Previous Blog Posts
May 2023
We receive many blessings throughout our lives. Oftentimes they come as surprises, and sometimes they aren’t quite realized until we have lived with them for awhile. The opportunity to practice stability, as strange as it may seem, is one of the more cherished gifts that I have received while being a part of the St. Brigid’s community. I will admit, that might seem like an odd thing to someone who isn’t being formed within the Benedictine tradition; after all, our society is a mobile one. Whether we recognize or acknowledge our patterns of movement, most of us from an early age are taught that being migratory is what is necessary as we search for a place to provide for our loved ones. Growing up I can remember my dad saying, “you go where the work is,” as it seemed like every five years we were packing up and moving again.
Nevertheless, it’s the practice of stability that I’ve come to appreciate the most about this community, as well as the ways in which I’m encouraged to confront the wandering heart within my chest. For about a decade now I’ve been a pastor in the United Methodist Church. Called as an itinerant preacher, even my vocation and occupation is built upon an appointment system that moves the clergy around every few years. Over the past seven years, I’ve served four different communities, lived in six different homes, and resided in three very different parts of the state of Iowa. To some that may seem excessive, and to talk about stability seems almost absurd; and yet, through every move and transition I have still been a member of St. Brigid’s of Kildare. The communities I have been called to have been dramatically different, but it’s still this monastic one that I call home. In a strange and beautiful way, living out my Benedictine call is chiefly possible because this community is dispersed.
That reality is as comforting as it is humbling and awe-inspiring, knowing that despite where the Spirit leads me that St. Brigid’s will go with me and I will go with them. That, no matter how tough or unpredictable life becomes, I have a Benedictine community that is only an email, phone, or video call away. Of course, it also means grappling with areas of personal, spiritual growth as well. Asking for reassignment isn’t an option. There is no, “going where the work is,” because the work is here. To vow stability in a dispersed community is simultaneously accessible and difficult, simple and complex, both mystery and paradox worthy of gratitude as we work out what it means to be connected despite the distance between us. For me, for now, living this Benedictine way of life is learning how to engage and reconnect with the community more and more every day. This is but one way that I am sure of, a path that will continue to help me grow into the likeness of Christ and hone the tools that God has blessed us with through St. Benedict. The practice of connectedness continues to form me, and for that opportunity of stability in a chaotic world, I am eternally grateful.
About the Author:
Luke Fillmore is an oblate of St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery and an ordained elder in the United Methodist Church. With an undergrad in linguistics and an M.Div. from Iliff School of Theology, Luke has been serving as a pastor to churches in the Iowa Annual Conference since 2015 and a part of St. Brigid’s community since 2019. Husband to a wonderful wife and father to three beautiful children, Luke spends his free time playing the bagpipes, making soup, and cycling on old highways.
We receive many blessings throughout our lives. Oftentimes they come as surprises, and sometimes they aren’t quite realized until we have lived with them for awhile. The opportunity to practice stability, as strange as it may seem, is one of the more cherished gifts that I have received while being a part of the St. Brigid’s community. I will admit, that might seem like an odd thing to someone who isn’t being formed within the Benedictine tradition; after all, our society is a mobile one. Whether we recognize or acknowledge our patterns of movement, most of us from an early age are taught that being migratory is what is necessary as we search for a place to provide for our loved ones. Growing up I can remember my dad saying, “you go where the work is,” as it seemed like every five years we were packing up and moving again.
Nevertheless, it’s the practice of stability that I’ve come to appreciate the most about this community, as well as the ways in which I’m encouraged to confront the wandering heart within my chest. For about a decade now I’ve been a pastor in the United Methodist Church. Called as an itinerant preacher, even my vocation and occupation is built upon an appointment system that moves the clergy around every few years. Over the past seven years, I’ve served four different communities, lived in six different homes, and resided in three very different parts of the state of Iowa. To some that may seem excessive, and to talk about stability seems almost absurd; and yet, through every move and transition I have still been a member of St. Brigid’s of Kildare. The communities I have been called to have been dramatically different, but it’s still this monastic one that I call home. In a strange and beautiful way, living out my Benedictine call is chiefly possible because this community is dispersed.
That reality is as comforting as it is humbling and awe-inspiring, knowing that despite where the Spirit leads me that St. Brigid’s will go with me and I will go with them. That, no matter how tough or unpredictable life becomes, I have a Benedictine community that is only an email, phone, or video call away. Of course, it also means grappling with areas of personal, spiritual growth as well. Asking for reassignment isn’t an option. There is no, “going where the work is,” because the work is here. To vow stability in a dispersed community is simultaneously accessible and difficult, simple and complex, both mystery and paradox worthy of gratitude as we work out what it means to be connected despite the distance between us. For me, for now, living this Benedictine way of life is learning how to engage and reconnect with the community more and more every day. This is but one way that I am sure of, a path that will continue to help me grow into the likeness of Christ and hone the tools that God has blessed us with through St. Benedict. The practice of connectedness continues to form me, and for that opportunity of stability in a chaotic world, I am eternally grateful.
About the Author:
Luke Fillmore is an oblate of St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery and an ordained elder in the United Methodist Church. With an undergrad in linguistics and an M.Div. from Iliff School of Theology, Luke has been serving as a pastor to churches in the Iowa Annual Conference since 2015 and a part of St. Brigid’s community since 2019. Husband to a wonderful wife and father to three beautiful children, Luke spends his free time playing the bagpipes, making soup, and cycling on old highways.
April 2023
I joined St Brigid’s after I retired, and I have lived alone. As our Liturgy of the Hours schedule has grown from zero to 22 times a week in the last 10 years, I had an easy time fitting many prayers into my week, even when I traveled or did volunteer projects.
This past winter I have been in Montana supporting my grandson and daughter during her divorce It’s been a season of learning for me and one of my desert times. One of the biggest take-aways from my time here will be that I have come to cherish our times of community prayer in new ways. While here, I have been immersed in toddlerhood and a busy household, and I stopped coming to prayers. I almost drowned. I almost lost sight of the monk in me. I gained a brand-new appreciation for those of my brothers and sisters who live with family (especially young children) and work and somehow find time for Liturgy of the Hour and Formation.
Two of the chapters from the book that we are reading this year as a community, “The Monastic Heart” by Joan Chittister, got my attention and helped to turn me back around. One chapter was on “Cloister”; the ability to make your life private for a time in order to have a regular time to be with God and hear the Holy Spirit. The second chapter was on the “Cell”; where you go to get your spiritual work done and where you go to save yourself for the sake of others. Sister Joan Chittister’s books have always helped me to visualize my monastic life and our community life as we live together apart. Once again, her words reached out to me and brought me back to my intended path.
I began to look at my day and week. I could see pieces of time where I did have the house to myself or I could step away. I’m not great at it yet. I have not been consistent with my stepping away for time with the Holy Spirit, but I am making progress.
In the past, I had always taken my Breviary in my suitcase when I traveled. But I seldom have prayed alone with it when I miss a community prayer time. Here in Montana, I have begun to do that when I miss prayers. Even if Lauds doesn’t happen until 11am, it’s still Lauds and those Psalms still speak to me. I make a point of saying Compline just before bed if I have missed praying it with community that night. I find myself so dependent on the Liturgy of the Hours now. It’s a gift. Perhaps it had become more of a routine I simply took for granted when I lived alone. I thank God for this new experience in prayer.
Each of us in this community has to find our way into the Liturgy of the Hours and oftentimes we find ourselves having to readjust our lives to once again make time for our prayers together. It is a gift to pray as a community. It is also our charism for the world. Thanks be to God.
About the Author:
I grew up in Minnesota and have lived in many places since graduating from high school. My most recent career in the Coast Guard brought me together with many people from many backgrounds. It was a wonderful experience. I also was able to live in Alaska during most of my Coast Guard service. My daughter was born on Kodiak Island, AK and graduated from high school in Juneau, AK. Living in Alaska has shaped both of our lives.
I moved back to Minnesota after retiring and am privileged to live on a lake as the current caretaker of our family cabin. I was raised Methodist and still claim to be one. I attend a tiny Episcopal Church and enjoy their liturgy worship style. I am currently living out what it means to be in the sandwich generation with a 90-year-old mother who lives close to my home and a grandson who lives with my daughter in Missoula, MT.
I have been growing into my contemplative self for the last 25 years. I was told about St Brigid's by my spiritual director in Alaska as I was preparing to retire and move back to my home state of Minnesota in 2008. I met a handful of our St Brigid monks, and I knew I had found folks who are "like-souled". St Brigid is my home. I am so grateful to be living out my life with this community.
During the pandemic, I ceased doing a lot of things that I intend to begin again or start in a different way this coming year. One of those things is volunteer work and another is more time traveling and camping in my RV. Of course, being a grandparent will continue to shape my life.
I joined St Brigid’s after I retired, and I have lived alone. As our Liturgy of the Hours schedule has grown from zero to 22 times a week in the last 10 years, I had an easy time fitting many prayers into my week, even when I traveled or did volunteer projects.
This past winter I have been in Montana supporting my grandson and daughter during her divorce It’s been a season of learning for me and one of my desert times. One of the biggest take-aways from my time here will be that I have come to cherish our times of community prayer in new ways. While here, I have been immersed in toddlerhood and a busy household, and I stopped coming to prayers. I almost drowned. I almost lost sight of the monk in me. I gained a brand-new appreciation for those of my brothers and sisters who live with family (especially young children) and work and somehow find time for Liturgy of the Hour and Formation.
