Of Gods and Men

Here is a link to a review of the movie Of Gods and Men. The reviewer is a friend of this monastery; in fact, he is in charge of ordering books for our Abbey Store. The movie is showing in more theaters; it will be worth seeing, if it comes near you.

New Windows

Two stained glass windows have been installed in the historic barn, where our founders first lived when they arrived in 1944.

This is a poster that Mario has made of the images. On the left is an image of Our Lady holding a cruciform Christ child against a traditional Cistercian pattern. The other window is made from faceted glass, thick chunks of glass that are cut or fractured to offer rough surfaces to the light.

Spring cleaning

The Japanese magnolia in the southwest corner of our cloister garden has pink buds that are ready to burst. The Japanese magnolia in the southwest corner formed by two wings of the monastery is, as usual, well behind the other -- its buds are tightly closed.

I have packed four boxes full of books and figures. I have decided it is time to send copies of Pinocchio, along with my collection of Pinocchio figures to four needy families, one in Tennessee, two in Indiana, and one in Michigan. Each box will also include a copy of a recently published edition with lovely pictures by the Bulgarian artist Iassen Ghiuselev. They will be mailed once Amazon completes sending me the four copies the newer book.

My first copy of Pinocchio was bought at L.S.Ayres in downtown Indianapolis. It was a hardback copy reduced from &1.25 to 98 cents. I remember trying to read it by the streetlights as we headed north toward home. I loved it from the first words. "'Once upon a time, there was . . . 'A king,' my little readers will shout at once. No, once upon a time there was a piece of wood, an ordinary piece of wood that you would throw on the fire."

My fascination with puppets is rooted in my love of Leslie Caron, who had made several movies that I saw as a kid, including "The Glass Slipper" and "Lili" (which is the one with the puppets). When I watched "Lili" as an adult I saw how really cheesy it is -- but, for a kid, it was pretty wonderful. Of course, I claim that my love for French literature, especially from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, is rooted in "Gigi" -- another of her movies. Be careful of what you let your kids watch.

I will keep a couple of editions of Pinocchio (although the first one is packed in one of the boxes) and some figures for the four families to gather at a later date -- when they can also pick up my Teddy bear.

Of Gods and Men

On my former blog, I wrote about our Cistercian martyrs of Tibhirine, Algeria, seven monks who were kidnapped from their monastery and killed in May, 1996. A film of those events won the Grand Prix at Cannes this past year. It is now playing in the US.

You can watch the trailer on You Tube; you can watch the trailer at Sony; you can read the Sony presskit.

Next time you come for a visit, you can stand in our cloister garden near our memorial for the seven men: Bruno, Célestin, Christian, Christophe, Luc, Michel, Paul.

Two minutes

Here is a site I was sent the other day. It is a nice one to have bookmarked -- and to do what it invites.

Dusting and Scholastica

Walking through the cloister garden this morning, I realized the grass was covered with snow. The pavement was all shining wet, with no snow sticking.

Today we remember Benedict's sister Scholastica with this bit from Gregory the Great's account of Benedict's life:

Scholastica, the sister of Saint Benedict, had been consecrated to God from her earliest years. She was accustomed to visiting her brother once a year. He would come down to meet her at a place on the monastery property, not far outside the gate.
One day she came as usual and her saintly brother went with some of his disciples; they spent the whole day praising God and talking of sacred things. As night fell they had supper together.
Their spiritual conversation went on and the hour grew late. The holy nun said to her brother: "Please do not leave me tonight; let us go on until morning talking about the delights of the spiritual life." "Sister," he replied, "what are you saying? I simply cannot stay outside my cell."
When she heard her brother refuse her request, the holy woman joined her hands on the table, laid her head on them and began to pray. As she raised her head from the table, there were such brilliant flashes of lightning, such great peals of thunder and such a heavy downpour of rain that neither Benedict nor his brethren could stir across the threshold of the place where they had been seated. Sadly he began to complain: "May God forgive you, sister. What have you done?" "Well," she answered, "I asked you and you would not listen; so I asked my God and he did listen. So now go off, if you can, leave me and return to your monastery."
Reluctant as he was to stay of his own will, he remained against his will. So it came about that they stayed awake the whole night, engrossed in their conversation about the spiritual life.
It is not surprising that she was more effective than he; since, as John says, God is love, it was absolutely right that she could do more, as she loved more.
Three days later, Benedict was in his cell. Looking up to the sky, he saw his sister's soul leave her body in the form of a dove, and fly up to the secret places of heaven. Rejoicing in her great glory, he thanked almighty God with hymns and words of praise. He then sent his brethren to bring her body to the monastery and lay it in the tomb he had prepared for himself.
Their minds had always been united in God; their bodies were to share a common grave.

Raintree County again

I mentioned that I was reading Raintree County. I have been thinking about writing about it here and have not summoned the courage. A friend just asked me whether I was finished with it yet and whether I thought she would like it. Here is how I responded:

I have not yet finished it. I am not sure that I am enjoying it all that much.

It is over-written, over-organized, over-constructed, just over done.

He plays with time. It is a day in the life of one man (July 4, 1892) interrupted with flashbacks of his past. The flashbacks are the real story, but they are told out of order -- so he creates suspense by telling most of the events in a space of pages, but leaves the climactic event until near the end of the book. (Thus, in 1863, Susanna leaves home with their 2-year-old son and he tracks them to Indianapolis. Then he follows them back to Freehaven. We skip a week and he is off to war, Susanna having left to return to New Orleans. Not until many many many pages later -- I skipped ahead to look -- are we told that Susanna set fire to their house; the boy was killed. And in another section we learn of Susanna's later suicide.) He has an elaborate system of symbols about earth and water and swamp and river; he overlays all kinds of mythic elements.

The movie tried to tell the central story, but botched it badly in order to make a happy ending.