This Unchosen Cloister

You may have noticed that lately I've been absent from behind these cloister walls. I wish I could say I've been away on a long vacation, but the truth is far less glamorous. I've spent the last few weeks in a cloister not of my own choosing... within the little "cell" of a hospital room.

I hope to tell you more, soon, about this adventure. (I know you won't be able to wait). In the meantime, this is just to say "Hi! I'm back!" And I hope you're having a blessed Easter season.

'Thank God, there still remains one sanctuary, the sacredness of which no earthly power may violate…  It is the sanctuary of the human heart.  It needs no fixed place for its confines, no stated time for the opening of its gates, no particular hour of silence for its prayer.  A thought, a word, a moment of reflection, and by faith and by love, the soul is within the blessed refuge, and the gates are closed on the confusion of life with all its noise and tumult. It is secure against the bitterness and the pain of persecution, or hardship or trial, or hurt of body, or wound of earthly pride, or failure of worldly ambition, for there she is inviolable, sacred, impregnable in the fortress of her own spirit.' (From The Living Pyx of Jesus, Pelligrini and Co, 1941, p.101) 

'We cannot go to Jesus in the Tabernacle at every moment of the day, but we can turn inward to the Triune God at any moment, even in the midst of our day's worst difficulties.' (The Living Pyx of Jesus, Pelligrini, 1941, p. 27)

A Pop Up World

Painting: Joseph DeCamp

In the Secrecy of the Soul

Painting: Charles West Cope

A Cell in Your Heart

Your Cloister

The Hermit Soul

Painting: Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, St Francis

My Cell

Painting of Candlemas Day by Marianne Stokes, in US public domain due to age

A Cell Apart

'The bedroom of a person in the world is supposed to contain dear mementos and luxuries and ornaments; sundry easy-chairs and soft pillows and cosy nooks, which are considered adequate to console the bruised spirit after its daily tussle in the arena of men… but in the nun’s life the coziest, quietest nook is an altar before which to pray. Are we strong enough to keep in reserve no lair, no robber’s cave, where we can steal away from God, nursing our pet fancies, or handling the fairy gold of self-indulgence? Are we generous enough to merge ourselves wholly in the unselfishness of divinity? If not, we recoil from the frank simplicity, the austere plainness, of a nun’s cell. Here there is no place for withdrawal into a self which is mere selfishness. Over each door stands the name of a saint, and the mention of some virtue to be remembered and cultivated. The little beds are prim and hard; the pictures are few, and in their intention point heavenward. Cold, literally, the tiny rooms are... with one big window apiece giving plenty of light and air; no carpet, one chair; and the only richness to be detected in all this region of simplicity is that richest blessing – the consolation of faith.' (A Story of Courage, pp. 32-33)

Struggling to describe my first-ever stay in a monastic cell, I've realized that, some years ago, I already wrote about it. My reaction to being in such a setup surprised me, because I had approached this little room with some apprehension. It was a narrow fourth-floor cell, bare of all but the most basic necessities, with one window overlooking the cloister garden below. Here, I would maintain silence. Here, I would be removed from the busy world outside.

'I once spent several days in the cloister of a monastery,' I wrote of this experience. 'I stayed in a simple little cell furnished with twin bed, small chair, dresser, and one tiny table. There was no closet, only a hook behind the door. As the hook strained beneath the weight of all the clothing I had brought with me, I thought of how cluttered was my life compared to the lives of the nuns.

'I spent my first night in this cell sleepless, at times burying my face in the pillow hoping to muffle my sobs. I was not crying from sadness, nor from homesickness. I was crying from something else, something indescribable, something resulting from the strong presence of God that I knew was in that cell. There in that tiny room, I knew I was with God.

'Someone reminded me, several months later, that St. Catherine of Siena had been called to create a cell in her heart where she and God might meet together. Immediately I thought back to my little cell at the monastery. Certainly I, a cloistered heart, had a cell in my heart as well...' (from The Cloistered Heart)

'When the father and mother of St. Catherine of Siena deprived her of all opportunity for time and place to pray and meditate, our Lord inspired her to build a little oratory within her soul, where she could retire mentally and enjoy this holy heartfelt solitude while going about her outward duties.... Because of this, she afterwards counseled her spiritual children to make a cell within their own heart and dwell in it. Therefore, withdraw your spirit from time to time into your heart and there, apart from the world of men, you can converse heart to heart with God.' (St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life)

© Nancy Shuman. 

 thecloisteredheart.org     

  

 Photos by N Shuman, Georgetown Visitation Monastery, 1990s 


This post is part of our series 'A Story of Courage.' To continue in chronological order, click this line.