Two of the chapters from the book that we are reading this year as a community, “The Monastic Heart” by Joan Chittister, got my attention and helped to turn me back around. One chapter was on “Cloister”; the ability to make your life private for a time in order to have a regular time to be with God and hear the Holy Spirit. The second chapter was on the “Cell”; where you go to get your spiritual work done and where you go to save yourself for the sake of others. Sister Joan Chittister’s books have always helped me to visualize my monastic life and our community life as we live together apart. Once again, her words reached out to me and brought me back to my intended path.
I began to look at my day and week. I could see pieces of time where I did have the house to myself or I could step away. I’m not great at it yet. I have not been consistent with my stepping away for time with the Holy Spirit, but I am making progress.
In the past, I had always taken my Breviary in my suitcase when I traveled. But I seldom have prayed alone with it when I miss a community prayer time. Here in Montana, I have begun to do that when I miss prayers. Even if Lauds doesn’t happen until 11am, it’s still Lauds and those Psalms still speak to me. I make a point of saying Compline just before bed if I have missed praying it with community that night. I find myself so dependent on the Liturgy of the Hours now. It’s a gift. Perhaps it had become more of a routine I simply took for granted when I lived alone. I thank God for this new experience in prayer.
Each of us in this community has to find our way into the Liturgy of the Hours and oftentimes we find ourselves having to readjust our lives to once again make time for our prayers together. It is a gift to pray as a community. It is also our charism for the world. Thanks be to God.
About the Author:
I grew up in Minnesota and have lived in many places since graduating from high school. My most recent career in the Coast Guard brought me together with many people from many backgrounds. It was a wonderful experience. I also was able to live in Alaska during most of my Coast Guard service. My daughter was born on Kodiak Island, AK and graduated from high school in Juneau, AK. Living in Alaska has shaped both of our lives.
I moved back to Minnesota after retiring and am privileged to live on a lake as the current caretaker of our family cabin. I was raised Methodist and still claim to be one. I attend a tiny Episcopal Church and enjoy their liturgy worship style. I am currently living out what it means to be in the sandwich generation with a 90-year-old mother who lives close to my home and a grandson who lives with my daughter in Missoula, MT.
I have been growing into my contemplative self for the last 25 years. I was told about St Brigid's by my spiritual director in Alaska as I was preparing to retire and move back to my home state of Minnesota in 2008. I met a handful of our St Brigid monks, and I knew I had found folks who are "like-souled". St Brigid is my home. I am so grateful to be living out my life with this community.
During the pandemic, I ceased doing a lot of things that I intend to begin again or start in a different way this coming year. One of those things is volunteer work and another is more time traveling and camping in my RV. Of course, being a grandparent will continue to shape my life.
March 2023
Hmmm, what is this Saint Brigid of Kildare Monastery? The monastery had been mentioned in a book I was reading during the pandemic, and so I looked for the website. Yes, there it was, with all the information about the monastery and next steps to take if you were interested. I was fascinated, but not really sure why my attention was so focused on this monastery. What does a Methodist do in or with a monastery? Isn’t a monastery for unmarried men or women of the Catholic faith? I closed the site and moved on, yet I found myself returning to the monastery’s website on multiple occasions. Oh, why not? Why not just reach out and see what this monastery was all about? There seemed to be something different about this group, and I was curious. And I also knew from past experiences that God often had to whisper to me multiple times to get me attention. Could this be the community I was searching for?
To back up a bit, I grew up in the mountains of North Carolina on a small beef cattle farm. My family raised Black Angus beef cattle and we grew all the vegetables we ate. Most Sundays, we attended our small Methodist church, painted white just like you see on holiday cards. On a good Sunday, there may have been 20 people in attendance. My mom taught our Sunday Schools class of 3 children, using the church-provided lesson. Our strengths as a church were our people and food, and many meals were shared together, prepared by some really good cooks. This was my first small but strong church community.
I continued to gravitate to community, yet I have found it difficult to maintain one solid community to grow and mature in as life led me to many places. I searched for a community in churches large and small that would feed me both physically and spiritually, and that I could be a contributing member. I moved around the country for my training and career as a small animal veterinary internist. Sunday school classes and other small groups helped fill that need for a community, but with each new move I had to search and restart the process of growing in community.
And so it was that during the pandemic, I found the monastery of St. Brigid of Kildare. Or maybe it found me. I don’t really know. I just know I felt called to reach out to this group of people, living in community in a dispersed fashion. This community prayed together at least twice a day even though they were spread out across the United States. As the door opened and I entered, I found love and connection with brothers and sisters from various backgrounds, all walking together with their hearts focused on God. I wanted that and needed that, feeling the call to walk along the path of life with these fellow Christians.
And this is where I am now, enveloped in the monastery. I have a lot to learn and I hope to give a lot to this community. This is family and a group that is with me wherever I am in the world. The call to prayer brings me together with these brothers and sisters regularly. I share life in all its beauty and ugliness. I share love and extend that love to others. I do God’s work. I listen (and I continue to learn to listen better). I thank God for this monastic community.
About the Author:
Cindy is a small animal veterinary internist and farmer, who met her husband, Paul, in veterinary school. They live on a 26-acre farm in Hillsborough, North Carolina, with their 2 children, Jack and Lily. Their family also includes 4 cats, 2 dogs, 2 horses, 3 donkeys, 2 goats, many chickens and 1 white dove. Cindy loves reading, digging in the dirt, and photography. And she loves all things Halloween, as she dresses up as Witch Hazel every October to read to children and to haunt her barn. She has retired from veterinary medicine to run Firefly Farm as a business, growing flowers and vegetable, raising animals and inviting people to experience the farm. She hopes that she is finished with moving, but who really knows. She does know that the community of St. Brigid of Kildare will be with her always. You can follow her activity on Firefly Farm by visiting her website www.fireflyfarm.com and signing up for the farm newsletter. You may also follow her on social media @farmfirefly.
Hmmm, what is this Saint Brigid of Kildare Monastery? The monastery had been mentioned in a book I was reading during the pandemic, and so I looked for the website. Yes, there it was, with all the information about the monastery and next steps to take if you were interested. I was fascinated, but not really sure why my attention was so focused on this monastery. What does a Methodist do in or with a monastery? Isn’t a monastery for unmarried men or women of the Catholic faith? I closed the site and moved on, yet I found myself returning to the monastery’s website on multiple occasions. Oh, why not? Why not just reach out and see what this monastery was all about? There seemed to be something different about this group, and I was curious. And I also knew from past experiences that God often had to whisper to me multiple times to get me attention. Could this be the community I was searching for?
To back up a bit, I grew up in the mountains of North Carolina on a small beef cattle farm. My family raised Black Angus beef cattle and we grew all the vegetables we ate. Most Sundays, we attended our small Methodist church, painted white just like you see on holiday cards. On a good Sunday, there may have been 20 people in attendance. My mom taught our Sunday Schools class of 3 children, using the church-provided lesson. Our strengths as a church were our people and food, and many meals were shared together, prepared by some really good cooks. This was my first small but strong church community.
I continued to gravitate to community, yet I have found it difficult to maintain one solid community to grow and mature in as life led me to many places. I searched for a community in churches large and small that would feed me both physically and spiritually, and that I could be a contributing member. I moved around the country for my training and career as a small animal veterinary internist. Sunday school classes and other small groups helped fill that need for a community, but with each new move I had to search and restart the process of growing in community.
And so it was that during the pandemic, I found the monastery of St. Brigid of Kildare. Or maybe it found me. I don’t really know. I just know I felt called to reach out to this group of people, living in community in a dispersed fashion. This community prayed together at least twice a day even though they were spread out across the United States. As the door opened and I entered, I found love and connection with brothers and sisters from various backgrounds, all walking together with their hearts focused on God. I wanted that and needed that, feeling the call to walk along the path of life with these fellow Christians.
And this is where I am now, enveloped in the monastery. I have a lot to learn and I hope to give a lot to this community. This is family and a group that is with me wherever I am in the world. The call to prayer brings me together with these brothers and sisters regularly. I share life in all its beauty and ugliness. I share love and extend that love to others. I do God’s work. I listen (and I continue to learn to listen better). I thank God for this monastic community.
About the Author:
Cindy is a small animal veterinary internist and farmer, who met her husband, Paul, in veterinary school. They live on a 26-acre farm in Hillsborough, North Carolina, with their 2 children, Jack and Lily. Their family also includes 4 cats, 2 dogs, 2 horses, 3 donkeys, 2 goats, many chickens and 1 white dove. Cindy loves reading, digging in the dirt, and photography. And she loves all things Halloween, as she dresses up as Witch Hazel every October to read to children and to haunt her barn. She has retired from veterinary medicine to run Firefly Farm as a business, growing flowers and vegetable, raising animals and inviting people to experience the farm. She hopes that she is finished with moving, but who really knows. She does know that the community of St. Brigid of Kildare will be with her always. You can follow her activity on Firefly Farm by visiting her website www.fireflyfarm.com and signing up for the farm newsletter. You may also follow her on social media @farmfirefly.
