somewhat disappointing compared to the normal florid Tuscan lexicon. 

 

We had been led on this whole tour by a young man named Lucca who has charge of the entire scope of the azienda agricola, and he was in the meantime pointing out the lands around us that are part of Camaldoli still, in the place mostly vineyards. Then we got in cars, crossed the road and drove up a long unpaved road to see the stalls where all the cows are kept. (To my vegetarian ahimsa horror, we raise young calves specifically for vitello–veal, which I think is heinous, but I held my tongue.) And then on up the road to visit all the houses that we own, in greater or lesser states of repair. All the way up the long road Alessandro kept saying, “This is our land” and “These are our fields” and “Those over there are our houses.” It’s quite a lot to manage and of course in these times of economic hardship for the congregation he is very intent on making the best use of it all. Some of the houses have had or have semi-permanent occupants. 

 

One of the apartments is now inhabited by an elderly Brazilian woman, Elena, who I had met two years ago at Poppi, where she was living with the nuns at the time. Now she is on her hermit own, living next to a little chapel dedicated to San Martino that she maintains and where she also does her handwork of creating weavings on a loom.

 

On the way back, Alessandro asked if we wanted some gelato. I hope I didn’t answer too quickly. It was just the treat I needed after a long day, in the little town of Soci.

 

Sunday, 1 oct 23

 

Wednesday and Thursday were somewhat uneventful. We had personal meetings in the mornings and group meeting with the brothers from the Eremo in the afternoon. By now I was finally over my jetlag (!) and had established a pretty good routine. Just like at home, I skipped colazione with the brothers, and headed out for a run or walk right after morning prayer. We were delighted that so many brothers came for personal meetings. For various reasons we thought that here at the monastery there would not have been so many. 

 

By then we had also already begun to write up our reports. The ones for the initial visits at the separate communities I had done a good draft and then Mario would lavare i miei panni–“wash my clothes,” a Florentine euphemism for cleaning up your Italian and we would add together other thoughts. I must say I was, and Mario as well, very careful with every word, particularly not in my own native tongue. I always think that setting just the right tone is so important. I kept thinking of the line from the letter to the Ephesians: speaking the truth with love. If it isn’t true, it’s not really loving. But at the same time, if it isn’t loving, it ain’t really true. And the other image I kept offering Mario was of a mirror. I felt like our job is simply to hold a mirror up to the community, with no judgement. And if possible, any recommendations would come from themselves. There were some difficult things that brothers wanted said and I think we addressed them appropriately. But I was nervous.

 

And then there was an additional report to write up for the two places together. The brothers here do not like to refer to the “two communities” or even “the communities” of Camaldoli. They prefer (or at least some of them do) to refer to themselves as one community in two places. That is pretty hard to convey. Mario had a really fine idea for that one drawn from his background in ecology and forestry studies and asked if he could start writing the draft for that one, which I was only too happy to concede. (Normally, it’s the first visitator who writes the reports.) 

 

I was a little nervous presenting the relazione to the brothers at the monastery since there was a little contention up at the Eremo, and we had some even harder things to address down there, and some other suggestions that I knew might not go over well. I read it out to the assembled brothers Friday afternoon and my nervousness almost got the better of me. I was tripping over words and got kind of slavishly attached to the written text. At one point someone corrected my pronunciation of a word––in mid-sentence!––which I had not actually mispronounced, and that threw me off a little more, but I recovered and brought it in for a landing. To my relief it was received very well, and we had a nice discussion. There had been a long pause and I said that if there was nothing else to say we could go. But Alessandro said, “Aspetta un attimo. Ci vuole un po tempo per gli italiani––Wait a minute. It takes a little time for the Italians.” And Mario said “Il fuoco Italiano è lento ad accendersi ma lungo a bruciare––Italian fire is slow to light but it burns long.”

 

Alessandro had offered to take us out to dinner again Thursday or Friday night, but we had to sadly but wisely refuse. We wound up spending a good deal of time after dinner (from about 8:00 PM on, not at all my best time in any country) working on both reports but especially the last one for the combined monks. Mario did a wonderful job with the draft, very poetic. We went through and worked on the practical things together, suggestions and recommendations. Only once all week did we say, “We strongly urge the community to…” and refer to it as “urgent and necessary.” 

 

I don’t think it is any breach of protocol to share with you Mario’s introduction. I spent many hours hiking through and marveling at this amazing forest of fir trees these past two weeks, so this especially resonated with me.