Tiptoeing Toward the Cell

’There is arithmetic in all this; and one is at a disadvantage until one learns to figure it out. A religious life is very nice in its calculations. If you follow the deductions of the cloister, you find out what seems good and remunerative in worldly life, and what is good and remunerative in a cloistered life, by a perfectly clear process of division and subtraction. The delusive speciousness of elegance in what we can buy is challenged by the genuine values of what the virtues can give us, even out of the seeming barrenness of a convent cell.’ (A Story of Courage, p. 33)

I've had intermittent trouble with our Internet connection. Plans for sharing all I would like about 'the cell' therefore, must be put on hold. In the meantime, I am spending a bit of time with the above paragraph, and particularly with its last sentence. I will admit that writing about my first experience 'in the seeming barrenness of a convent cell' is proving challenging. Primarily because there, I found the exact opposite of barrenness. But some things are hard to speak of, really.

Within a day or so (if the Internet cooperates, and by the grace of God), I shall try....

'The metaphor of the cell brings to mind the idea of a retreat in which the soul can renew its strength after the fatigue of the active life, where it can leave aside visible things to think about those that are invisible, and where it finally finds peace, far from external distractions…'(J.M. Perrin OP., from Catherine of Siena, Newman Press, 1965)


This post is part of our series 'A Story of Courage.' To continue in chronological order, click this line.

No Time Or Place To Pray?

'When the father and mother of St. Catherine of Sienna deprived her of all opportunity for time and place to pray and meditate, our Lord inspired her to build a little oratory within her soul, where she could retire mentally and enjoy this holy heartfelt solitude while going about her outward duties.... Because of this, she afterwards counseled her spiritual children to make a cell within their own heart and dwell in it.

'Therefore, withdraw your spirit from time to time into your heart and there, apart from the world of men, you can converse heart to heart with God.'

St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life



Painting: Camille Pissarro,The Maidservant,1867

Singing in the City

I came across the following this morning. It's a brief reflection, scribbled in my journal in the year 2000.

I was spending time in a monastery - not hidden in the woods somewhere, but situated in the historic edges of large, busy city. As a retreatant, I stayed in the cloister. 

One of the nuns later apologized for my being housed in a cell overlooking the sidewalk (rather than the cloister garden). No need for regrets, said I. 

I was exactly where I needed to be.

"Chant, as we prayed this morning, curled around me. I was nestled, as a baby in its mother's gentle arms. Lilting voices lifted like the softest of lullabies, and I was stilled.  Now I sit in my cell, looking out the window...

The houses across the street 'look at this one,' and this one 'looks at them.' They share a narrow street, yet they are divided by a world, by an entire culture. How like a cloistered heart looking at the face of someone across a room, a street, a yard, out a car window, in a store, in the midst of a family gathering.

I watch the sky turn light outside my window. The city is waking as I write this. Cars, buses, planes, all move along their way for one more day. Birds chatter, unmindful of the ways of man, of the city of man that is this bustling metropolis, this powerful and mighty place of power among the nations of earth.

Perhaps I see contrast as much as anything as I sit here. Black branches stand in silhouette against a lightening sky. Cars rush by below me; silver, gray, maroon. Birds call out above me; silver, gray, maroon. 

Such an important city. Such human power in these houses and streets. And all the while, the sky stretches above all and is over all; unnoticed, for the most part.

The cloistered heart is a "city" sort of vision. We must learn to sing the songs of God in a land removed from Him. To sing the Magnificat even as we live the Pieta. Ours are gentle melodies in a land that has forgotten the song. Like birds calling from the treetops, like warblers who sing in the city of man, I must join the chorus.

I must sing, and I must allow God to do what He wishes with the song."