February 2023
When I was first introduced to the Breviary during the years of the pandemic, I felt like I had words for all of the things I was struggling to pray. I gathered with a small group from across the country to pray lauds once a week, which was life-giving. But it also left me craving more. More time in prayer. More of the prayers printed in the Breviary. More of the community steeped in the life exposed in the Rule of Benedict. Through Google and a series of events the Holy Spirit wove together, I ended up at Saint Brigid’s - which ended up being everything I was searching for and more.
By vocation, I am a United Methodist Pastor and spiritual director. Part of the covenant that I adhere to is to be in a community with others who share this holy calling in my geographic area (which we call a conference). The problem is that it can be difficult to fulfill that covenant authentically where you are deeply known when you move around, as Methodists often do. When I found Saint Brigid’s, I felt like through my covenant taken at oblation, I honestly could fulfill this vow because here we are called to stability. To accountability. And to grace abundant.
My vocation as a monastic is central to my calling as a pastor and a spiritual director. It feeds my soul in a way that invites me to be more intentional about considering time and being in prayer. But it also creates a space within me to be reflective - and to come to peace beyond what I can achieve or offer of my own accord. This is not just a community of prayer but a community of life together and life abundant.
About the author
Michelle Bodle is an ordained elder in the United Methodist Church, a spiritual director, and someone who deeply believes that the spiritual journey is not one to be taken alone. She is the founder of Abide in the Spirit which strives to create sacred space for holy listening. She resides in central Pennsylvania with her chinchilla, Wesley and her tortoise, Angelo.
When I was first introduced to the Breviary during the years of the pandemic, I felt like I had words for all of the things I was struggling to pray. I gathered with a small group from across the country to pray lauds once a week, which was life-giving. But it also left me craving more. More time in prayer. More of the prayers printed in the Breviary. More of the community steeped in the life exposed in the Rule of Benedict. Through Google and a series of events the Holy Spirit wove together, I ended up at Saint Brigid’s - which ended up being everything I was searching for and more.
By vocation, I am a United Methodist Pastor and spiritual director. Part of the covenant that I adhere to is to be in a community with others who share this holy calling in my geographic area (which we call a conference). The problem is that it can be difficult to fulfill that covenant authentically where you are deeply known when you move around, as Methodists often do. When I found Saint Brigid’s, I felt like through my covenant taken at oblation, I honestly could fulfill this vow because here we are called to stability. To accountability. And to grace abundant.
My vocation as a monastic is central to my calling as a pastor and a spiritual director. It feeds my soul in a way that invites me to be more intentional about considering time and being in prayer. But it also creates a space within me to be reflective - and to come to peace beyond what I can achieve or offer of my own accord. This is not just a community of prayer but a community of life together and life abundant.
About the author
Michelle Bodle is an ordained elder in the United Methodist Church, a spiritual director, and someone who deeply believes that the spiritual journey is not one to be taken alone. She is the founder of Abide in the Spirit which strives to create sacred space for holy listening. She resides in central Pennsylvania with her chinchilla, Wesley and her tortoise, Angelo.
January 2023
I was born and raised in Martins Ferry, Ohio, a small steel-mill and coal-mining town on the Ohio River across from Wheeling, West Virginia. I met my wife Kathy in Music History class at Ashland College (it’s now a university) in Ashland, Ohio. We were married on August 14, 1970, the summer before our senior year. After graduation in 1971 we moved to Mesa, Arizona, where Kathy taught music in the Mesa Public Schools, and I completed my Masters Degree in Music Theory. Our son, Nathan, was born in Arizona.
After serving for two years as a lay person at a church in Phoenix, I enrolled in Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, California, where I completed my Masters of Divinity degree in 1980. My daughter, Amy, was born in California.
After seminary our family of four moved to Elkhart, Indiana, where I served as an Associate Pastor at Winding Waters Brethren Church and was ordained on August 2, 1981. We returned to Arizona in 1983 and never looked back. I began serving as a pastor in The United Methodist Church in 1988 and served four different churches before retiring in 2010. After my retirement I served as a half-time Associate Pastor
for an additional ten years. I fully and finally retired as of July 1, 2021.
Retirement has been an initiation into a new age/stage of my spiritual journey. I discerned that I was yearning for an experience of more intentional, disciplined, and reflective community life. In my searching I became aware of St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery through a colleague who was working at The Upper Room in Nashville. After some online research and prayerful consideration I contacted the founder of St. Brigid's, Mary Stamps. Everything we discussed resonated with my emerging yearnings. I made my Initial Oblation on September 3, 2011, the Feast of St. Gregory, and my Final Oblation on July 11, 2013, the Feast of St. Benedict.
My experience at St. Brigid’s has been, at various times, a refining fire, a petri dish, a greenhouse, and a cozy blanket. With each passing year my appreciation for all things Benedictine and my desire “to prefer nothing whatever to Christ” (RB 72.11) has increased.
Thank you to our Author
Bob Mitchell
I was born and raised in Martins Ferry, Ohio, a small steel-mill and coal-mining town on the Ohio River across from Wheeling, West Virginia. I met my wife Kathy in Music History class at Ashland College (it’s now a university) in Ashland, Ohio. We were married on August 14, 1970, the summer before our senior year. After graduation in 1971 we moved to Mesa, Arizona, where Kathy taught music in the Mesa Public Schools, and I completed my Masters Degree in Music Theory. Our son, Nathan, was born in Arizona.
After serving for two years as a lay person at a church in Phoenix, I enrolled in Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, California, where I completed my Masters of Divinity degree in 1980. My daughter, Amy, was born in California.
After seminary our family of four moved to Elkhart, Indiana, where I served as an Associate Pastor at Winding Waters Brethren Church and was ordained on August 2, 1981. We returned to Arizona in 1983 and never looked back. I began serving as a pastor in The United Methodist Church in 1988 and served four different churches before retiring in 2010. After my retirement I served as a half-time Associate Pastor
for an additional ten years. I fully and finally retired as of July 1, 2021.
Retirement has been an initiation into a new age/stage of my spiritual journey. I discerned that I was yearning for an experience of more intentional, disciplined, and reflective community life. In my searching I became aware of St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery through a colleague who was working at The Upper Room in Nashville. After some online research and prayerful consideration I contacted the founder of St. Brigid's, Mary Stamps. Everything we discussed resonated with my emerging yearnings. I made my Initial Oblation on September 3, 2011, the Feast of St. Gregory, and my Final Oblation on July 11, 2013, the Feast of St. Benedict.
My experience at St. Brigid’s has been, at various times, a refining fire, a petri dish, a greenhouse, and a cozy blanket. With each passing year my appreciation for all things Benedictine and my desire “to prefer nothing whatever to Christ” (RB 72.11) has increased.
Thank you to our Author
Bob Mitchell
December 2022
Dear Reader,
Thank you for inviting me to have this opportunity to share what it means for me to live my Benedictine call in the world. As an oblate in this great monastic tradition, I live my call knowing my life is not my own, and that I’m here to share gifts given by God by being who and Whose I am - light to others that we’re ALL meant to be. It’s not been nor was it ever meant to be a call to being “set apart”, in cloistered ease and piety as I often thought it should be, and sometimes wished it was! And so I share the charisms of healing and teaching as a spiritual director, clinical theologian and counselor in private practice; and some as an ordained minister in congregational care.
And I pray. My life has always been anchored and framed in prayer since before I can remember. However it wasn’t until I made my way to St. Brigid’s of Kildare Monastery that I could embrace and deeply live into this part of who I am. I find St. Benedict’s Rule and our prayer together in the steadying and tried-and-true depth and breadth of Benedictine spirituality to be - well, holy and transformative in ways I never imagined.
A native Nebraskan, I grew up in Ralston, a small community near Omaha. Middle American traditions, and pioneering settlers fostered an abiding sense of place, ritual, and a sojourning spirit, that continue to inform and shape my life and my work. I was always an “outlier” in the culture and the church of my childhood, and so like the meandering Platte River I grew-up near, I am also a meandering Ecumenist. The Episcopal Church is my ark “river boat” and its diocesan mission church here in Chapel Hill, The Church of the Advocate, is my ecclesial home where I serve as well.
And so in closing, I thank you once again for this opportunity to share what it means for me to live my Benedictine call in the world.
I am yours, with every blessing ~
Victoria
About the author
Victoria lives in Chapel Hill, NC. She enjoys playing the hammered dulcimer, kayaking, and community gardening. She also greatly enjoys her family in Germany - a son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter with another grandchild on the way. Semi retired, her background includes extensive experience in spiritual formation, interfaith pastoral counseling, and licensed clinical addictions counseling. Before seminary, she taught secondary math and science. Victoria holds a Master’s Degree in Divinity from Duke University, and a Master’s Degree in Education from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for inviting me to have this opportunity to share what it means for me to live my Benedictine call in the world. As an oblate in this great monastic tradition, I live my call knowing my life is not my own, and that I’m here to share gifts given by God by being who and Whose I am - light to others that we’re ALL meant to be. It’s not been nor was it ever meant to be a call to being “set apart”, in cloistered ease and piety as I often thought it should be, and sometimes wished it was! And so I share the charisms of healing and teaching as a spiritual director, clinical theologian and counselor in private practice; and some as an ordained minister in congregational care.