 

During the visit to the Hermitage and the Monastery of Camaldoli, several brothers compared the community to a centuries-old plant in which lifeblood flows. This reference demonstrates the close bond that still exists between the monks of Camaldoli and the forest in which they live. The relationship between the monks and the forest is an integral part of the Camaldolese-Romualdine experience. Saint Romualdo himself chose the dense forest as a privileged and favorable place for contemplation and prayer. His successors codified the methods of interaction between the monks and the forest which gives them hospitality, protection and means of subsistence, into their constitutions and rules of life. The monks contemplated the soaring white fir trunks which invite us to raise our gaze and praise towards the sky. For this reason, they begin to plant more and more fir trees. They made it a pure, homogeneous forest, without other tree species.

 

That fir forest has survived to this day. But the pure cultivation of silver fir does not renew itself naturally, because the plants are too dense and there is not enough light for other plants to grow. The renewal of the forest requires care and work and necessarily involves the clear cutting of a part of the forest and the planting of new plants. This is why today the management of the forest by the relevant parties is changing. Not it’s a matter of encouraging the possibility for other tree species (beeches, maples, hornbeams, oaks) to put down roots and grow together with the silver firs. The greater biodiversity allows each of the species, including the fir, to be reborn naturally through the seeds that fall to the ground. Different plants create a richer and more vital ecosystem that favors the renewal of all species, even if at the expense of the concept of purity, that is, of a certain order and geometric perfection of the forest and individual plants.

 

There’s the magic phrase that somehow ties in also with the upcoming Synod on Synodality: “a richer and more vital ecosystem that favors the renewal of all species, even if at the expense of the concept of purity.” And then we ended with this paragraph which I thought was very strong, tying into both the Synod and the theme for our upcoming Chapter––“Being Present to the Presence in the Present.”

 

The richness of our Congregation consists in its diversity and flexibility, which gives us a certain availability to the Spirit, and allows us to respect each person with their needs and their personal journey. This diversity is to be appreciated and celebrated. There is always the danger of absolutizing one’s way of living Camaldolese monasticism. There are different ways of being a monk, a Camaldolese: hermit, cenobite, missionary... However, what unites us, like the roots of plants intertwined in the humus of our forest––our tradition, the liturgy and Lectio Divina, the silence and sobriety of the cell, and above all the search for God––is greater than what differentiates us from one another. If a brother lives the Camaldolese charism in a different way from mine, that should not be perceived as a threat, but as an opportunity to exercise magnanimity, in the unity of the personal and communal vocation of our three-fold good. The world around us, as well as the Church, needs to learn this synodal attitude, this way of being “present”: celebrating, embracing and encouraging diversity. We Camaldolese monks are a model of this, and we wish to continue to be more and more.

 

This time I was patient waiting for the Italian fire to light and it burned very nicely without any argumentation for a good hour. Several of the brothers expressed their appreciation for the hard work we had done and for both the tone we had set and the mirror we had held up. We had a wonderful meal with everybody and then––Whew!––what a sense of relief!

 

I had a little more to do yet last night––both teach my month Zoom session and take part in another Zoom conference for our friend Douglas Christie from LMU, but that was kind of fun after all that other work. And fun to do it form here. Thanks God my cell has really good intenet. And it was nice to see familiar friendly faces on the former, and Bede as well as Paula Huston and Elbina on the latter––and speak in English! The only downside was that I had to miss pizza night…

 

Today several have left already for Rome so morning prayer was somewhat more muted than usual. I got in my last morning run and treated myself to some schiacciata at the schiacciateria across the street. Schiacciata is a specialty in this region, kind of like a think pizza dough or a smashed (schiacciare actually means “to smash”) focaccia with various toppings. I had a big piece filled with chocolate. (Hey, I earned it!) I can hear the Sunday crowds, tourists and pilgrims, right outside my window as I type, a really lovely sound. 

 

After Mass and pranzo, Bro. Emanuele and I will take the train down to Rome, where we will eventually meet the other brothers and begin our preparations for the Synod. Thomas Mazzocco arrives tomorrow from Berkeley. It will be so good to see him. But first… I learned another new word––letargo: I am going to go into hibernation–letargo for a couple of days.

 

Ciao for now…

second week of visitation so far

 Wednesday, 27 september 23

 I have had a hard time remembering what day it is… One sweet thing is that Vigils has been suspended for the entire week of the Visitation so I have these luscious extra couple of hours to myself in the early morning.