Painting: Paul Cornoyer, The Plaza After Rain

After the Fatigue

'The metaphor of the cell 

brings to mind the idea 
of a retreat

in which the soul can renew its strength 

after the fatigue of the active life, 

where it can leave aside visible things 

to think about those that are invisible, 

and where it finally finds peace, 

far from external distractions…'

J.M. Perrin OP., 

from Catherine of Siena, 

Newman Press, 1965

Painting:  Alfred Elmore, Supplication




To return to the 'Monastic Adventure in Sequence' post, click here

While Walking With Men

'Within yourself you have 
made a room... a secluded place.  
You have built it by prayer…. 
You live in the marketplace
and carry the poustinia within you.  
That is your vocation… 
The Lord is calling us 
to stand still before him 
while walking with men.' 
(Catherine de Hueck Doherty,  
Poustinia, Ave Maria Press, 1975)

'May the God who 
is all love be your 
unchanging dwelling place, 
your cell, 
and your cloister 
in the midst of the world.  
(Elizabeth of the Trinity) 







Painting: Hans Baluschek, 
believed to be in US public domain due to age


To continue reading about 'our cell,' click this line

Our Soul, the Hermit

"Whenever you pray, go to your room, close your door, and pray to your Father in private…” (Matthew 6:6)

"Brother Body is our cell, and our soul is the hermit living indoors in the cell, in order to pray to God and meditate on him.” (St. Francis of Assisi) 

"Christ is held by the mind knowing Him and the heart loving Him...  what is this room except the inner secret of your own person?  Keep this inner room clean, so that when it is pure, unstained by sin, your spiritual home may stand as a priestly temple with the Holy Spirit dwelling in it.  One who seeks and entreats Christ is never abandoned, but visited by Him frequently, for He stays always with us."  (St. Ambrose) 

"May my life be a continual prayer, a long act of love. May nothing distract me from You, neither noise nor diversions. O my Master, I would so love to live with You in silence. But what I love above all is to do Your will, and since You want me still to remain in the world, I submit with all my heart for love of You. I offer you the cell of my heart.." (Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity) 

"In the midst of all the occupations of each day, see to it that you do not become too absorbed in material things.  Keep a tight grasp of Christ's hand.  Do not panic, but look to Christ.' (St. Francis de Sales)

"Do not conform yourselves to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, so that you may judge what is God's will, what is good, pleasing and perfect."  (Romans 12:2)

Painting of man:  Maximilien Luce, in US public domain due to age 
Painting of town: Leo Gestel Gezich, in US public domain due to age


To continue reading about 'our cell,' click this line

Where is My Cell?

St. Catherine of Siena, who did not live in a monastery, “formed a cell in her own heart and there she remained continually united with God even when busiest, contemplating Him and speaking familiarly with Him.  Thus she attained to a stable, uninterrupted union with her Lord.” (Spiritual Diary, Daughters of St. Paul, 1990).
 
"I set up a little cell in my heart, where I always kept company with Jesus."  (St. Faustina) 

"Our Lord frequently told me that I should keep a secluded place for Him in my heart, where He would teach me to love Him."  (St. Margaret Mary)

"I offer You the cell of my heart; may it be Your little Bethany. Come rest there…”  (Elizabeth of the Trinity)

“Always remember… to retire at various times into the solitude of your own heart even while outwardly engaged in discussions or transactions with others.  This mental solitude cannot be violated by the many people who surround you since they are not standing around your heart but only around your body.  Your heart remains alone in the presence of God.” (St. Francis de Sales)    

 
Painting of girl:  Am Morgen, 1840, detail
Painting of Bus: George William Joy, 1895

To continue reading about 'our cell,' click this line

Their Cells

The cell is the individual room of a monk or nun.  This is where he or she prays, reads, rests and sleeps. 

"Our cells are plain, sparsely furnished mostly with donated or homemade furniture and absent of superfluities," writes a Passionist nun at In the Shadow of His Wings. "This gives them an austere beauty and a visual peace. It is the outward embodiment of the inner cell we live in while in the state of God’s abundant grace. I must admit though, sometimes I have so many books on my desk that I can’t find the desk!  I have a little prayer altar where I keep a holy image, a candle and a notebook of prayer intentions, some holy relics and a blessed palm.  We find God in everything – by Faith. We live him, breathe him, love him – by Faith. Especially in the solitude of the cell."  (the remainder of this description can be found by clicking here)

To see what morning is like in one kind of monastic cell (different from some others, in that Carthusians do not go to Chapel for morning prayer together) click on the following link:

The Cell of a Carthusian Nun

As usual, we might find ourselves asking the question:  what does this have to do with me?  After all, I am in the midst of the world, involved in family life.