And I pray. My life has always been anchored and framed in prayer since before I can remember. However it wasn’t until I made my way to St. Brigid’s of Kildare Monastery that I could embrace and deeply live into this part of who I am. I find St. Benedict’s Rule and our prayer together in the steadying and tried-and-true depth and breadth of Benedictine spirituality to be - well, holy and transformative in ways I never imagined.
A native Nebraskan, I grew up in Ralston, a small community near Omaha. Middle American traditions, and pioneering settlers fostered an abiding sense of place, ritual, and a sojourning spirit, that continue to inform and shape my life and my work. I was always an “outlier” in the culture and the church of my childhood, and so like the meandering Platte River I grew-up near, I am also a meandering Ecumenist. The Episcopal Church is my ark “river boat” and its diocesan mission church here in Chapel Hill, The Church of the Advocate, is my ecclesial home where I serve as well.
And so in closing, I thank you once again for this opportunity to share what it means for me to live my Benedictine call in the world.
I am yours, with every blessing ~
Victoria
About the author
Victoria lives in Chapel Hill, NC. She enjoys playing the hammered dulcimer, kayaking, and community gardening. She also greatly enjoys her family in Germany - a son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter with another grandchild on the way. Semi retired, her background includes extensive experience in spiritual formation, interfaith pastoral counseling, and licensed clinical addictions counseling. Before seminary, she taught secondary math and science. Victoria holds a Master’s Degree in Divinity from Duke University, and a Master’s Degree in Education from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
November 2022
Have you ever heard that there are two types of tired? One that requires rest; the other requires peace… I found St. Brigid's when I was tired by my normal, everyday chaos.
My path to the monastery started with a challenge in basic gratitude, though.
Thanksgiving, 2013.
While I love my family - all three blended households of them - holidays were not the joyful get-togethers that I see in movies. My childhood holidays were either a one-and-a-half-hour trip (both ways) to stay with my other parent, or some level of cold war because the adults were dissatisfied with their lives. Several years ago, I realized that I was continuing that same discontent, making myself miserable right before the holidays – so the arguing continued into the next generation.
I wanted to stop the cycle.
So, on Wednesday before Thanksgiving, when I had friends and family coming in, and my house was a mess, and I felt completely overwhelmed, and I had just started the first steps of our holiday bickering… I just stopped. I remember thinking that this was supposed to be THANKSgiving, not a stage performance... It took a little time alone to get my head straight, but that holiday was my first foray into really grappling with gratitude. Not just the platitude – “Aw, thanks for coming…” – but the life changing understanding that the world we take for granted has more value than we see on the surface.
Before sitting down to that Thanksgiving dinner, we prayed grace like always, but I asked everyone to think of one thing they were grateful for. This time, I felt like I really prayed grace... The next year, I started my dedicated gratitude the week before, then the whole month. Then, I wanted to know how to make it my life.
I thought hard about what it would look like to live a life of gratitude. I sat at my computer one day and typed in a search for "Are there any Protestant Monks?" I found St. Brigid in a single link in a footnote on an unrelated page. It was an answer to a prayer I didn't realize I had been making for a long time.
St. Brigid's gave me a new language to express what had been missing in the way I lived my life and a new perspective that has helped me to change the way I face the world. Church for an hour on Sunday doesn't suit me; I need full immersion. I need to live my faith, daily, 24/7.
My path started with a challenge to be grateful instead of demanding, but over the past few years I have grown beyond that to faith and love and grace. This family has prepared me to love my biological family more, my church family with grace, and myself with mercy.
I'm very grateful to have found my way to St. Brigid's, and I look forward to where this adventure takes me in the future.
About the author
Kristin Rickard – I am rom Virginia Beach, Virginia. I currently attend Nimmo United Methodist Church, one of the oldest continuously ‘in use’ churches in the Tidewater area, established in 1791. I’m married to Kevin, with one daughter, Raechel, and an always changing number of cats, dogs, fish, and lizards. I am a Navy veteran, elder caregiver, artist, musician and jack of all trades/master of none – all of which I try to use to the glory of God.
Have you ever heard that there are two types of tired? One that requires rest; the other requires peace… I found St. Brigid's when I was tired by my normal, everyday chaos.
My path to the monastery started with a challenge in basic gratitude, though.
Thanksgiving, 2013.
While I love my family - all three blended households of them - holidays were not the joyful get-togethers that I see in movies. My childhood holidays were either a one-and-a-half-hour trip (both ways) to stay with my other parent, or some level of cold war because the adults were dissatisfied with their lives. Several years ago, I realized that I was continuing that same discontent, making myself miserable right before the holidays – so the arguing continued into the next generation.
I wanted to stop the cycle.
So, on Wednesday before Thanksgiving, when I had friends and family coming in, and my house was a mess, and I felt completely overwhelmed, and I had just started the first steps of our holiday bickering… I just stopped. I remember thinking that this was supposed to be THANKSgiving, not a stage performance... It took a little time alone to get my head straight, but that holiday was my first foray into really grappling with gratitude. Not just the platitude – “Aw, thanks for coming…” – but the life changing understanding that the world we take for granted has more value than we see on the surface.
Before sitting down to that Thanksgiving dinner, we prayed grace like always, but I asked everyone to think of one thing they were grateful for. This time, I felt like I really prayed grace... The next year, I started my dedicated gratitude the week before, then the whole month. Then, I wanted to know how to make it my life.
I thought hard about what it would look like to live a life of gratitude. I sat at my computer one day and typed in a search for "Are there any Protestant Monks?" I found St. Brigid in a single link in a footnote on an unrelated page. It was an answer to a prayer I didn't realize I had been making for a long time.
St. Brigid's gave me a new language to express what had been missing in the way I lived my life and a new perspective that has helped me to change the way I face the world. Church for an hour on Sunday doesn't suit me; I need full immersion. I need to live my faith, daily, 24/7.
My path started with a challenge to be grateful instead of demanding, but over the past few years I have grown beyond that to faith and love and grace. This family has prepared me to love my biological family more, my church family with grace, and myself with mercy.
I'm very grateful to have found my way to St. Brigid's, and I look forward to where this adventure takes me in the future.
About the author
Kristin Rickard – I am rom Virginia Beach, Virginia. I currently attend Nimmo United Methodist Church, one of the oldest continuously ‘in use’ churches in the Tidewater area, established in 1791. I’m married to Kevin, with one daughter, Raechel, and an always changing number of cats, dogs, fish, and lizards. I am a Navy veteran, elder caregiver, artist, musician and jack of all trades/master of none – all of which I try to use to the glory of God.
October 2022
The first time I stepped foot on the grounds of a Benedictine monastery I could not stop crying. And it kept happening. I would go for retreats, or visits to different communities, and then the tears would come. I didn’t understand why - but I knew there was something for me to pay attention to here.
But let’s first go back to the beginning.
Like many others, I initially learned of the Benedictines by reading Kathleen Norris’s book, “The Cloister Walk”. I was enchanted by this book. It was like someone was speaking the same language for God that had always been in my soul and I hungered to learn more. Soon after completing the book, my mother and aunt invited me to join them for a retreat at a Benedictine monastery in Fort Smith, Arkansas, led by Sister Macrina Wiederkehr. I eagerly said yes, interested to find out more about what I had been reading in the book. I arrived on a stormy Friday night, and much to my surprise, we were invited to stay in silence until Sunday morning. And I spent the majority of that silent time in tears. They just seemed to flow and flow. By the end of the retreat I knew that somehow my own spiritual journey would be linked with the Benedictines - but I didn’t know how.
Over the course of time I made many more visits to other Benedictine monasteries, eventually joining a brick-and-mortar community in Washington State as an Oblate. And the tears continued. After some time, I began to understand the tears, and why Benedictine spirituality brought them out in me.
The author Christian McEwan writes, “I had been a lively, talkative child, “a clever girl” but years before college, I’d realized, inside I am slow.”. When I stumbled on these words, I felt a deep sense of kinship. They went straight to my heart – because I too am slow inside. And I crave the quiet that is not always present in my busy life.
Eventually, after moving away from Washington State I found a home in St. Brigid’s Monastery. It has been a few years since I came knocking at the door to this monastery, but it has been in this place, where we live our Benedictine values in a dispersed community, that I have finally learned how to balance the busy and noisy part of life with my need for interior quiet.
The regular practice of daily prayer, lectio Divinia, and contemplative silence has taught me how to hold these parts of my life together. I am able to greet the chaos of life more fully now, knowing that soon I will have times of pausing and rest to return to. It is the Benedictine way - and I am grateful for the way my tears lead me to this life of rhythm and prayer.
About the author
Noelle Rollins is primarily a poet but also a writer, a traveler, a lover of labyrinths, and a passionate faith explorer. She worked for a number of years in ministry and higher education but now focuses full time on her writing. Arriving at the doorstop of Saint Brigid's Monastery in 2018, she found a true home for her Benedictine soul. Noelle currently lives full time on the road - with her husband and their 150lb Newfoundland, Brigid where she posts regularly on her travel blog, “The Wandering Hermit”. You can read Noelle's poetry, and her blog, at www.noellerollins.com.
Noelle Rollins is primarily a poet but also a writer, a traveler, a lover of labyrinths, and a passionate faith explorer. She worked for a number of years in ministry and higher education but now focuses full time on her writing. Arriving at the doorstop of Saint Brigid's Monastery in 2018, she found a true home for her Benedictine soul. Noelle currently lives full time on the road - with her husband and their 150lb Newfoundland, Brigid where she posts regularly on her travel blog, “The Wandering Hermit”. You can read Noelle's poetry, and her blog, at www.noellerollins.com.
