Ava - A Gathering of Cistercians
written 9 February 2002

"On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee. The mother of Jesus was there and Jesus and his disciples had also been invited." John 2:1 NJB

From the time of my arrival at the Abbey on Thursday morning I could feel the excitement in the air. The new abbot's parents were already there. Gradually the place began to fill with visiting Cistercians, each car bringing another abbot or two. Since the Abbey itself only has eight guest rooms, there had been a very pragmatic decision made to house those with autos (whether their own or rented at the airport) at a nearby resort, a trout fishery and haven for fisherman and perhaps hunters. Since it was the off season, housing was inexpensive and plentiful. As there had recently been extensive rain in the area, some creeks were flooded. I myself was supposed to stay in a house about a mile away but the stream crossing the road was flooded, so I ended up staying in the Abbey itself. On the most crowded nights I stayed in the Guest Master's office on a fold down Murphy bed. I had joked with Mark that I would be glad to have a mattress pushed in the corner of a storage closet and almost got my wish. But I was so grateful for the hospitality of that little room that allowed me to get to the offices so easily. The flooding also caused a number of lengthy detours by abbots who had tried to take a shortcut on the map which is clearly marked "subject to flooding." Apparently it is almost twenty miles to go back and around. Our own abbot from Vina who was traveling with the abbess from Redwoods could only get tickets as far as Tulsa, Oklahoma and had to drive for four hours. Abbeys are supposed to be far from the haunts of men and this one really is. They joke that Benedict liked the mountains but Bernard liked the valleys. In this case there are mountains which still have flooding streams. Both men should be satisfied.

Once people had told their travel stories and settled in a bit, conversations in groups of twos and threes began. Ten of the twelve American abbots were there - only Spencer and Snowmass were missing. There were two abbesses, Mother Gail of Mississippi and Kathy daVico of Redwoods. Mother Gail has really earned her title. After looking at me during one of the offices, she came to me and asked in a motherly way if I was all right. When I told her about the cold, she told me to talk to the abbot if I thought I needed to see a doctor and to ask the abbey cook to make me chicken soup. "They've got cans," she said. A man who lives on the abbey grounds started to tell Mother Kathy how much he liked the creamed honey that Redwoods makes. She finally had to pull him off into a corner so he could rant at length.

One of the things that impressed me about the ten abbots plus two abbesses was the lack of howling egos. Get any twelve Episcopal bishops together of whatever gender and you get big dogs barking and baying at the moon and an overwhelming scent of testosterone. There is one who seems larger than life. I think I did hear a bark or two from men who wished they were staying at the abbey itself. Generally they were almost unobtrusive. So is all that bluff and bravado actually just a sign of insecurity? That hadn't occurred to me before. Plenty of reason for our bishops to feel insecure and keep trying to mark their territory and establish their prestige. Too bad we don't believe that God loves us. I think I am much less concerned about my standing and people's impressions of me in direct proportion to my certainty that God loves me. That certainty is one of the benefits of Cistercian life for me and it seems to work for most of their leaders.

Apparently the invitations to the monastic communities are addressed to "The Abbot (or Abbess) of x and a monk (sister) of x." Probably it is an ancient custom for the superior to have a traveling companion for safety or to keep from getting sidetracked. As far as I could tell there were only three non superiors - sisters from Sonoita and Mississippi and a Fr. Bernard from New Melleray. He was the only guest who could actually stay with the monks inside the abbey. I happened to sit next to him at supper. Somehow there is a man from that abbey who went to school with the brother here who died last spring so Fr. B knew about him and one of his friends. Their abbey is also an agricultural house, growing wheat and other crops. His Irish face has been reddened by the sun. Well, actually I'm guessing that he's Irish. The sisters were really lovely, friendly and available for conversation. Sister Suzanne from Mississippi was staying at the Abbey and the sister from Sonoita was staying just a mile down the road (no creek in that direction) with a laura or circle of hermits. She had lived with them for several months prior to making her final vows so this was a renewal of friendships.

I had not seen Trappistine attire up close before. There is the basic visual image of white garment with black scapular but the lean men's house robe becomes a fuller but shorter dress and the scapular has no hood. There is a short black veil with a white front band. This is a neat solution to the problem of rumpled hair at three in the morning. Far better than my knit caps. Their cowl is also without a hood and more like a full Anglican surplice with rounded sleeves. Redwoods is well known as a "unique but orthodox expression of the Cistercian charism." I didn't get a good look at Kathy daVico's attire but it was obviously different. In choir one of the layers had a white hood but her head was uncovered. I was really stirring to see the habited women intermingled with the habited men.

The sister from Sonoita somehow managed to get a box of shortbread cookies in the shape of a saguaro cactus onto and off of her flight without much breakage. She also brought a beautiful blue stole woven by a member of their community. I wonder if she knows that the abbot himself used to be a weaver. Mother Gail had brought a beautiful silver Celtic cross to be the abbot's pectoral cross even though he had told her he didn't plan to use one. In Cistercian abbeys only the abbot wears a visible cross and then usually only on important occasions. There was also a framed icon of the Madonna and Child probably from Genesee and assorted cards and books. I had written something which will appear as another story entitled "A sermon for a blessing."

