Attraction of Trappists’ strict observance fades
Yet, ascetic simplicity offers true counterculture in our cyber world
As a young man, I developed a curiosity about the Cistercian way of life. Part of my interest came from reading books by Thomas Merton, the dissolute young man who discovered a unity of life and spirit upon entering the Trappist monastery in Kentucky.
I read his book of essays, Contemplation in a World of Action, after I finished my BA in Regina and believed he well described the primary source of personal dislocation in a world of busy-ness and rapidly expanding technology. My studies in political science had not offered monasticism as a possible cure for what ails modern society.
But it took more than the insights of a celebrity monk to stir my interest. The Trappists’ no-frills prayer and liturgy and their closeness to the earth were also enticing. The Cistercians are ascetics, and they encounter God through manual labour. I was a lousy farmer but young and fit enough to be drawn to a life which involved strenuous work.
Years later, I moved to Winnipeg and, “still” not married, responded to the pull to visit the Notre Dame de Prairies monastery less than two hours drive away. I spent two weekends there on retreat. At that time, the monastery was almost completely French speaking. My previous unsuccessful struggles to learn French were a deal breaker. I would dig ditches for the Lord, but the French language seemed beyond me.
A couple years after my weekends at Notre Dame de Prairies, I moved back to Edmonton, met Nora, we married and raised four daughters. The monastery, meanwhile, dwindled down to two active monks, both well over 80, and was put up for sale.
I contrast the decline of the Manitoba Trappists with the enthusiasm of some for the pre-Vatican II Latin Mass. Some say the old rite, with its smells and bells, stirs a sense of reverence in them even though they don’t understand Latin. Pope Francis, however, is suppressing the expansion of the Old Mass not because it stirs reverence but because it is nurturing a phalanx of Catholics opposed to the teachings of the Second Vatican Council.
To its credit, the Tridentine rite draws the human body into the worship experience. In our increasingly disembodied cyberworld, that’s a big plus. But Trappist spirituality is even more holistic. Its asceticism, closeness to creation, chanting of the Hours, long periods of silence, emphasis on manual labour and utter simplicity make prayer a 24/7 aesthetic experience.
Currently, I am reading a new biography of St. Bernard of Clairvaux. Bernard helped the stumbling new Trappist order get on its feet when he joined, bringing along four of his brothers, an uncle and 25 friends. Over the first half of the 12th century, Bernard and the Clairvaux monastery of which he was abbot established 163 Cistercian monasteries across Europe. Rather than scaring off potential recruits, the austere Cistercian way attracted thousands.
The Trappists also had a major spurt in growth following the Second World War. Partly it was due to Merton’s bestselling autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain. More than that, the Cistercians offered a path of hope amidst the widespread ennui following two world wars.
So, I ask, why is the Tridentine Mass attractive to many while Cistercian monasteries are closing throughout the developed world? Perhaps we are no longer able to find joy in the Cistercians’ strict observance. Or maybe people of our age prefer rituals with more pop than the simplicity and anonymity of the Trappist way. Or perchance, people today get more thrills from fighting culture wars than from the difficult task of repentance and personal reform. Or lastly, in a world full of spiritual seekers, maybe we the Church have not made known the depth and diversity of Catholic spiritual traditions.
Each of these possibilities may have contributed to the decline of the Cistercians. Today, we need a countercultural faith, one which both rejects Western materialism and finds hope in God’s silent presence. We ought to take the Cistercian way to heart. By withdrawing from the feast of the senses we wait for the coming of the One who is present in silence and poverty.
The Catholic contemplative tradition offers hope for societal and personal renewal in an era in which the human soul seeks lasting peace while adrift in a roiling sea where stable landmarks are far from sight.
(Originally published in the Catholic Register issue of Feb. 13, 2022, catholicregister.org).
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Glen,
Thank you for this thoughtful piece. Like you I was intrigued by the Trappists and made trial of the life back in the day, in 1965. Unfortunately, I entered only 15 mos after a major reversion from atheism and a bad life. So, as a spiritual weakling I found myself thrown among the Marines of the Church. While I lasted, however, it was a beautiful life.
As you may know, the Trappists were a reform movement of the Cistercian order, a reform that began with Abbot Armand-Jean de Rancé at Our Lady of La Trappe in France around 1660. Every monastery of the Strict Observance in the world today traces to that monastery and that man. A reform was necessary for there was a falling off of Cistercian fervor over the centuries.
By this point, however, early 2022, the same sort of dynamic has long been in play. Even in 1965 I heard nothing of de Rancé and was given to understand that the order was casting off the Trappist, heavily penitential model in order to revert to what was presented as primitive, contemplative, Cistercian life. This naturally involved innumerable mitigations to the point where as Cistercian as the order may believe itself to be, it is surely no longer Trappist. At least in my opinion the blessing of God is off the order for that reason, for while the life continues to be penitential to a degree, it has been softened considerably. To have newspapers and magazines in the scriptorium would have been unthinkable, but is alright now. Want to pop down to the local library? Or fly across the country to preside at your niece’s wedding? Fine. Are these things evil? Of course not, but they neither are they Trappist or Cistercian.
As I said, I heard nothing of de Rancé in the novitiate, so when I stumbled across his two volume On the Sanctity and Duties of the Monastic State for sale on the internet, I scooped them up. They came very beat-up with a copyright of 1830 and markings from Gethsemane Abbey, which had evidently thrown them out, probably a long time ago.
There was no way I was not going to re-publish this treasure, and it is available now on Amazon in two volumes under the title Back to Asceticism: The Trappist Option. In conjunction with this I also re-published Ailbe Luddy’s The Real de Rancé.
Financially, this has definitely not been worthwhile, but the great hope is that some fervent soul will discover these gems and use them as a template for his own efforts. Yes, may the Lord fan into flame the Cistercian/ Trappist tradition once again!
Lee, I find your comment most interesting. I do not know that history but only of the origins of the order in the late 11th century at Citeaux and then, of course, the story of St. Bernard. In Brian Patrick McGuire's biography of St. Bernard, there is a map of all the monasteries founded during his life with La Trappe far away from the centre of things. I wondered how La Trappe played into the development of the order, and you have explained that. The Trappists are called the Cistercians of the Strict Observance which indicates that they are a reform movement within the broader Cistercian community. But I knew nothing of that history and have never previously heard of Abbot de Rance. As for myself, I don't know if I was ever serious about joining the order, but I was curious. I do remember the newspapers in the scriptorium. I was also shocked that the monks knew who I was. I had spent four years as editor of the Western Catholic Reporter in Edmonton, a position to which I returned after moving back to Edmonton from Winnipeg.