Well, we are into the retreat. Given the formal prayer time of each day, a retreat almost seems like an overdose of things spiritual. It is wonderful to see how silence is just the normal and accepted part of the way of life. There is a rather odd choice of book being read in the refectory during the silent meals. It seems to be a modern "classic" about the maltreatment of people in a "psychiatric hospital for negroes" recorded in very recent times. There are passages of description of the worst sort of institutional abuse: overcrowding, neglect, denial of medicines. It is not the best thing to be listening to while eating. But I think that a book, once chosen, is read from start to finish. We are on Chapter 35 and it sounds as though there is a long way to go.
With four conferences done, I must be grateful for the attentiveness of the listeners. I wonder if they think what I have to say just too obvious and simplistic. I shall get some comments as things progress, I am sure. It is very helpful to hear what they have to say, even if it be negative, as I can then better gauge what is the right sort of material for a given audience. I think that they are gradually getting used to my style. The monk who races around in reverse in his wheel chair came to see me and thanked me for the morning conference, the contents of which he then began to describe in some detail. Suddenly he stopped and said, "and that is when I fell asleep". He quickly explained that he dozes off anywhere at any time due to his medication. I was relieved and quite happy to repeat the second half of the conference for him.
I walked further afield in the college campus, in the bright sunshine. The dormitories are impressive. The newest ones are copies of colonial cottages found in Manchester, the homes of the factory workers. Not only are the buildings of top quality but the setting, within the woodland, is delightful. The college is evidently doing well and I am told that it now has an endowment of one hundred million dollars.
I went to the library in the hope of getting onto the wifi of the college. At the moment, I have emails only arriving on my phone so I cannot send my diary as yet. Strange to think that in the technology of the States, the monastery and its surrounds manage to be an oasis of electronic drought. The library is quite magnificent with armchairs and carpeted areas: I have seen the reception and lounges of opulent London hotels not look so luxurious. Of course, while there are stacks of books, they seem to have been moved to the edges of the public areas and there were rows of computer screens. I must go back to the law library in the St Cross Building in Oxford. When I used it on almost a daily basis there was not a computer screen in sight: a library meant books and bookshelves with written requests for rarer volumes being submitted to the librarians for retrieval from hidden archive rooms. I do not suppose I would recognise it now.
I am happy to announce that the rather gruesome book about the hospital has been replaced. It took the permission of the Abbot, at the request of the reader and the Prior but we have happily moved on to a book about monasticism by Basil Hume. Much better.
After supper we had recreation which is really the only time in the day when the monks are free to engage in general conversation - the rest of the time they are to avoid conversations that are not associated with their duties. They are certainly a diverse group and there was plenty of laughter. Most of them went for a walk around the grounds as the sun was setting. They are good company.
Still no connection so plenty of emails have arrived on my phone but I have answered none of them and my diary remains stuck on the iPad but I may get it sent tomorrow. END OF DAY THREE.