September 2022
"But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love." - Rule of St. Benedict, prologue 49
I first heard about St. Brigid at just the right time. I had just graduated from seminary and was leaving the intentional community house I had lived in for my four years there. Knowing that I needed to find community and longing to stay close to God. Intrigued by the monastic way of life and wanting to figure out how to weave it into my everyday life. I had grown up in an highly abusive home, and the intentional community was a place that had offered a safe and prayerful home, something I knew I needed to find (on a physical and spiritual level) that would give me the stability to continue to do the work of healing in therapy and spiritual direction.
I was a small group leader at a retreat that summer when the retreat leader threw out one, easily to miss sentence, that the Holy Spirit used, saying, “Pay attention!” The retreat leader said something like, “I’m part of a dispersed monastic Benedictine Methodist community. Talk to me if you want to know more.” As I sat, weeping with the importance of this sentence, not yet really knowing cognitively why it was so important, at this answer to prayers, at this shaking by the Spirit. I knew I needed to find out more and so I had lunch with the bearer of this message!
I am so thankful for that single moment in time, for St. Brigid Monastery has been a stable and prayerful touchstone for me since then. During the 4 years after seminary I lived in 9 different homes. I was sent to Canada for 3 1/2 months when work visas were an issue. I worked in stressful situations after this, and as I changed jobs, I was really searching for a way to fully live into my calling to be a spiritual director while still remaining connected to the church. Life felt rocky and I often felt like I was not seen or valued by the people in power. The monastery gave me a place of stability, a home to return to each time I entered the oratory in prayer, a place where I was loved for who I was, and encouraged to continue to grow into more of who God created me to be. The seemingly simple act of living in community (while dispersed), of praying with one another, of showing up, of allowing God to work in me and continually transform me, of listening and discerning with people who love me, has led me to a life where I am being converted day by day, psalm by psalm, formation meeting by formation meeting. I have discovered that Christian community, at its best, helps us live into and find home in God. The true home for us all, the place where we all can find love, and hope, and comfort, and encouragement.
I was recently in Canada again, visiting family. As I walked through the woods that I had visited daily when I was exiled there, it hit me how much I have changed since those days a dozen years or more before. I feel so much more at peace and more content with who and whose I am. I no longer doubt that God is my home. I am rooted in the psalms (yes, even the ones that are hard to read!), and secure in my being in ways that go deeper than words. And it has taken a lot of healing, and hard work on my part, with many therapy and spiritual direction appointments, but I was awed at the difference I felt in my inner most being from those walks years ago. St. Brigid’s has been a large part of the shaping of this for me, both with the practice, practice, practice, and with the individuals who saw me at my core, not at my brokenness, and gave room and space and place for that core to emerge.
Pay attention to the moments! To the words that are maybe out of context of the whole but that touch you deeply. To the invitations from God that come your way….maybe in answer to prayer, but maybe out of the blue. Listen with the ears of your heart so you can recognize the importance of these moments. They do something to you. They take a hold in you. They move you. If you are aware of them. Pay attention to the moments, the nudges, the calls, the challenges, the longings of your being that are centered in God. Pay attention to the moments. And see how God is inviting you to a place where you can grow to be more of who God is inviting you to be!
"But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love." - Rule of St. Benedict, prologue 49
I first heard about St. Brigid at just the right time. I had just graduated from seminary and was leaving the intentional community house I had lived in for my four years there. Knowing that I needed to find community and longing to stay close to God. Intrigued by the monastic way of life and wanting to figure out how to weave it into my everyday life. I had grown up in an highly abusive home, and the intentional community was a place that had offered a safe and prayerful home, something I knew I needed to find (on a physical and spiritual level) that would give me the stability to continue to do the work of healing in therapy and spiritual direction.
I was a small group leader at a retreat that summer when the retreat leader threw out one, easily to miss sentence, that the Holy Spirit used, saying, “Pay attention!” The retreat leader said something like, “I’m part of a dispersed monastic Benedictine Methodist community. Talk to me if you want to know more.” As I sat, weeping with the importance of this sentence, not yet really knowing cognitively why it was so important, at this answer to prayers, at this shaking by the Spirit. I knew I needed to find out more and so I had lunch with the bearer of this message!
I am so thankful for that single moment in time, for St. Brigid Monastery has been a stable and prayerful touchstone for me since then. During the 4 years after seminary I lived in 9 different homes. I was sent to Canada for 3 1/2 months when work visas were an issue. I worked in stressful situations after this, and as I changed jobs, I was really searching for a way to fully live into my calling to be a spiritual director while still remaining connected to the church. Life felt rocky and I often felt like I was not seen or valued by the people in power. The monastery gave me a place of stability, a home to return to each time I entered the oratory in prayer, a place where I was loved for who I was, and encouraged to continue to grow into more of who God created me to be. The seemingly simple act of living in community (while dispersed), of praying with one another, of showing up, of allowing God to work in me and continually transform me, of listening and discerning with people who love me, has led me to a life where I am being converted day by day, psalm by psalm, formation meeting by formation meeting. I have discovered that Christian community, at its best, helps us live into and find home in God. The true home for us all, the place where we all can find love, and hope, and comfort, and encouragement.
I was recently in Canada again, visiting family. As I walked through the woods that I had visited daily when I was exiled there, it hit me how much I have changed since those days a dozen years or more before. I feel so much more at peace and more content with who and whose I am. I no longer doubt that God is my home. I am rooted in the psalms (yes, even the ones that are hard to read!), and secure in my being in ways that go deeper than words. And it has taken a lot of healing, and hard work on my part, with many therapy and spiritual direction appointments, but I was awed at the difference I felt in my inner most being from those walks years ago. St. Brigid’s has been a large part of the shaping of this for me, both with the practice, practice, practice, and with the individuals who saw me at my core, not at my brokenness, and gave room and space and place for that core to emerge.
Pay attention to the moments! To the words that are maybe out of context of the whole but that touch you deeply. To the invitations from God that come your way….maybe in answer to prayer, but maybe out of the blue. Listen with the ears of your heart so you can recognize the importance of these moments. They do something to you. They take a hold in you. They move you. If you are aware of them. Pay attention to the moments, the nudges, the calls, the challenges, the longings of your being that are centered in God. Pay attention to the moments. And see how God is inviting you to a place where you can grow to be more of who God is inviting you to be!
About the author
Alison Hendley is an experienced spiritual director offering one on one direction and supervision and has a deep love for nature, often bringing God's creation intentionally into a session. She has trained in Eco Therapy and how the body can support healing.
Alison is a Deacon with the United Methodist Church, currently serving Clearwater UMC, and a professed monk of St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery.
As a woman who has worked through her own personal trauma from childhood abuse, Alison is gifted at working with others on their healing journeys. She is highly intuitive and uses her gifts to serve others in becoming more fully alive and whole. Having grown up in London and lived in both rural and urban California, she has interacted with many cultures and diverse people, which she enjoys. She now resides in Central Minnesota with her dog and cat, and loves nature, kayaking, hiking, gardening, and spending time with friends.
Alison Hendley is an experienced spiritual director offering one on one direction and supervision and has a deep love for nature, often bringing God's creation intentionally into a session. She has trained in Eco Therapy and how the body can support healing.
Alison is a Deacon with the United Methodist Church, currently serving Clearwater UMC, and a professed monk of St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery.
As a woman who has worked through her own personal trauma from childhood abuse, Alison is gifted at working with others on their healing journeys. She is highly intuitive and uses her gifts to serve others in becoming more fully alive and whole. Having grown up in London and lived in both rural and urban California, she has interacted with many cultures and diverse people, which she enjoys. She now resides in Central Minnesota with her dog and cat, and loves nature, kayaking, hiking, gardening, and spending time with friends.
August 2022
I was the smallest girl in my Catholic school class, but my imagination was huge! One day I had big ideas after witnessing joy among the sisters at the convent.
I was 9 years old, waiting on a bench to be dismissed from lunch to play. I was chosen by the school secretary for an important mission to the convent. I was to deliver a letter.
I set off, clutching the envelope and skipping with glee for this diversion. Approaching the convent, I heard a distant sound of laughter and Irish Gaelic chatter. As I drew closer, this joyful noise grew louder, emanating from an open window. Amazed, I froze. I knew the nuns for stern academic guidance. What was this levity?
I was a genuinely pious child, and wondered about becoming a sister one day, but I didn’t think the religious life would be any fun! Besides, I wanted also to be a priest, a teacher, a wife, a mother, an artist and a writer. There was no way for a little Catholic girl to want ALL of that! What was I to do?
I made a secret plan to try to do it all, but I didn’t tell anyone. I would have been mocked or scolded, or put on the nun track. As years went by, the right people to encourage my dreams came into my life.
I went to college, became a teacher, and found the United Methodist Church. I became a candidate for ministry, and married a delightful Methodist guy who loved my wild ideas. I had my first child before seminary, and my second one was on the way when I graduated.
While we were raising two lively kids, and serving my second appointment, Chuck came down with cancer. When he died, I trudged the paradox of grief: You never “get over it.” You miss your loved one, while you also receive new life.
