Musings on a Monastery

The latter part of last week was spent at Mount Carmel Spiritual Centre. This remarkable Carmelite Monastery was built in 1894 and sits near Niagara Falls. I was there for a meeting of the Joint Anglican Lutheran Commission (JALC), a group of people tasked with monitoring the full communion partnership of the Anglican Church of Canada of Canada and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada.

I have been a part of this commission for some 12 years, and for many of these years our biannual meetings have taken place Mount Carmel. I have also been at this locale for other retreats. It has a bit of a feeling of a spiritual home for me. The staff here are always warm and welcoming, the food is excellent, and I generally manage a number of trips to the waterfall with each stay. Many people complain about the commercialisation of Niagara Falls, but there is something about the power of the water here that allows me to rise above the kitsch of the streets, and to be drawn into the drama of millions of litres of water racing toward the ocean, like a bird after its prey.

The group that gathers constantly changes, like the waterfall itself, I suppose. Of the 12 people in the current iteration of JALC, only 3 of them journeyed with me to this point from my beginning. I come now to the end of my time, as do many. The commission has three-year mandates, and so it will be reconstituted next fall. Some people will return. Many will not, I think. There were tears in the good-byes, and that says something about the gift it has been to be a part of this JALC.

This goodbye was a bit odd in a way, for me. I opted to stay at the Monastery another night, since I was to lead a workshop in the area the next day, and a trip back home Friday night, only to return Saturday morning seemed a waste of time and a needless emission of carbon. But as the crew left, I felt a kind of homesickness, in reverse perhaps. Sick-at-homeness, might better name it. I mentioned in my goodbye that those who have sojourned with me for these years will “haunt” the halls at Mount Carmel upon my return to this place. Indeed, even as they left, memories from this most recent meeting arrived as precisely that: memories. There is something particularly poignant about recent recollections; their sharpness is a reminder that they will fade; their proximity comes with the realization that these days have left and will not return.

Of course, JALC will return to Mount Carmel, as will I, but we will not meet together. This is the way of the world and the church, and it is the way it should be. A healthy committee needs to be renewed, and committee members need to move on to something new. I have enjoyed my time with JALC, and have been formed in important ways by my fellow commissioners, these dear friends, brothers and sisters all.

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4 thoughts on “Musings on a Monastery

  1. shoreacres says:

    What you say about the dissolution and re-formation of your groups reminds me of blogging. Over the decade or so that I’ve maintained a blog, it’s been fascinating to watch changes in my readership. Some have been with me from the very beginning; others are quite new. A few readers have died; some simply have disappeared. It’s fascinating to go back to the first two or three years of the blog and read the comments, often from people I no longer think of. Still, seeing their names, everything about our relationship comes back to mind. It’s a pleasing experience, even with so many questions about where some have gone.

    • agjorgenson says:

      Nicely said! Yes, the followers have changed so much. Earlier, I seemed to have had more time, or made more time, to visit sites and comment, all conditions for building readership. But things have changed. Also, so many of the people who used to read and comment regularly no longer post, and seem to have fallen off the radar altogether. But still I write, and will for some time, I think. I was saying to a colleague the other day, that I write for me. If some others enjoy my musing, great. But in many ways, this is mostly soul care.

  2. “their sharpness is a reminder that they will fade.” Such a terribly beautiful and sad and hopeful reminder of the sweet briefness of our memories and lives. Thank you.

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