 

So we started out the Visitation in an interesting way that sort of happened on the fly. Giuseppe, who is the novice master here and is also serving as vice-prior pro temp, suggested that we have an incontro with the men in formation. They usually get referred to as i giovani, the young guys, but I have a tendency to avoid that term. Some of the are indeed young (the youngest being 21, one of two Tanzanians) but the others are well into their 30s, 40s and 50s. Even if they are in the first stages of formation, several of them have a good deal of life experience behind them as well as some experience of religious life in two cases. We were ten in all, with Mario and I, a group that included a Brazilian (Edmario) and the two young Tanzanians, Erasto and Stefano (Ste-FAN-o, he pointed out to me) who have only been here a few months and who, besides being shy, are still just beginning to learn Italian.

That’s the first noticeable thing, and toward the end I remarked to the whole group, how fortunate they are to have this international and intercultural experience, and how that makes Camaldoli such a unique place. There are two guys from India here in Italy right now as well, Adaikalam, who is now down in Rome beginning his study in Latin and Greek, and another older one, Rippon, just visiting for a few weeks; and there had been the two guys from China until recently here as well. For a small congregation to have representatives from India, China, Africa, South America and little ol’ USA is pretty impressive.

Mario and I each introduced ourselves and then went around the table and asked each of them to tell us a little about themselves too. That’s when we got to see the full array of life experiences. We then asked about the formation program in general, and honed on in a few points that had been raised: the personalized approach to formation (I taught them the term “cookie cutter” and they taught me stampino, which is what we Camaldolese are definitely not), we talked about holistic spirituality (which means a little something different to them than it does to the guy who wrote Spirit Soul Body), the sapiential approach (Bruno Barnhart’s name was brought up with reverence), and the experience of living at the hermitage instead of the monastery (they each get some periods there during formation, and one, Giuseppe, lives there now during simple vows). I was afraid it would be stilted and tedious but it was anything but. They gave us a lot of confirmation to put in our final report.

We also began with our personal encounters on Saturday and Sunday mornings. My old friend Fede took me for a nice run on Sunday afternoon and told me all about his academic adventure. He is doing his degree at the Istituto Ponteficio di Musica Sacra in Rome, and his first year has been full of piano lessons and semiology studies, participation in choirs as well as conducting lessons. From the latter I got a great maxim: Il tuo gesto è già musica, il tuo respiro già suono–“Your gesture is already music, your breath is already sound.” On the way out he told me all about the history he is learning about the origins of the notation of Gregorian chant. Pretty impressive, and of he is very passionate about it. I asked him what he might do with all this (he has a background in rock n’ roll and is a very talented guitarist and singer) and he wasn’t quite sure. 

The Italians are pretty brilliant at preserving the past, as evidenced also by the amazing new library/archive here at the monastery which has won a few architectural prizes. But of course none of us monks want to live in a museum, as Robert used to say. Well, perhaps I shouldn’t say none of us, but certainly the Prior General, Mario, Fede, and I don’t. I find myself reflecting on that a lot when I am here in Italy, so deeply rooted in history but perhaps at times so entrenched in it that it’s difficult to move forward. I think that is what is so attractive and perhaps can be so annoying about us Americans: we have this great forward movement to us, openness and a “can do” spirit, and yet we can be a little shallow when it comes to a sense of the long arc of history––languages, literature, philosophy, culture, tradition. 

I must admit that I get a little apocalyptic at times and ask myself, “Why bother? The planet might be uninhabitable in a few years or Russia might unleash an atomic war and blot us all off the planet (or Donald Trump might get re-elected and take away NPR and put all of us liberals in concentration camps).” And yet the more I read about the upcoming Synod and the Holy Father’s push to be in conversation with the modern world so as to keep the Church relevant and engaged, the more I get energized. The underlying question I have rolling on my mind like a drone is “What does the church and the world need of us monks right now, and what is the best way to live on the planet and prepare for tomorrow?” I guess that is the questions that has been rolling around in me for over twenty years and part of the underlying motivation for my ten years in Santa Cruz. The answers that come through the fog are slightly different at 65 years old in 2023 than they were at 44 in 2002, and even more subtle.

 

Thursday, 28 september 23

 

The week has been quite full. Monday Giuseppe, the acting vice-prior of the community (the vice-prior for the last six years was named bishop of a diocese in Sardinia and ordained the same weekend I arrived in Italy), gave a very comprehensive report on the community, and of course a discussion opened up. We ended with an image from Mario that we didn’t have enough time to explore: the sap that runs through the branches of Camaldoli. What is it? We hope to return to that. 