My spiritual director at that time was a Catholic sister who had been a wife and mother before her husband died, and then she had a calling to the convent. I didn’t see myself doing that, but I mentioned my wild ideas to her anyway. She said that there are many ways to be monastic.
Fast forward to the Academy for Spiritual Formation in 2015, where a brother in St. Brigid was a dean. My United Methodist clergy colleague, who is a sister in St. Brigid, saw my post on Facebook about the Academy. She and asked me to say hi to her brother, and I thought, hey, maybe this monastic community is for me!
And that’s how I came to know about St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery. And by the grace of God in those who have encouraged me along the way, I have indeed embraced all the wild ideas I had as a child.
I was the smallest girl in my Catholic school class, but my imagination was huge! One day I had big ideas after witnessing joy among the sisters at the convent.
I was 9 years old, waiting on a bench to be dismissed from lunch to play. I was chosen by the school secretary for an important mission to the convent. I was to deliver a letter.
I set off, clutching the envelope and skipping with glee for this diversion. Approaching the convent, I heard a distant sound of laughter and Irish Gaelic chatter. As I drew closer, this joyful noise grew louder, emanating from an open window. Amazed, I froze. I knew the nuns for stern academic guidance. What was this levity?
I was a genuinely pious child, and wondered about becoming a sister one day, but I didn’t think the religious life would be any fun! Besides, I wanted also to be a priest, a teacher, a wife, a mother, an artist and a writer. There was no way for a little Catholic girl to want ALL of that! What was I to do?
I made a secret plan to try to do it all, but I didn’t tell anyone. I would have been mocked or scolded, or put on the nun track. As years went by, the right people to encourage my dreams came into my life.
I went to college, became a teacher, and found the United Methodist Church. I became a candidate for ministry, and married a delightful Methodist guy who loved my wild ideas. I had my first child before seminary, and my second one was on the way when I graduated.
While we were raising two lively kids, and serving my second appointment, Chuck came down with cancer. When he died, I trudged the paradox of grief: You never “get over it.” You miss your loved one, while you also receive new life.
My spiritual director at that time was a Catholic sister who had been a wife and mother before her husband died, and then she had a calling to the convent. I didn’t see myself doing that, but I mentioned my wild ideas to her anyway. She said that there are many ways to be monastic.
Fast forward to the Academy for Spiritual Formation in 2015, where a brother in St. Brigid was a dean. My United Methodist clergy colleague, who is a sister in St. Brigid, saw my post on Facebook about the Academy. She and asked me to say hi to her brother, and I thought, hey, maybe this monastic community is for me!
And that’s how I came to know about St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery. And by the grace of God in those who have encouraged me along the way, I have indeed embraced all the wild ideas I had as a child.
Rev. Becky Goodwin found St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery in 2015 and made her final oblation in 2019. She retired from pastoral ministry in 2020 after 26 years of service in United Methodist churches in California. Before ordination, she was an elementary school teacher for 11 years, and she has a great heart for ministry with children. In retirement, her ministry is spiritual direction with individuals and groups, and guest preaching. She would love to find herself in ministry with children again soon.
Becky was joyfully married to Chuck Myer from 1985 till 2008, when he died from cancer. With her teenage kids, Holly and Tim, she began a journey of wisdom in bereavement which continues today.
Good things have come to the family. The young ones graduated from university and work today in the arts and entertainment. In 2016, Becky married the Rev. Paul Colbert, an Episcopal priest and member of another Benedictine dispersed monastery, the Community of Solitude. Together, Becky and Paul enjoy keeping house, painting icons, and taking walks.
Becky is a lifelong writer, now devoting much of her retirement time to the art and craft of writing poetry, memoir, and whatever else the Spirit wants her to write!
July 2022
I love language, and languages (though I’ve never been terribly fluent in any language other than my native tongue of American English), and sometimes words or phrases from other languages can provide an insight into life that English just doesn’t seem to understand. For instance, the Danish word hygge, which roughly translates to “a feeling of comfort and coziness,” has helped me survive through some cold winters in northern Ohio, curled up in front of a crackling electric fire in my living room with a dog at my feet and knitting in hand. The Germans have a lot of words that are nearly untranslatable into other languages, such as verschlimmbessern (to make something worse by trying to improve it–haven’t we all done that at some point?) My favorite German word that means more than can be expressed in a single English word is fernweh, which literally means “far pain,” and roughly means “a longing for a place you’ve never been before.” Fernweh is how one of my students described their time in college once–you’re not exactly where you want to end up, and you know where you want to go, but that place seems far off in the distance. Fernweh is also how I would describe my journey to St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery.
The first time I read the Rule of St. Benedict, I was struck by a sense of fernweh for the kind of life it described–a community where everyone has a job to do, everyone’s work is valued, and everything is done within the framework of prayer. I longed to be part of a community that followed this Rule, but I knew that I was prevented from such a life because I:
It was during a sabbatical I took in the summer of 2020 (which was both the best and worst summer to take a sabbatical ever!), that I really dove deeply into the Rule of St. Benedict, and discovered St. Brigid’s monastery. I became a postulant in the early fall of that year, and then a novice on Gaudete Sunday in Advent 2020. What I’ve learned since then is that the fernweh I felt for a monastic life goes deeper than just living out the Rule with my sisters and brothers in the community. It’s actually a longing for another place, which is both far off and nearby–the Kingdom of God. For it is in God’s realm that the way of life we live in the monastic community becomes subsumed by the reality of life in the light of the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ. In the New Jerusalem, there will be no need for a Rule, because all of life will be integrated into the praise of God. We won't need to pray the liturgy of the hours, because every hour is the right time to lift our voices in praise. The fernweh I felt for this monastic community is really a longing for that day when all creation will see God together, and the glory of God will be revealed. I suspect that fernweh of this kind is fairly common–perhaps even universal to the human condition.
Do you feel that same sense of longing? Do you have a feeling of fernweh for the kingdom of heaven? What practices (personal or communal) help you to live out the Kingdom of God in the here-and-now?
The prayers of our community are with all who long to experience the kingdom of heaven. Peace be with you.
About the author
David MacDonald lives in Ada, Ohio, with his wife, two dogs, three cats, and a set of bagpipes. He and his wife have two children, who are both college students. David is the university chaplain at Ohio Northern University, and is the founder and sole employee of Glenbogle Spiritual Direction, Coaching, and Consulting. He blogs online as “The Grumpy Contemplative,” a persona that only slightly resembles who he is in reality. He is the author of the book, Benedict on Campus: Eight Spiritual Disciplines for Collegiate Ministry (Wesley’s Foundry Press, 2018), and several articles for Presence, the journal of Spiritual Direction. In his spare time, he loves to knit, camp with the family, hike, and write bad poetry that no one will ever read.
I love language, and languages (though I’ve never been terribly fluent in any language other than my native tongue of American English), and sometimes words or phrases from other languages can provide an insight into life that English just doesn’t seem to understand. For instance, the Danish word hygge, which roughly translates to “a feeling of comfort and coziness,” has helped me survive through some cold winters in northern Ohio, curled up in front of a crackling electric fire in my living room with a dog at my feet and knitting in hand. The Germans have a lot of words that are nearly untranslatable into other languages, such as verschlimmbessern (to make something worse by trying to improve it–haven’t we all done that at some point?) My favorite German word that means more than can be expressed in a single English word is fernweh, which literally means “far pain,” and roughly means “a longing for a place you’ve never been before.” Fernweh is how one of my students described their time in college once–you’re not exactly where you want to end up, and you know where you want to go, but that place seems far off in the distance. Fernweh is also how I would describe my journey to St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery.
The first time I read the Rule of St. Benedict, I was struck by a sense of fernweh for the kind of life it described–a community where everyone has a job to do, everyone’s work is valued, and everything is done within the framework of prayer. I longed to be part of a community that followed this Rule, but I knew that I was prevented from such a life because I:
- Am a Methodist
- Am married with two children
- Like the two facts above, and don’t want to give them up.
It was during a sabbatical I took in the summer of 2020 (which was both the best and worst summer to take a sabbatical ever!), that I really dove deeply into the Rule of St. Benedict, and discovered St. Brigid’s monastery. I became a postulant in the early fall of that year, and then a novice on Gaudete Sunday in Advent 2020. What I’ve learned since then is that the fernweh I felt for a monastic life goes deeper than just living out the Rule with my sisters and brothers in the community. It’s actually a longing for another place, which is both far off and nearby–the Kingdom of God. For it is in God’s realm that the way of life we live in the monastic community becomes subsumed by the reality of life in the light of the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ. In the New Jerusalem, there will be no need for a Rule, because all of life will be integrated into the praise of God. We won't need to pray the liturgy of the hours, because every hour is the right time to lift our voices in praise. The fernweh I felt for this monastic community is really a longing for that day when all creation will see God together, and the glory of God will be revealed. I suspect that fernweh of this kind is fairly common–perhaps even universal to the human condition.
Do you feel that same sense of longing? Do you have a feeling of fernweh for the kingdom of heaven? What practices (personal or communal) help you to live out the Kingdom of God in the here-and-now?
The prayers of our community are with all who long to experience the kingdom of heaven. Peace be with you.
