On past pilgrimages where I have posted blogs about our experience, it is been a complicated experience. I would write something and e-mail it to Wayne Herbert. Then I would e-mail pictures taken with my iPad or iPhone and e-mail them separately. Now, because of advances in technology, and thanks to Richard Wingfield and Holly Hudley for suggesting and coaching me, I can do this more easily - as long as I have a wi-fi connection. Consequently I am able to post more frequently. This is, of course, affected by what “free time” we have along the way. So far, not much. At least not much where writing and connectivity were possibilities.
This post will be brief. I’m writing it because I mainly wanted to share with you what has been one of the finest liturgical experiences I’ve ever had. Of course, traveling with Peter Sills insures that there will be several opportunities every day for some sort of communal worship experience - morning prayer, Eucharist, Compline, etc.
After we left Arles we departed for Castres. Castres grew up around the Benedictine Abbey founded in 647. On our first morning here, a Sunday and Bastille Day, we went to the Cathedral Saint-Benoit where we attended mass. As we gathered the organist was rehearsing and it was magnificent. A huge organ in a huge space that is centuries old. Amidst the wonderful organ pieces we heard the tune “Happy Birthday.” Only after mass did we learn that the priest who celebrated the mass and who gave the sermon was 82 years old this very day. For me, encouraging.
The attendance at mass was good and I was impressed by the number of families and young people in attendance. The priest’s sermon, I found out later, was based on the parable of the “Good Samaritan.” I don’t speak or understand French but was told by those who do that, in essence, the priest said, “Don’t even try to be a ‘Good Samaritan.’ By very definition you can’t. The minute you try, you step out of the story. Best, to let the Good Samaritan ‘love you’ by teaching you what you can learn from this parable about allowing everyone to be neighbor to you.” I had a professor in seminary who taught that there were three types of sermons: a sermon, a good sermon and a damn good sermon. This one was in the category of being “a damn good sermon.”
After mass we explored the city, even taking a boat ride in this place that is known as “the Venice of France.”
After enjoying the various “pilgrim sites” here we went to Dourgne. This is a stop, an ancient one also, on the Via Tolosana. We went to the monastery of Saint-Benoit d’En-Calcat. On the grounds there is an Abbey and we were to join the monks for Vespers.
Again my memories from previous trips did not prepare me for what we were about to experience.
After arriving we went into a room under the Library where we were shown a documentary about this place and the monks who live here. Peter told us that there is an active and working community of around fifty monks. The video showed us who they were and that they did.
A monastery is a community of people who have taken vows to live in community together. In this case these Benedictine monks support themselves and their community in a variety of ways. An Abbey is the place of worship, usually a church, where these religious people, as well as people from the surrounding community, gather for worship.
After exploring the Library and what of the grounds we were permitted to enter, we went into the Abbey for Vespers.
The Abbey where the monks sang vespers
We sat in silence and watched as, one by one, the robed monks entered the choir stalls on either side of the chancel. Again, from prior experience, I expected a half dozen and for these to be older men. Eventually, forty of them entered, mostly men under fifty and younger.
I could not take a photograph while the service was in progress. Doesn’t matter. No photo could have done it justice. It is like trying to take a picture of the Grand Canyon.
The choir was virtually filled with monks. There was an organ in the choir just for this purpose. The Abbey was fairly filled with worshippers from, I assume, the surrounding area. Again, I didn’t understand a word of what was sung - virtually nothing was spoken. But the sound was exquisite. The respectful movements of standing, giving reverence, silence for the sake of silence, the felt meaning and more moved me as much as any liturgical experience I have had in ages. My fellow pilgrims agreed. We moved out of the Abbey in silence and many said what I felt and experienced, “I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life.” Indeed.
So far this has been the single most powerful moment on the Pilgrimage. No words can convey it. I hope I’ve given you a hint of it. This Abbey and a community of religious have been here to pray for a support those making the Pilgrimage to Santiago. That history was palpable here. I am glad for it, to know about it, to be a part of it in some small way and to convey it to you.