A Monk's Diary Archive

"His name is poured out." These were the words accompanying me on my walk under the trees behind Brother Placid's garden this evening. We have enjoyed an unusual span of sunny weather all week long, the air sweet with things growing, alive with birds darting under the sun's admiring gaze. I walk under the trees with St. Bernard's voice resonating in my heart as he ruminates on one of his favorite lines from scripture: "His name is poured out", a poetic image of what cannot be imaged: the superabundance of love God unleashed on the world in the person of Jesus his Son.

Yesterday, we celebrated the mystery of the Assumption of Mary's body into heaven after she died. At Vigils, as all the monks sat in the semi-darkness, Father Jonah read to us how it was generally known among the early Christians that something very mysterious happened to Mary's body after she died. One account says that, certain disciples of Jesus, inquiring about where she was buried, went to the tomb and found it empty. It's an enchanting story. What is the "assumption of Mary"? What exactly did God do? What happened to Mary after she died?

After Compline, on the way to my cell, I pass Anselm and Giles together in the infirmary and, without being noticed, pause a moment to take in the scene: Anselm is seated, by a window framing a view that looks like a painting. Beyond is the neatly trimmed yard behind the cloister where swallowtails are wheeling and basking in the light of the setting sun. Extending into the distance is the long rosary walk shaded by the branches of tall trees that bow over a monk strolling past the bell tower.