For the last few months, I have been spending a weekend each month with the monks at St. Martin’s Abbey. I’ve been craving quiet and respite from the news and conflict. I yearned to hear conversations about Jesus. And I wanted to drink in the language of the psalms — for the words to heal my soul.
The first thing you notice about the monks is the clothing that they wear. Long black robes and hooded cloaks. These clothes mark them as different, holy people, set apart for Christ. The second thing you notice is how incredibly slow they walk. Even though their days are quite structured between prayer and meals and work, they walk as if they do not have to be anywhere but right where they are.
When I have conversations with these wonderful men of God, their words are measured. The language and words are sprinkled with kindness and goodness and truth. There is nothing extra. These chats give you the sense of being grounded. On solid footing. Close to God.
These brothers in Christ are holy men. I think of them, up there on the hill above St. Martin’s University, and find comfort knowing they are praying for me, for us, for the Church.
But then I remember, it is not just these men who are called to be holy. I too, as a Christian, as a Catholic, am called to be holy.
If I am honest with myself, I know that, besides the monks, there is a part of me that makes fun of those types of Christians who are so obviously different than the rest of us. Those Christians who turn their thoughts to Jesus in the clothing they wear, the food they eat, where they spend their time and who with, and who watch the information they allow into their minds and souls.
These Christians who think of Jesus with every step, who react differently to conflict, whose manner of communication is different. When the rest of us are spinning with our latest outrage, they are calm, sometimes even joyful. They are set apart from the rest of us.
Set apart. That’s what the word holy means. Sacred.
We are called to be holy.
St. Peter reminds us to be self-controlled, to live soberly. Set your hopes completely on the grace of Jesus Christ. Do not act like you did before you knew Jesus. Do not conform to the world around you. “As he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in every aspect of your conduct, for it is written, ‘Be holy because I am holy’” (1 Peter 1:15-16).
I am feeling this. I think that is why I keep returning to the abbey to be with the monks. I sense that call and conviction for myself, for my family and for our Church — to be holy. I don’t want to be afraid of looking different or of being made fun of anymore.
It’s time — for our sense of community, our sense of justice, and our Church to look completely different. To be set apart, holy and completely dependent on the grace of Jesus.
Northwest Catholic — June/July 2022