About the author
David MacDonald lives in Ada, Ohio, with his wife, two dogs, three cats, and a set of bagpipes. He and his wife have two children, who are both college students. David is the university chaplain at Ohio Northern University, and is the founder and sole employee of Glenbogle Spiritual Direction, Coaching, and Consulting. He blogs online as “The Grumpy Contemplative,” a persona that only slightly resembles who he is in reality. He is the author of the book, Benedict on Campus: Eight Spiritual Disciplines for Collegiate Ministry (Wesley’s Foundry Press, 2018), and several articles for Presence, the journal of Spiritual Direction. In his spare time, he loves to knit, camp with the family, hike, and write bad poetry that no one will ever read.
June 2022
So what is a girl from a Boston Irish Catholic family doing in this dispersed Methodist Benedictine Monastic community? Well, when my roots were pulled from that Boston landscape, and then, as a teen, I untethered myself from any religious institution, I remained unrooted from spiritual community, although I never let go of God or sound theology. Still in search, during my graduate school studies of literature, a dear classmate and friend invited me to her Methodist Church. What delighted me was that women in the Methodist church are prepared for an all-inclusive place in this denomination. I also learned about their active social justice programs, very similar to Catholic social teachings, but, again, the Methodists give full attention and active support for women’s needs.
As a Catholic, as well as a Methodist, I explored a notion that God might be calling me to a monastic community, but through prayer and conversation with wise friends, I realized that a cloistered life was probably not the spiritual nudge I experienced. I continued my journey of discovery for a spiritual landscape grounded in theology with Bible Study groups and reading the wisdom literature of Dostoyevsky, whose characters journey through their conflicts between faith and doubt, moral responsibility, and finally discover salvation in God. Shakespeare’s Tragedies, which examine human character flaws, all the challenges and conflicts that Odysseus encountered trying to reach home after the Trojan War, and the novels of George Elliot (birth name, Mary Ann Evans), who illustrates the spiritual and social challenges for women in the Eighteenth Century, not so divergent from ours today. The beautiful, terrible wisdom in the poetry of Emily Dickinson, Mary Oliver, Seamus Heaney, Langston Hughes, William Blake, Rita Dove, Rupi Kaur, Li Young Lee. These works helped me get hold of what exactly and where I longed to be rooted.
I didn’t ignore that inkling of God possibly whispering, Ahem, listen. Although I’m an introvert, my stubborn, persistent nature as woman fueled my pilgrimage to discover my spiritual landscape. And I did listen. I found St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery, which over the years, has evolved as a dispersed and ecumenical monastic community of men and women. This monastery is my home and allows my Catholic, Methodist, Irish self to remain intact. Via Zoom, we pray the Divine Office daily, which this pandemic has not interrupted, and during which, I think, prayer together in community is even more necessary. My St. Brigid sisters and brothers in Christ, with whom I pray with three times each day, are my family. They influence, challenge, and support my Benedictine commitment to stability, fidelity, and obedience. For me, these commitments, outside of this community, would leave me unrooted and untethered.
About the author
Linda Marie Goddard came to St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery through what she calls her circuitous pilgrimage toward a spiritual home. The memoirs and autobiographies of many monastics, such as Kathleen Norris and her book, The Cloister Walk and Thomas Merton and his book, The Seven Storey Mountain, supported her to seek and commit to a monastic life, which she now cherishes. As a monastic, she lives in exile from the world while living in the world. Linda made her initial oblation to St. Brigid on August 11, 2002, the Feast of St. Clare of Assisi, her final oblation on July 11, 2005, the feast of St. Benedict, and her Monastic Profession on July 18, 2019.
Linda is a poet and creative nonfiction writer, whose writing has been on hold for a while for a few reasons.
She is a Part Time Professor of English for Valencia College in Orlando, Florida. Her courses are designated under the Valencia Peace and Justice Institute Guidelines. In addition to teaching courses on writing for peace and justice, Linda is also a peace activist. Her spiritual director helped her see that for most of her life, she has carried within her a “Holy Longing” for all of humanity to be healthy, well-housed, well-fed, and well-educated. And, too, this longing is for this beautiful planet Earth to heal and give healthy life to all living beings.
Linda has lived in Central Florida for almost fifty years, has raised her two children in this landscape, but her roots still hold deep into the Massachusetts landscape of her family, whose roots there possibly go all the way back to the Seventeen Hundreds.
So what is a girl from a Boston Irish Catholic family doing in this dispersed Methodist Benedictine Monastic community? Well, when my roots were pulled from that Boston landscape, and then, as a teen, I untethered myself from any religious institution, I remained unrooted from spiritual community, although I never let go of God or sound theology. Still in search, during my graduate school studies of literature, a dear classmate and friend invited me to her Methodist Church. What delighted me was that women in the Methodist church are prepared for an all-inclusive place in this denomination. I also learned about their active social justice programs, very similar to Catholic social teachings, but, again, the Methodists give full attention and active support for women’s needs.
As a Catholic, as well as a Methodist, I explored a notion that God might be calling me to a monastic community, but through prayer and conversation with wise friends, I realized that a cloistered life was probably not the spiritual nudge I experienced. I continued my journey of discovery for a spiritual landscape grounded in theology with Bible Study groups and reading the wisdom literature of Dostoyevsky, whose characters journey through their conflicts between faith and doubt, moral responsibility, and finally discover salvation in God. Shakespeare’s Tragedies, which examine human character flaws, all the challenges and conflicts that Odysseus encountered trying to reach home after the Trojan War, and the novels of George Elliot (birth name, Mary Ann Evans), who illustrates the spiritual and social challenges for women in the Eighteenth Century, not so divergent from ours today. The beautiful, terrible wisdom in the poetry of Emily Dickinson, Mary Oliver, Seamus Heaney, Langston Hughes, William Blake, Rita Dove, Rupi Kaur, Li Young Lee. These works helped me get hold of what exactly and where I longed to be rooted.
I didn’t ignore that inkling of God possibly whispering, Ahem, listen. Although I’m an introvert, my stubborn, persistent nature as woman fueled my pilgrimage to discover my spiritual landscape. And I did listen. I found St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery, which over the years, has evolved as a dispersed and ecumenical monastic community of men and women. This monastery is my home and allows my Catholic, Methodist, Irish self to remain intact. Via Zoom, we pray the Divine Office daily, which this pandemic has not interrupted, and during which, I think, prayer together in community is even more necessary. My St. Brigid sisters and brothers in Christ, with whom I pray with three times each day, are my family. They influence, challenge, and support my Benedictine commitment to stability, fidelity, and obedience. For me, these commitments, outside of this community, would leave me unrooted and untethered.
About the author
Linda Marie Goddard came to St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery through what she calls her circuitous pilgrimage toward a spiritual home. The memoirs and autobiographies of many monastics, such as Kathleen Norris and her book, The Cloister Walk and Thomas Merton and his book, The Seven Storey Mountain, supported her to seek and commit to a monastic life, which she now cherishes. As a monastic, she lives in exile from the world while living in the world. Linda made her initial oblation to St. Brigid on August 11, 2002, the Feast of St. Clare of Assisi, her final oblation on July 11, 2005, the feast of St. Benedict, and her Monastic Profession on July 18, 2019.
Linda is a poet and creative nonfiction writer, whose writing has been on hold for a while for a few reasons.
She is a Part Time Professor of English for Valencia College in Orlando, Florida. Her courses are designated under the Valencia Peace and Justice Institute Guidelines. In addition to teaching courses on writing for peace and justice, Linda is also a peace activist. Her spiritual director helped her see that for most of her life, she has carried within her a “Holy Longing” for all of humanity to be healthy, well-housed, well-fed, and well-educated. And, too, this longing is for this beautiful planet Earth to heal and give healthy life to all living beings.
Linda has lived in Central Florida for almost fifty years, has raised her two children in this landscape, but her roots still hold deep into the Massachusetts landscape of her family, whose roots there possibly go all the way back to the Seventeen Hundreds.
May 2022
I am a very new participant in the monastic community of St. Brigid of Kildare. I made initial oblation in February of this year after a time in the community as a postulant.
As someone who has been pastoring local churches for most of my life, I have a lifelong interest in worship. I lead public worship often several times a week. But the part of my worship life that has always been a struggle is the consistency of my own personal worship and prayer life.
For many years I have used one form or another of the Daily Office. The Daily Office is a series of prayers said at different times during the day, having its origins in monastic communities who spend much of their day in prayer. But for me, praying as a solitary individual, something was always lacking for me in praying alone.
Over the years I also have attended a number of retreats that were held in the retreat centers of monastic communities. In these times I found opportunities to connect with the prayer life of the monks. On one such retreat I was to gather with some colleagues at the guest house at Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas. I arrived early for some personal reflection. Suddenly the weather changed, and Atchison had an ice storm. My friends could not get to the retreat and, because of the weather, I couldn’t leave either. So, I was invited to join the monks for meals and prayer over the next four days. I found the experience powerful, meaningful, and enlightening!
I found the thoughtful unhurried commitment to prayer by the monks to be spiritually uplifting. Their prayers were never rushed. They seemed to be fully present with God in their prayers. Prayer was not just an afterthought; it was the work of their lives!
After several such experiences, I began to consider the idea of becoming an oblate with a Benedictine monastery. But as a United Methodist pastor who, as part of my ministry, may move to another appointment in any year, I was not sure which monastery I could affiliate. It was at this time I ran across the website of St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery, a dispersed monastic community with roots in the United Methodist Church.