This, we will look at in our next post.

Painting:  Cesare Laurenti,  in US public domain due to age
Photo by N Shuman 



To read about our 'cells' in the world, click this line

 

My Cell

"Work for souls is accomplished, for the most part, in silence.  Its efficiency does not depend upon occupation, position or popularity.  From a humble cell, hidden away in some cloistered nunnery, there radiates spiritual power which influences thousands of souls scattered over the entire world." (from Sheltering the Divine Outcast by A Religious, Peter Reilly Co., Philadelphia, 1952, p. 56)

St. Catherine of Siena, who did not live in a monastery, “formed a cell in her own heart and there she remained continually united with God even when busiest, contemplating Him and speaking familiarly with Him.  Thus she attained to a stable, uninterrupted union with her Lord.” (Spiritual Diary, Daughters of St. Paul, 1990).

"Whenever you pray, go to your room, close your door, and pray to your Father in private…” (Matthew 6:6) 

"Brother Body is our cell, and our soul is the hermit living indoors in the cell, in order to pray to God and meditate on him.” (St. Francis of Assisi) 

"I offer You the cell of my heart; may it be Your little Bethany. Come rest there…”  (Elizabeth of the Trinity)

"Our Lord frequently told me that I should keep a secluded place for Him in my heart, where He would teach me to love Him."  (St. Margaret Mary)

"I set up a little cell in my heart, where I always kept company with Jesus."  (St. Faustina)

"Within yourself you have made a room... a secluded place.  You have built it by prayer…. You live in the marketplace and carry the poustinia within you.  That is your vocation… The Lord is calling us to stand still before him while walking with men.” (Catherine de Hueck Doherty, Poustinia, Ave Maria Press, 1975)

"May the God who is all love be your unchanging dwelling place, your cell, and your cloister in the midst of the world.” (Elizabeth of the Trinity)

"Christ is held by the mind knowing Him and the heart loving Him...  what is this room except the inner secret of your own person?  Keep this inner room clean, so that when it is pure, unstained by sin, your spiritual home may stand as a priestly temple with the Holy Spirit dwelling in it.  One who seeks and entreats Christ is never abandoned, but visited by Him frequently, for He stays always with us."  (St. Ambrose)

Painting of nun:  Luigi Busi, In Contemplazione

Painting of woman in bedroom:  Moritz von Schwind, Early Morning

Painting of city street:  Arntzenius Spuistraat   

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His Chosen Sanctuary

'Great acts of love may be accomplished in the small cell of the heart...

  the heart of the true servant of God is His chosen Sanctuary, where He constantly dwells.

  We cannot always be kneeling before the Altar, so He makes His Tabernacle in our hearts.'

from Sheltering the Divine Outcast, compiled by A Religious, Peter Reilly Co., Philadelphia, 1952, pp.154-155

Painting: Charles West Cope

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Spiritual Power

"Work for souls is accomplished, for the most part, in silence.  Its efficiency does not depend upon occupation, position or popularity.  From a humble cell, hidden away in some cloistered nunnery, there radiates spiritual power which influences thousands of souls scattered over the entire world."

from Sheltering the Divine Outcast, compiled by A Religious, Peter Reilly Co., Philadelphia, 1952, p. 56

Painting: Plamondon, Soeur Saint-Alphonse

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the inner secret

I recently received an e-mail from "Joy," who wrote:  
"Who doesn't need a peaceful and holy place to go in the madness of the world today?  And there it is right within us - it could not be closer.  We just have to be made aware of it…" 

With this in mind, I was touched to come across the following quote:  "Christ is held by the mind knowing Him and the heart loving Him...  what is this room except the inner secret of your own person?  Keep this inner room clean, so that when it is pure, unstained by sin, your spiritual home may stand as a priestly temple with the Holy Spirit dwelling in it.  One who seeks and entreats Christ is never abandoned, but visited by Him frequently, for He stays always with us."  (St. Ambrose)

(photo taken at Mobile Visitation by Stephanie L.)