Three of the greatest gifts came from Vina. The first was a stunning walnut crozier. The second was its description or provenance which read as follows: "LABOR OF LOVE With thirty hearts and two hands this crozier was created for Dom Mark Scott. Handcrafted by brother Carlos Delgado from black walnut wood taken from a tree that had stood on the property for over a century. Felled by an act of nature it was milled and then cured in our 180 year old winery for a decade. God bless Dom Mark and the brothers of Assumption Abbey. Abbey of New Clairvaux, Vina, CA" The text is by Br. Laurin, the calligraphy by Fr. Paul Mark Schwan. When I read the "thirty hearts and two hands," I cried. I know that the men of Vina love and miss Mark. Even so that is probably the first and last time Mark will allow himself to be called Dom. The abbot often has a miter but Mark doesn't want one. Nevertheless, I heard his mother talk about buying one. From what I've heard in the past from new bishops the miters are always too large so you end up looking like you have your head in a bucket. They have to be sent back to be altered. The third great gift from Vina was the sermon by Abbot Thomas Davis which I will describe later.

There were other assorted friends from near and far. Mark's brother and sister-in-law, nephew and some cousins from San Francisco were there. You would know the nephew was related to Mark in an instant. Assorted religious from other communities were there. Pardon me but I cannot keep track of all those different orders. The woman who took me in on my first night in Springfield is a sister of the Incarnate Word. She could not be more aptly titled. When she was in a Catholic high school in Liverpool (a bit of Ireland that got on the wrong side of the Irish Sea, she says) she asked to take Latin and Greek. "Only the boys can take Greek," she was told, "They might become priests." Yet in her forties her order asked her to use her obvious talent for languages to do doctoral work and become a college professor. They wanted to honor her abilities and the salary would be helpful to support their aging community. So she teaches Hebrew, Greek and Latin in the Classics Department of Southwest Missouri State University. Though she cannot live in community, she is fulfilling her vocation in a unique way. She said she came to America to be a missionary and now she feels she is fulfilling that call. Indeed teaching in a secular university where you are regularly exposing unchurched students to the classic writings of the Christian tradition must be deeply satisfying, especially in light of that denial of her own interest when she was a girl.

The one I missed was Rabbi Charles from Pennsylvania whom Mark had befriended that year when they took him in at Vina. I was looking forward to catching up with him. I wonder how he has faired at blending the possibilities of silence with the observance of his prosperous suburban congregation. Wasn't he hoping to marry? He visited 18 months ago and I think of him from time to time. When I first saw him, he was at Vespers in his yarmulke with the fringes of his prayer shawl hanging out from under his vest. I try to be fairly subtle in church but I'm sure my head must have snapped around with a loud crack. Actually I thought about suggesting to Mark that he needed an interfaith and ecumenical section in his procession. At our biggest events the procession is as follows: a crucifer and tapers, choir, interfaith and ecumenical clergy, Episcopal priests from other dioceses, diocesan clergy, dignitaries having a part in the service and the altar party, ending with our bishop. Don't you think the rabbi and I would have looked grand coming in side by side, he in his best yarmulke and prayer shawl, I in my alb, cincture and stole? There certainly would have been a number of heads snapping around. But Charles wasn't there and I was so grateful to be there that I had already decided not to push things by making the suggestion. Actually Jesus will probably come back before I am formally visible in liturgy in a Trappist house. I really don't need it. I do enough fancy dress stuff as an Episcopalian but it is fun to think about.

Finally, by Friday evening, most everyone was there. A pizza party had been arranged in the guest common rooms. The pizzas were imported from Round Table and there were various hors d'oeuvres. Unfortunately what Mark thought was a case of beer turned out to be only a six-pack so he was reduced to saying, "Well, now there are five." There were plenty of wine and the house favorite - lemonade. I didn't even try to stay in the swim in the crowded guest dining room but moved into the entry/living room where seats were available. Fortunately the time for compline signaled the end of the festivities, though many came back later for more talk. Great Silence? What Great Silence? They would all be back and more on Saturday day for the liturgy and reception.

On Sunday morning after mass all but three abbots and one sister left. It was Sunday and everyone could get home for the new week. Mark's family flew away and the abbey seemed remarkably empty and quiet. Monday morning after mass two more abbots left and the last went looking for manual labor "before I go crazy." As the preacher said that morning, we were back to ordinary life after the great celebration.

This experience was framed for me by God in a most remarkable way. At the end of Vespers that Friday evening, the sacrament had been displayed in a veiled ciborium between two candles. To the left was the icon of the Madonna. Feeling overwhelmed by the stature of all those guests I said, "I am so glad you two are also here as guests at this party." I thought of the wedding at Cana where he had simply been among the guests, along with his mother and disciples. This really was very much like Mark's wedding. The relatives and friends, the gifts, the liturgy, the special clothes, the celebrations over food. Friday evening was almost like the rehearsal dinner. Mark had committed himself to Christ and religious life and the community at Vina and the order many years before. But this was a new level of commitment and with a new community. Perhaps not a second marriage but a deeper expression of the first one. And the great but unobtrusive guest was Jesus Christ. Saturday evening after Vespers he was there again to be adored. Some party, eh Lord?