Being Benedictine

Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die.
Hour by hour keep careful watch over all you do,
aware that God’s gaze is upon you, wherever you may be.

Rule of St. Benedict 4:47-49

One of the gifts of a pilgrimage is those you connect with on the journey—greeting each other in the morning, offering small kindnesses, enjoying meals together, appreciating the sacredness of the sights, and sharing insights. On a recent Celtic Christianity pilgrimage to Ireland and Scotland, I knew only one person, my friend, SoulCollage® companion, and travel roommate, Sara, who I met several years ago at St. Benedict Center as a Benedictine Oblate.

Sara and I had decided to begin our pilgrimage four days earlier at the Cliffs of Moher, in the west of Ireland, and then travel by train to Dublin to catch up with the group once they arrived. Many pilgrims knew each other beforehand, so introductions in Zoom meetings and social media proved to be a helpful head-start to our shared time. Just a few days into our pilgrimage, I shared breakfast with one of the pilgrims, Mike, at a two-person table.

We ordered porridge and discussed the lengthy lines for fancy coffee from the European espresso machines, hoping for just a quick pot of black coffee. I was clearly more irritable about getting my first cup when Mike commented that he recently started taking a spiritual approach, a detachment from coffee, he said. If he gets coffee in the morning, all the better, but not getting coffee would not be a deal-breaker for his day. He would not allow the absence of coffee to interfere with his interior peace.

As I calmed down about the lack of morning caffeine, our conversation continued to a depth not often reached in such a short time. We shared that through the years our spirituality had changed, impacting how we experience life, especially how we respond viscerally as we witness racism, homophobia, injustice, and hateful behavior in our country. We shared our deepest grief about the estrangements in our family and the uncertainty of how healing might come.

Navigating long lines and crowds in the breakfast area, we finally achieved the goal of a cup of coffee.  Mike commented that people were not even looking at each other while getting food and drink. He was right. Mike’s comments remained in my heart throughout the day and I am grateful to have had such a meaningful conversation with him.

The gift of a pilgrimage “lies in the gaps of the agenda, in the conversations and relationships with others, and in the details of the day that cannot be planned or controlled. This is where the grace of God enters—sometimes it is in the form of discomfort and challenges and other times in opportunities that new insights and “aha moments” of new understanding bring.” (A Busload of Hospitality: A Benedictine Pilgrimage, Part 4, Jodi Blazek Gehr)

After breakfast, our pilgrimage group traveled to Glendalough to St. Kevin’s Monastery, a sixth-century monastic city, and then to Kildare to visit St. Brigid’s Well and Solas Bhride Centre & Hermitages, a spirituality center dedicated to St. Brigid. We had a peaceful visit to The Well, but as we pulled into the Centre’s parking lot, Mike experienced a medical episode. While making the emergency call, others provided first aid, and, finally, paramedics and an ambulance arrived. After some time, Mike was taken to the hospital, accompanied by a few of his closest friends.

While we had time at the Solas Bhride Centre, the Sisters generously offered their space for us to meet, to have moments of prayer and reflection. They served tea and cookies and welcomed us to experience the presence of Brigid throughout the center, in its garden, labyrinth, and sacred art. Celtic Christians refer to a sacred space where the distance between heaven and earth is said to collapse as a “thin place.”  Not knowing whether Mike would survive, we were enveloped in the grace of this thin place. A rainbow briefly peaked through the clouds while driving back to Dublin.

Later that afternoon, we learned that Mike had passed quickly from a heart attack.

Our pilgrimage leader, Jill, shared:

This life is temporal and eternal, steeped in the sacred.

Legend holds that Brigid was born in the doorway of a barn at dawn, at the threshold between light and dark, inside and outside, winter and spring. She has come to represent the many thresholds we have in our lives. The threshold between life and death is so very thin. Just one breath separated Mike from being with us to the next moment when he was gone. Keeping death daily before your eyes, as St. Benedict instructs, is to receive each moment with grace and to live it fully. Being present when our fellow pilgrim, Mike, passed away was holy. My prayer and hope—that the hand of St. Brigid held Mike’s at his final threshold. May his friends and family be comforted by his sudden passing. May this song be a prayer.

May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be at your back
May all the rains fall with tenderness
On the fields and forgotten tracks

May your hardened heart be woken
By the soft and distant song
Of all you left here unspoken
All the shards we keep stepping on

Take this body home
Take this body home
Call the wind, and let her know
Take this life outgrown
Take this broken soul
Call the stars, call them all
And take it high, take it far, take it home

May the dark and bitter feelings
Take the path to quiet release
May all your wounds find their healing
In the last and enduring sleep

Take it high, take it far, take it home
Take it high, take it far, take it home
Oh, take it high, take it far, take it home

St. Brigid of Kildare: Standing on the Threshold

Michael Bertram Mosleth Obituary

Mike’s Celebration of Life

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger