I was shocked and deeply saddened! A week ago today, the Monday of Holy Week, I first read the news that St. Benedict’s Monastery in Snowmass, Colorado was closing. And this only five years after the death of Fr. Thomas Keating, OSB. He was the sage teacher and abbot who had brought the monastery into the light of public awareness and holy pilgrimage. (Perhaps this was more of a curse than a blessing for the Trappist vocation?) Certainly Keating had his finger on the pulsing hunger of many spiritual seekers for a deeper understanding and experience of the Christian contemplative tradition. Hundreds, if not thousands, have flocked to the monastery over the past 30 years to learn from the master, or one of his brothers, the practice of centering prayer, to rest with God in retreat and to soak in the Silence that spoke so loudly to so many.

I was very surprised by the intensity of my reaction; I felt alarmed and somehow cut adrift. I have always envisioned a holy pilgrimage of my own to that monastery–in my imagination it was like the Mecca of all things ‘centering-prayer!’ Even some of my directees have travelled there, and more than once. It didn’t take very long that day to recognize the ‘clinging’ in me! If not to the building itself, which I had never seen in person, then perhaps to the notion of a central wellspring of contemplative wisdom? The teacher was gone, and now the place he called his earthly home was about to be gone too. I had met Fr. Keating twice and have read most of his books. I have thought of him as a spiritual mentor for over 25 years; I know he would not fuss over this closure. With a clear and present knowing he would say, “Let this go too, ever-so-gently.”

Now Holy Week has unfolded, Jesus has let go of his life for the sake of Love, and Mary Magdalene is asked, “Woman, why do you weep?” As she reached out for the one she loved, Jesus said to her, “Do not cling s to me [..].” In my younger years these words sounded somewhat harsh, almost scolding. I had obviously missed the tenderness with which he calls her by name, “Mary!” No need to cling, Mary; you have got it already, it all dwells within you, around you. Your kenosis is complete. It’s all one.

Thankfully grace keeps shaking me to wake up! I have slowly learned that when I cease to cling to everything, God can act. Yet often I cling still, without necessarily knowing to what. It’s a long journey; but I am encouraged that God continues to call me by name. Even my vows sang anew to me this week: keep listening (obedience), keep loving (chastity) and keep letting go (poverty)… ever-so-gently.