Tuesday morning we had a two hour meeting with the financial manager of Camaldoli in the administrative office. Thanks to ten years of looking at financial reports and FAB meetings and the patient tutoring of Jeri, once I got some of the vocabulary down (utile, doesn’t mean “useful,” it means “profit”; mutuo doesn’t mean “mutual”; it means “loan”) I knew how to run the columns and do the numbers. The FAB would have been proud of me.

It’s no secret that these have been hard years for Italy in general and for Camaldoli specifically. Besides Covid (you may remember that Italy was hit early and hard), the war in Ukraine has affects here that we do not feel in the US, particularly fuel but also grain and other food stuffs. Besides that, the Antica Farmacia lost a huge customer from Korea for its creams that brought in up to $700,000 a year. So big decisions have to be made and, like us, they are looking at ways to bring in more income as well as looking at all the expenses. One thing that the motherhouse has that we do not is that it is supporting dependent houses, the foundations in Brazil and Tanzania, besides some significant financial help it has offered to a few of our other communities. Kind of like a parent waiting for his or her children to grow up, stand on their own two feet and maybe pay back a little.

After the meeting with the financial manager we had another two hours with all those responsible for income producing activities––the liquorificio that makes the famous laurus and all the other liqueurs, the small but hardy bookstore, the laboratorio that makes the creams, the foresteria (guest house) which has seen a real surprising decline in profit over the last five years, and also the farmacia in general, which the Prior General himself is overseeing and for which he has been actively pursuing a new line of perfume. 

Later Alessandro asked me if I followed everything or if I was tired. I admitted that at a certain point it was like hypnosis; all the words just sort of blurred into a drone, which made him laugh. But four hours discussing finances was a real onslaught, I must admit. Mario is pretty good with numbers and ideas, so I let him carry the ball. 

Giuseppe has graciously suspended Vigils this whole week of the Visitation, for which I have never been so relieved! So I’m gonna post this and get in a little stretching and breathing.

Bless you all!

the first week of visitation

22 september 23

 

It’s hard to believe I have only been here in Italy a week, but such is the case. I arrived at a hot and humid Rome last Friday early afternoon, an uneventful direct overnight flight from San Francisco. Our old friend Mario Zanotti, now stationed at San Gregorio in Rome and my fellow visitator, met me at the airport and whisked me to the monastery. I was feeling pretty grimy after the long flight, and I did not want to sleep, so I put on my walking shoes and took a good walk, my favorite itinerary, up to Roma Termini, around Santa Maria Maggiore, Via Cavour, etc. Also a chance to practice my Italian with some merchants, buying a panino and a spremuta at the station. Then back to San Gregorio, shower, evening prayer with the brothers. Only a small group there now for the summer season but the students are starting to return already. Our oblates, friends (and employees) Louise and Gabe Quiroz were in Rome for the Congress of Benedictine Oblates at Sant’Anselmo, and Friday night they treated George and I to a wonderful meal in Trastevere. I spent Saturday walking again, reading and writing, letting my soul catch up with my body. Then Sunday, after a nice morning run around the Colosseum, we had Mass and pranzo and it was time for Mario and me to drive to Camaldoli where we arrived just before cena.

 

I am here in an official role as the Visitator of our mother house, the dual community of the monastery and hermitage of Camaldoli. Normally members of the Consiglio Generalizio, the Prior General’s three assistants, do the visitations to all the houses around the world, but two special visitators are elected for the mother house, since it is the Prior General’s own abode. That honor-duty fell to Mario and me this time. 

 

The Italians observe a little more ceremony around the visitations than we do. Monday morning we met with the Prior General and he offered us a schema of the days ahead, how we might proceed. Then, as of pranzo that day, he, in a sense, steps down as prior of the community and the 1^st Visitator (me, this time) steps in for all ceremonial roles. I pray the opening prayer at lunch and decide when lunch is going to end. They wait for me to signal when to enter the church in procession and when to leave at the end of prayers. It all felt very strange at first, unseating the Prior General, but I got used to it quickly. It’s not very much different from what I do at home, and Alessandro is as always very gracious.