This geographically scattered but spiritually connected group of Christians seeking a more disciplined spiritual life feels exactly like what I have been searching for!
As Christians all of us must find ways to balance our work, personal life, service to God and our devotional life. As a novice in this community, I feel that St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery is helping me do that.
About the author
Tim Bonney made initial oblation on February 1, 2022 on the Feast Day of St. Brigid of Kildare. Tim was raised in the St. Louis metro area and is the Lead Pastor of First United Methodist Church of Indianola, Iowa where he has served for five years. Tim is an Elder in Full Connection in the Iowa Annual Conference UMC. His interest in Benedictine spirituality developed through his love of praying the daily office and opportunities he had to attend retreats that were hosted at Benedictine monasteries. While those retreats were for other organizations and on other topics, he found opportunities to experience the prayer life of Benedictine communities and the joy of a life centered in Ora et Labor (Pray and Work.)
I am a very new participant in the monastic community of St. Brigid of Kildare. I made initial oblation in February of this year after a time in the community as a postulant.
As someone who has been pastoring local churches for most of my life, I have a lifelong interest in worship. I lead public worship often several times a week. But the part of my worship life that has always been a struggle is the consistency of my own personal worship and prayer life.
For many years I have used one form or another of the Daily Office. The Daily Office is a series of prayers said at different times during the day, having its origins in monastic communities who spend much of their day in prayer. But for me, praying as a solitary individual, something was always lacking for me in praying alone.
Over the years I also have attended a number of retreats that were held in the retreat centers of monastic communities. In these times I found opportunities to connect with the prayer life of the monks. On one such retreat I was to gather with some colleagues at the guest house at Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas. I arrived early for some personal reflection. Suddenly the weather changed, and Atchison had an ice storm. My friends could not get to the retreat and, because of the weather, I couldn’t leave either. So, I was invited to join the monks for meals and prayer over the next four days. I found the experience powerful, meaningful, and enlightening!
I found the thoughtful unhurried commitment to prayer by the monks to be spiritually uplifting. Their prayers were never rushed. They seemed to be fully present with God in their prayers. Prayer was not just an afterthought; it was the work of their lives!
After several such experiences, I began to consider the idea of becoming an oblate with a Benedictine monastery. But as a United Methodist pastor who, as part of my ministry, may move to another appointment in any year, I was not sure which monastery I could affiliate. It was at this time I ran across the website of St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery, a dispersed monastic community with roots in the United Methodist Church.
This geographically scattered but spiritually connected group of Christians seeking a more disciplined spiritual life feels exactly like what I have been searching for!
As Christians all of us must find ways to balance our work, personal life, service to God and our devotional life. As a novice in this community, I feel that St. Brigid of Kildare Monastery is helping me do that.
About the author
Tim Bonney made initial oblation on February 1, 2022 on the Feast Day of St. Brigid of Kildare. Tim was raised in the St. Louis metro area and is the Lead Pastor of First United Methodist Church of Indianola, Iowa where he has served for five years. Tim is an Elder in Full Connection in the Iowa Annual Conference UMC. His interest in Benedictine spirituality developed through his love of praying the daily office and opportunities he had to attend retreats that were hosted at Benedictine monasteries. While those retreats were for other organizations and on other topics, he found opportunities to experience the prayer life of Benedictine communities and the joy of a life centered in Ora et Labor (Pray and Work.)
April 2022
A book that changed my life and set me on the road toward monasticism was Richard Fletcher's The Barbarian Conversion: From Paganism to Christianity. While today we often consider Europe to be the post-Christian continent, this book tells the story of how Europe became Christian in the first place. This conversion took far longer than most people imagine—about a millennium—but what struck me most was how the process was effected among the common people, not at sword point, but through the courageous and faithful witness of monastic communities. I was living overseas at the time, and this was not a model of missions that I had encountered in my evangelical Methodist tradition.
Following soon thereafter, two more books advanced my reflections: St Patrick's Letter and Confession and Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. In Patrick, I met a man who understood himself to be an "exile for the love of God." This phrase prompted an entire line of investigation into scripture and history about the themes of exile and home—especially about one who goes to make one's home with others for love's sake. When we look for this theme in scripture, we see it everywhere, even in the very activity of Divine Love who becomes flesh to dwell among us. But we also see it in history, including in the extraordinary missional activity that burst out of Ireland within a few generations of Patrick's self-exile there. From Bonhoeffer's meditation on Christian community, I encountered the new idea (to me, at the time) that the heart of every Christian community is praying the psalms together. These and other books put me on a track of desiring that my own life and work in the world to be grounded in Christian community that prays the psalms together. And monasticism had a word for that: oblation.
My oblation at St Brigid's is the fruit of this desire to be an exile for the love of God whose worldly vocation is grounded in Christian worship and prayer. Has my oblation helped? On one level, my life and thoughts are as distracted as they ever have been. I was (and still am) expecting that my monastic oblation would lead to some great internal serenity in the face of life's common and uncommon hardships, temptations, anxieties, and griefs. This has not happened.
Yet, every day we begin again. There is hardly a corner of my life that has not been transformed by my monastic oblation, especially by praying the psalms. My anger, fear, grief, and hope can be found therein. The war in Ukraine? The fears for my future? The sense of loss in exile? The joy of delighting in God's love? It's all there in the psalms. When I cannot come up with the words anymore—and even when I lack faith, here are the words I can say. And so, we begin again: every day is an invitation that here is God's faithful love waiting to hold me as a babe on his mother's breast.
About the author
Glenn Harden took his initial oblation vows on All Saints Day in 2006. He was born and raised in Wilmore, Kentucky, where he belonged to the local United Methodist Church. He met his wife, Elizabeth, at The George Washington University, and they married in 1993. Glenn worked as a procurement official in Washington DC until 1999, before returning to school to get his teaching license. He taught high school in the Shenandoah valley, and then in Jarabacoa, Dominican Republic, where he and his wife moved in 2003. It was in Jarabacoa that Glenn began his journey toward St. Brigid's while undertaking a reading project on what it meant to be "an exile for the love of God" (St. Patrick). In Jarabacoa, Glenn and his wife were deeply involved in dog rescue, and Glenn also started a ministry to help victims and survivors of the sex trade and their families. Glenn and Elizabeth returned to Wilmore in 2015 with five of their rescue dogs. Glenn has Master's degrees in History and Theological Studies and a PhD in Political Science. He currently teaches political science and history classes at Asbury University in Wilmore. Glenn is also an artist and author of The Sex Trade, Evil and Christian Theology.
Following soon thereafter, two more books advanced my reflections: St Patrick's Letter and Confession and Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. In Patrick, I met a man who understood himself to be an "exile for the love of God." This phrase prompted an entire line of investigation into scripture and history about the themes of exile and home—especially about one who goes to make one's home with others for love's sake. When we look for this theme in scripture, we see it everywhere, even in the very activity of Divine Love who becomes flesh to dwell among us. But we also see it in history, including in the extraordinary missional activity that burst out of Ireland within a few generations of Patrick's self-exile there. From Bonhoeffer's meditation on Christian community, I encountered the new idea (to me, at the time) that the heart of every Christian community is praying the psalms together. These and other books put me on a track of desiring that my own life and work in the world to be grounded in Christian community that prays the psalms together. And monasticism had a word for that: oblation.
My oblation at St Brigid's is the fruit of this desire to be an exile for the love of God whose worldly vocation is grounded in Christian worship and prayer. Has my oblation helped? On one level, my life and thoughts are as distracted as they ever have been. I was (and still am) expecting that my monastic oblation would lead to some great internal serenity in the face of life's common and uncommon hardships, temptations, anxieties, and griefs. This has not happened.
Yet, every day we begin again. There is hardly a corner of my life that has not been transformed by my monastic oblation, especially by praying the psalms. My anger, fear, grief, and hope can be found therein. The war in Ukraine? The fears for my future? The sense of loss in exile? The joy of delighting in God's love? It's all there in the psalms. When I cannot come up with the words anymore—and even when I lack faith, here are the words I can say. And so, we begin again: every day is an invitation that here is God's faithful love waiting to hold me as a babe on his mother's breast.
About the author
Glenn Harden took his initial oblation vows on All Saints Day in 2006. He was born and raised in Wilmore, Kentucky, where he belonged to the local United Methodist Church. He met his wife, Elizabeth, at The George Washington University, and they married in 1993. Glenn worked as a procurement official in Washington DC until 1999, before returning to school to get his teaching license. He taught high school in the Shenandoah valley, and then in Jarabacoa, Dominican Republic, where he and his wife moved in 2003. It was in Jarabacoa that Glenn began his journey toward St. Brigid's while undertaking a reading project on what it meant to be "an exile for the love of God" (St. Patrick). In Jarabacoa, Glenn and his wife were deeply involved in dog rescue, and Glenn also started a ministry to help victims and survivors of the sex trade and their families. Glenn and Elizabeth returned to Wilmore in 2015 with five of their rescue dogs. Glenn has Master's degrees in History and Theological Studies and a PhD in Political Science. He currently teaches political science and history classes at Asbury University in Wilmore. Glenn is also an artist and author of The Sex Trade, Evil and Christian Theology.