Pilgrim’s Progress: St. Benedict Abbey

Silence has animated the Christian community from its genesis. It is only within the interior quiet of the soul that God can be heard with clarity, that the hustle and bustle of daily life can be put in proper perspective, and that Charity can take root in the spirit’s soil.

For centuries, that nurturing peace has been lovingly preserved in monastic communities. Professed religious have kept alive the warm and attentive silence which eagerly listens for the gentle whisper of the Holy Spirit. 

In an era of tumult and noise, when it can be a miracle just to hear oneself think, monasteries and convents offer to the pilgrim Catholic a sublime glimpse into the true and living heart of the faith. Within the hushed walls of the monastery lives the magnificent and eloquent quiet of the Church, ever ancient and ever new.

Yet these wondrous communities are not found only in remote mountains, nestled far from the world which would drown out its musical muteness, but any student of Boston College can find the unparalleled beauty of a monastery only a modest trip away from their dorm room.

I set out to test that claim over Fall Break. In the silent dark before dawn I arose and joined fellow Torch staff Jacob Self for a proper pilgrimage. Together, we set off for the unheard-of town of Still River, MA. No cars were needed, only a train ticket and our feet. Using naught but those for a pleasant ride and hike, we arrived at St. Benedict Abbey, the home of a community of Benedictine monks.

Upon arriving at the modest group of houses and extensions which the Benedictines call home, we hesitated to ask for directions lest we disturb the quiet air enveloping the whole surrounding area. The transition from noisy Boston to Still River was perplexing.

When we met and spoke with the guest master, the atmosphere of silence ceased to intimidate. We saw that it was not the quiet of anger or bitterness. There was a warm hospitality in the stillness, and in those monks who carried it, that cried out a speechless welcome to the pilgrim. It was not alien. We were home.

The guest master quietly and courteously presented us with our well-kept rooms, and informed us of the monks’ prayer schedule. No activities were forced upon us, but the invitation to the daily life of the monastery was given, and we accepted gladly.

The prayer of the community was the most powerful experience. In this worn, small Massachusetts town, the ancient Latin chant endured in its weathered but undiminished glory. Following Compline, long after sundown, the monks gathered in darkness before the solitary light above the statue of Mary and sang the Salve. In the light’s deep contrast, one could only see the outline of the monks’ habits.

Beyond the five Hours of the Divine Office each day and the Latin Mass, we rested or worked as we pleased. A neighboring religious community running a school was holding an autumn carnival. Going between the childlike and cheery excitement of a fair, where not a phone was visible in the crowd, and the adoring silence of the monastery, we caught a glimpse of the memory of the Medieval Church in merry splendor.

We also had the chance to speak with the monks and fellow guests regularly at meals and events. They were fascinating people, human beings full of wit, wisdom, and personality. At some times, jokes and anecdotes were traded, and at other times, there were profound discussions about such things as the proper aesthetics in sacred liturgy.

At last, after a wonderful weekend, we departed homeward feeling at peace interiorly and rested. We were ready to once more endure the noise of secular life, even if reluctantly. Yet there was also a profound change within us. Those friends who left were not quite identical to those who returned.

The grace of God which rested upon our heads as we stayed at that monastery is incommunicable. The sublimity of Christian silence, of the wonders of the indwelling of God in the soul, cannot be satisfactorily expressed, but only hinted at, praised, and cherished.

All Christians are pilgrims in this world, and the goal of their pilgrimage lies in the divine peace of God. However, Providence has ordained places of rest along the journey. St. Benedict Abbey is one of the many depositories of that timeless silence, and it is accessible and welcoming to a BC student.