Well, I seem to have got into a routine of writing a diary during my travels, so I shall at least start a journal about this short visit to New Hampshire and see if it develops.
The invitation to give a retreat to this community of Benedictine monks came just over a year ago when I met the Abbot at the episcopal ordination of Robert Deeley. I had travelled to Boston as I had been a contemporary of Robert when we had studied Canon Law together in Rome, all too many years ago. In that study group was also Jonathan De Felice, a monk from this Abbey of St Anselm. So I have been here twice before. I was flattered by the invitation to give the retreat and said all too quickly that I would do it. As the months passed I began to see the recklessness of thinking that I could give spiritual conferences to monks. What have I got to say to these people who are steeped in prayer and a life of silence and recollection? Madness. However, it was too late to change the plans and now I am here.
The journey was easy - even Terminal 5 at Heathrow threw up no significant problems. Due to faulty information my flight to Boston got confused with a flight to Seattle and we found both flights boarding at the same gate at the same time. Fortunately that was settled before we found ourselves three thousand miles from where we intended to be.
I had a very pleasant companion on the flight. Paul was travelling back to Boston with his wife, his parents and his two daughters after his elder daughter's graduation at an American university in London. He is a manager of a team of craftsmen who fit out prestige stores like Harrods and Tiffanys, in cities in America. He was a Bostonian by birth and we had two or three conversations during the flight of seven hours.
I was met by Jonathan De Felice at the airport for the hour's drive to Manchester. For those who know the area, it is one of the prettiest parts of New England. It is, of course, spectacular in the fall, with its strong autumn colours, but it also looks rather splendid in the new life of the spring. Manchester is only a city of about 100,000 people but it is spread over a wide area with suburbs, commercial and industrial areas all divided and disguised by extensive woodlands. It is immediately obvious that a car is essential here.
St Anselm's Abbey is now 125 years old. It is now home to a community of about 30 monks. It has a private college, offering first degrees. There are hundreds of such small colleges in the States and this one has a good reputation, with about 2000 students. One of the attractions of the College must certainly be its location. It is built in lush, landscaped woodland and the buildings do not have an institutional feel. Over 90% of the students live on campus in rather elegant small apartment buildings, all surrounded by woodland. There are some excellent sports facilities and to one side are the abbey church and the abbey buildings. The circular church is really quite attractive, built in undecorated brick, with large stained glass windows. In the early morning the sun floods the place with warmth and light.
The monastery has its cloister, filled with bushes and dominated this week by one bush which is just flowering in the brightest pink. It is quite a show stopper. I am so pleased to find that the Benedictine simplicity is retained throughout. The life of the monks is really uncluttered and austere.
I was last here in about 1997. The familiar faces have aged by nearly 20 years but there are some new faces, too. There are three novices and a junior monk. As with any monastic community that I have known, there are the characters. There is one monk who is of the Rithuanian arm of the Ukrainian Rite, but rejoices in the name of Patrick O'Sullivan. Another monk is confined to a wheelchair but travels in it at speed, always in reverse! I am sure that I will discover others.
The first evening is a gentle beginning for me. Being Sunday, the monks have an informal supper in the community room. This is the only meal in the week when they speak. I managed to meet briefly with most of them and thought the evening might go on for a while when suddenly everything was cleared away in a matter of seconds, at 7.30pm, and we went to the church for Compline which was followed by the great silence.
All the monks wear the habit and there is a strong sense of silence in the house. I wonder how much the presence of over 1,700 resident students might intrude on the silence but I am told that the campus is so spread out that noise is not a problem. The students might play music at night but not usually to levels that disturb. There is one bar on campus but only sells alcohol to the few students over 21 years of age.
Certainly the campus is like a ghost town as I arrive. There had been graduation ceremonies the day before and the place would have been packed with visitors but they have all gone. The place looks at its manicured best precisely because of the graduation weekend but it is such a beautiful place. I wonder if the students know how lucky they are. I rather doubt it.
The prayer is lovely. The community meet for Morning Prayer at 6am, Mass at 8.30am, Midday Prayer at 12noon, Evening Prayer at 5.30pm and Compline at 7.30pm. There are no outstanding singers but the slow chant is well presented and meditative. I must say that monastic prayer is something I have always found attractive, though I suspect that I could find it too much if it were part of my regular diet. As it is, it is a good reminder to me when I have slipped into a rushed way of praying. END OF DAY ONE.
