Living with the Psalms - Part 2

As part of the sabbatical, I plan to visit a community that lives by the psalms. The best bet is probably a Benedictine monastery.

Since the sixth century, the followers of St. Benedict have prayed the psalms seven times a day. This is the heart of their prayer life, and the primary content of their communication with God.

One such Benedictine community is at the end of this rutted, dusty road in New Mexico. It's called the Monastery of Christ in the Desert. I learned about it some years ago in a book called Sanctuaries. Friends have taken lengthy sojourns there, and returned with stories of God's presence in a most austere landscape.

I find myself tugged toward this place -- and can't quite explain why. Perhaps it's the promise of quiet; the monks and their guests maintain a vow of silence for most of the week. Or perhaps the rhythm of prayer and labor appeal to me; by and large, the day is structured by the scheduled prayer times, as opposed to the constant demands and interruptions of the pastoral life.

Actually it's intriguing to consider spending time in a place where cell phones can't get a signal, where e-mail will go unread, where my wristwatch is not needed, and where the inch-thin distractions of modern life lose their power.

The rutted road to Christ in the Desert is about fifteen miles long; on a good day, says the literature, it takes about an hour to travel down it. Since I'll be heading there in mid-July, it's possible to encounter a flash flood in the high desert. It could take longer to arrive -- or once there, longer to return to the fast-paced life that I've been leading.

As I've mentioned the idea of visiting this place for a couple of weeks, most of my Protestant friends ask, "What do you do in a monastery?" Well, you do a lot of things: pray, eat, study, work, sleep. All the while, the psalms re-script your life, as the community prays them. Over time, the psalms carve a groove in your soul -- just like the ruts in the road to the monastery.