My Lay Cistercian Commitment

My status has changed. I am now a Committed Lay Cistercian of Gethsemani. Of course, there has been reason to think I should have been committed before now (pun, groan, please keep reading.). I am perhaps eccentric in some ways, but I feel centered and on the mark with this move. During Vespers on Saturday, 11 October, 2025, I stood before God, the monks of Gethsemani, and my Lay Cistercian colleagues and made my commitment as a Lay Cistercian. I affirmed my commitment to walk in a particular spiritual path in the same direction as others before me. 

It had been a long journey. I would have to go back and count how many times I’ve been to Gethsemani—it’s been a lot. I would have to think of the rooms I have used which would also be several. I probably could not give an accurate number of services in which I have been in the church and joined in the chanting and songs and prayers. So many times of checking in and checking out the grounds and trails and places that make Gethsemani special to me. 

As I reflect on the journey I guess I would have to say that it was the place that first caught my attention. It was a place so different from the churches and sanctuaries I had been in before. Stark, white, simple, silent—no screens, no pictures, no accessories. An eternal flame at the far end of the sanctuary behind the chancel was sometimes the only light. An icon of Mary and Jesus was the sole image to catch one’s eyes. Tall and straight. Sometimes light, sometimes dark. A holy space to be sure. 

You become silent when entering the church. If you do speak, you realize that your voice is bouncing off the walls and can be heard by others. In the same way that the space amplifies one’s voice, it also seems to amplify God’s silence in return. It is hard to explain if you have not been inside those walls to hear it. Both the sounds and the silence are powerful. 

And the place was also one of openness and a sense of freedom. Walking through the woods on a fall day hearing the crunch of dried oak and beech and hickory leaves. Catching your breath at the top of the one of the knobs that afforded a view of the monastery. Feeling the breeze on St Joseph’s hill on a fall afternoon. Even seeing a lunar eclipse in the cold night after Vigils in the dark in the church. Finding frost flowers on a cold November day. Fields that stretch out in different directions. Ponds and lakes that reflect the sky above them. What a slice of creation! The place is beautiful in so many ways. 

It is more than a place—it is a people, a group of monks who have vowed stability to this particular place and these particular people as the place where they will live, pray, worship, work, rest, and die. Through the years I have had small occasions in which to meet some of the monks and interact with them. Fr. Matthew’s talks after Compline were always rich and often amusing. He had a lyrical Irish way with words—the gift of gab which is ironic for a Trappist monk. He was gifted with stories and poetry. 

Brother Luke is usually on the organ bench. He was the guestmaster when I first went. I learned that he grew up in Knoxville and went to school at Bearden. I recall the service when another brother had gotten confused on the liturgy. Br Luke had played the first note, but the words that followed were not the right ones. Br Luke stopped the note and they tried again—again, incorrect. So Br Luke put his finger on that one key and played that one note until another brother assisted and they all literally ‘got on the same page.’ Br Luke welcomed me following the commitment service.

Fr Timothy is still with us. He was abbot when I first went to Gethsemani. He’s been in Rome for a long time working for the order. He’s back now and still has the sense of humor and smile that I remembered. He now uses a motorized wheelchair as he comes nearer to the end of his earthly journey.

Talked with Br Paul once about whether I should work on my D.Min. or join the LCG—at the time I had a hard time envisioning doing them both. I chose the D.Min. since I was still in active ministry. It seemed the right idea at the time. Glad that they times have changed. 

I’ve gotten to visit with Fr Michael the past couple of trips to Gethsemani. In his role with the LCG he oversees a good bit of this part of the monastery’s ministry. He is a pleasant soul. 

Fr Carlos is guestmaster now. He has had a battle with cancer in recent years. I was delighted to see him feeling good on this trip. 

I even saw Fr Roman once when he had come from his hermitage to the monastery to get his mail or other supplies. Not often that one sees an authentic hermit in this world! 

I’ve watched them shift choir stalls and even sides of the sanctuary. I’ve noticed when someone is absent. They are less like monks—holy and wholly distant figures— and more like brothers these days. It has taken some time for that to happen. 

After many trips and many services and many experiences, I am now at a point where it is more than a place, more than the people, it is a real presence of the Holy in a power that is hard to put into words. 

Driving down the road always feels like a homecoming now. Hearing the bells for the first time strikes a chord in my heart. Walking into the sanctuary stills my soul almost instantly. Opening my mouth to offer prayers and the Psalms is like an exhalation of all that has been holding on to me. Bowing to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit humbles me deeply. Praying that God will grant us a restful night and a peaceful death echoes through the years. Indeed the echoes of all that has been spoken, read, sung, and left unspoken resounds here. 

Walking in the woods opens my eyes, my ears, my mind—all of me—to the glory of God the creator. Woodpeckers laugh with joy. Sparrows sing praises I cannot imitate. Sun shining through yellow hickory leaves penetrates my sight. Walks bring reminders of others with whom I’ve shared these places. Let everything that has life praise the Lord! Sun, moon, stars, waters, clouds, skies, trees, leaves, lightning, snow, frost, animals and birds—all a manifestation to the glory of the presence of God. 

The Psalms, the prayers, the hymns, the liturgy—God breathing and alive in all of it. God’s presence reflected in every face. God perhaps reflected back from my own face.

There has been much in this journey. Many times of entry into the monastic setting and then re-entry back into the world of family, church, work, and worldly concerns. I always take some of the world with me back to Gethsemani and then I bring some of the monastery back to the mundane world that does not grasp the depth of light, live, and love that we are offered. 

Gethsemani is a touchstone for me—a place, a people, and a presence—that refreshes me for the next steps. I have learned much on this path; I have further to go; I  have taken an important step. But the journey is not yet done.