 

Monday afternoon we had our first riunione with all the monks, including those from the Sacro Eremo who came down for that purpose. Again I had to open the meeting with a few shorts remarks, then the word fell to Alessandro to give his presentation of the community over the last six years. As always, his remarks were very global in their perspective, the state of the world and the state of the Church as well as the state of the community and congregation. The floor was open for discussion of what he had brought up. Not too many spoke but enough so that it was not uncomfortable. We then presented the schema for the week ahead, and that’s when I got to see the Italians at their most characteristic. I could barely follow the discussion, arguing about how many meetings there would be, when and if the two communities should meet together (you could see the polemics arise between the hermits and the cenobites!), what ought to be discussed, etc. etc. In the end it was decided that we would re-write the schema. This was all new to me since I have never done a vistation before. Mario has had some experience, so I let him carry the load.

Then we had Mass with Vespers with me preaching. I find that to be one of the most nerve-wracking challenges––to preside and preach at Mass not only in a different place but in a different language, being so at ease doing so in my own. Of course I had everything written out and had gone over the missals countless times to make sure I know where the prayers were. It went fine. A big festive meal followed with all the monks from both communities again, and then the next day, Tuesday, we headed up to the Sacro Eremo.

 

The Visitation at the Sacro Eremo, I must say, went very well. It was nice to get started on such a good note. The vice-prior, Alberto, gave his opening remarks. As always, he was brief and to the point, every word weighed and poignant. We then opened the floor for discussion. It took a few minutes, but pretty soon a pretty lively discussion took place. We were to deal with certain topics along the way––liturgy, Lectio Divina, hospitality, the economy––one at a time. Having never done a visitation before may have been to my benefit since I had no preconceived notions of how they should flow. But every community meeting we held went pretty much the same way: a topic was introduced by someone, and then the guys just talked. At the end several of them said how different this was from other visitations and that they liked it a lot. 

 

After that first meeting we had a bit of a scare. Several of us noticed that Alberto’s voice was a little odd, almost as if he was half asleep, kind of slurring his words a bit. After the meeting while walking to his cell––thankfully someone was with him––suddenly he started dragging one foot and was not able to move half of his face. An ambulance was called, and he was carted down to the monastery where a helicopter whisked him off to a hospital near Florence. He had indeed suffered a minor stroke, which they think was due to a blood clot resulting from a surgery he had last summer. Fortunately, he recovered rather quickly but they kept him two nights to make sure.

 

Alberto is often described as a living saint, so there was great concern. I think he’s an amazing guy; he loves life at the Eremo and works hard to protect it, and yet he is very open to other expressions of the life as well. He is soft-spoken but I find him also to be fearless in saying what he thinks. He has very intense eyes and a very long beard. One of my favorite moments of the week was when he was talking about another monk who died some years ago who used to give the young guys a good piece of advice when they complained about not enough silence and solitude. Se vuoi silenzio, stai zito––“If you want silence, shut up.”

 

We had individual meetings with the monks each afternoon, and again I am thankful to say that many signed up for them and they were wonderful encounters. Thursday afternoon I began to write up our relazione, our report to the community, as is our due as visitators, which we were then to read to the community at the end. My aim was to keep it short (even as the Prior General had encouraged me to do) and just reflect back what we had heard. I did my draft and sent it to Mario and then Friday morning we worked together on the final version, adding some things and trying to get every word right. I was a little nervous about a few things and had him change one sentence just before we printed copies for everyone. The other tense part of this, of course, is that the Prior General is present for all of this since he is technically the prior of both houses, though the vice priors ideally run things. So if there is any hint of criticism it could be seen as criticizing the Prior General. And if you know our Prior General, Alessandro, you will know that he is a force to be reckoned with. 

 

We were both very pleased with the report and a really fine discussion opened up again, and I think it ended well. The last thing we told them was that it been a joy to find a community so at peace with one another, and such a welcoming environment. These are the three words that we heard from then that we fed back to them as a mirror of their communitarian identity: discretion, peace, and brotherhood.

 

We packed up and headed down to the monastery in the early evening and then Alessandro took Mario and I out for a wonderful dinner at a local restaurant last night. I didn’t even realize how much I needed a little break after a pretty intense week, and we had a great time together, not talking “business” at all. It was nice to see Alessandro relaxed, laughing and enjoying himself. He is carrying quite a load. 

 

Today begins the visitation here at the monastery, a very different environment and climate. We have a meeting with the men in formation this morning and then the beginning of our personal interviews this afternoon. I’m also in the meantime doing laundry…