Spring Things

It's a little late in the season, true, but better la— oh, you know.

 

Spring read:  The Ear of the Heart: An Actress' Journey from Hollywood to Holy Vows. This is the life story of Mother Dolores Hart, Prioress of the Abbey of Regina Laudis in Bethlehem, Connecticut, who cut short a successful career in film to enter cloistered religious life. I think it's very appropriate for spring, as it is all about dying to an old life and beginning a new and better one. I've only just started it, but I can say that so far it is engrossing, moving, entertaining, funny, surprising, and well written. Co-authored with her long-time friend, Richard DeNeut, with plenty of photographs.

 

Spring watch:  I Capture the Castle (2003), starring Romola Garai, is a charming and fairly faithful adaptation of Dodie Smith's much-beloved novel of the same name, and the story—coming of age, first love—is very spring-appropriate, despite the decaying castle and the blocked writer/father (brilliantly played by Bill Nighy). Return to Me (2000), with Minnie Driver and David Duchovny, is a romantic comedy with a unique premise: Minnie plays a heart transplant recipient whose new heart was acquired from David Duchovny's character's dead wife (got that?). Carroll O'Conner (of All in the Family  fame) is wonderful as Minnie's grandfather, and his poker-playing/bowling cronies are so endearingly quirky. This is one of my favorite go-to films if I'm in the mood for something really sweet, PG, and tear-jerking. And, since spring is the season when God's creatures look for mates, Emma, Jane Austen's irrepressible matchmaker, is a must. For me, the only filmed version worth watching is ITV's 1996 version with Kate Beckinsale. I saw Gwenyth Paltrow's a few times, and the most recent BBC one with Romola Garai once, and that was quite enough  for me. Blech. (If you want a more detailed account than "blech," you can read my Amazon review for the BBC version here, on my reviews page—scroll down a bit—where you can also find my positive review of the ITV version.)

 

Spring listen: I was a pianist, after all, so naturally I'd turn to piano repertoire; namely, Mozart's early piano sonatas and concertos. Specifically, his Concerto in E-flat, No. 9 ("Jeunehomme"—literally, "young man"). Here is the first movement in an incandescent performance by that exquisite Mozartean, Mitsuko Uchida, with Jeffrey Tate conducting the Mozarteum Orchestra.



At the Abbey of Regina Laudis, Part Four

Continuing with my journal account:


     30 January 2007    This morning I helped Sr. Esther clean the floor of the big chapel, then at 12.30 I had my second parlor visit with Mother Noella. We had a long, rather intense talk, mostly about my music and submission. She told me that when Mother Dolores entered, for years she was not allowed to have anything to do with acting or anything related to it, not even to coach the readers at Mass.
     "Can you imagine what that was like for her?" she said. "Having to listen to all that bad reading and going crazy?"
     Oh, yes, I thought, I can not only imagine; I went through the very same thing with the singing at the Monastery of the Infant Jesus.
     "But," Mother continued, "she submitted. And she did get to coach the readers eventually."
     This is the thing I'd love to talk to Mother Dolores about. It was the main element of her influence on my decision to try my vocation.
     At 3.00 I met with Sr. Margaret Georgina, who is in charge of all the plants. We transported a lot of things from the big chapel to the compost heap, to the greenhouses (there are three), and back to the chapel in an old rattletrap Ford truck. I like her a lot; she has a nice, gentle sense of humor and is easy to talk to.
     I had a dream night before last. Well, not really a dream, I don't think, or if it was I don't remember any of it except for one thing: I came to the conclusion that I don't have a vocation, that I don't really want to enter the abbey. I can't help being a bit frightened by it, because I have had several prophetic dreams in the past. But I think it has more to do with this odd phase I'm going through -- I've been so secular since I left the monastery; lately I've not been praying the Office or praying much at all, comparatively, which is sad and really quite awful. I keep remembering the great St. Teresa of Avila and those years when she gave up prayer altogether and how harmful it was to her soul. I can't really describe it -- it's as if I feel I have to take a vacation from the intense life I had been living for over two years, as if I need to take a step backward after plunging head first into a life of 24/7 prayer and penance. If one has been living in Germany, one can't help feeling a sort of glee at one's first American meal in over two years. You want to savor it.
     I've read a few nun memoirs in which the young woman, before entering, immerses herself even deeper in her secular life -- going out with friends, partying, even dating. It didn't mean she didn't really have a vocation. In fact, all of these young women were told by their novice mistresses that that's healthy -- a sort of "get it all out of your system" thing.
     1 February 2007    Yesterday afternoon I went to the dairy with Sr. Emmanuelle. Yesterday was the weekly butter making time. Very little to do, just keep an eye on the cream and stop the beater at the crucial moment when the butter gathers and separates from the whey, which, after waiting a good amount of time through the whipped cream, double cream, and clotted cream stages, happens in a matter of mere seconds.
     Then we squeezed the whey out of the butter, washed the butter, beat it again briefly to soften, then spooned it into plastic containers to be consumed by the community. We also filled some bottles with their fresh, non-homogenized milk taken from their very pretty black-and-white cows.
     Who'da thunk I'd ever want to live on a farm?
     P. M.    This morning after Mass I had my last parlor talk with Mother Noella the Cheese Nun. She hadn't realized that I was leaving before dawn tomorow; she was going to arrange a meeting for me with Lady Abbess and Mother Prioress (Mother Dolores). Rats! It'll have to wait till my next visit, in April.
     The abbey is a marvelous place; the sisters I met were all lovely, each in her own way; and though I've not been here long, I can discern that their day to day life, from the little experience I have had of it, is very active and interesting and certainly varied. There is much to delight the senses, even in winter; endless opportunities to witness the innumerable glories of God's creation, from plants and butter to sheep and sunsets. There are animals enough to satisfy the most ardent animal lover and good food to satisfy the gourmand. And such artistic, talented, vibrant, intelligent women.
     As to their spirituality, it sems to be no-nonsense and down-to-earth. I saw no starry-eyed mysticism, no sickly sweetness, no gloomy martyrdom. They go about their duties prayerfully and, from what I could tell, cheerfully. They don't make a huge deal about silence, fasting, or maintaining the hierarchal system of novitiate and professed: a novice may speak to a professed sister without waiting to be addressed first or asking permission. They advocate prudence rather than asceticism. Their relationship with the lay community is strong, a true give and take. Yet their devotion to the Ancient Observation regarding the liturgy, chant, manual labor, and full habit keeps the monastic way not just alive but thriving.
     I very much look forward to my return visit in April.

At the Abbey of Regina Laudis, Part Two

Continuing from my journal:


     28 January 2007   When I arrived last night, I met the three other guests -- two friends from New York and a resident of Bridgeport, all very nice; they're just here for the weekend and leaving this afternoon. Then there's M. the intern, and a young woman I've yet to meet who is discerning a vocation to this abbey.
     This morning began with Mass (for us, that is; we skipped Lauds). There are two places of worship at the abbey: the old monastery chapel, whch is smaller, darker, and "womb-like," to quote Sr. Emmanuelle; then there's the large new public chapel on the hill, Jesu Fili Mariae, where Mass is held and also where the nuns pray Vespers. The other hours of the Office are prayed in the old chapel.
     The two women from New York decided to drive up to Mass. I opted to walk up the hill with L., the visitor from Bridgeport. The nuns tell guests, don't walk up the hill if you think you're not in great shape, which I am not, but I managed. It is a fairly steep climb on a tortuous, rough ribbon of path through the woods, and I sweated like a pig despite the crisp coolness of the morning.
     The church is almost overwhelming in its open airiness (or airy openness; both are accurate), knotted wood surrounding you on all sides, an incredibly high, vaulted ceiling, and what I call "pin drop" acoustics. The chapel at the Monastery of the Infant Jesus is "L" shaped, the public sitting in one leg of the L and the nuns in the other, with the sanctuary in the corner; here at the abbey, the Jesu Fili Mariae chapel is oblong, the public sitting in the back half, the nuns at the front, and the sanctuary in the middle. Between the sanctuary and the nuns' section (which is called the "choir" in every monastery chapel) there is a high grille that has a door on either side, near the wall, and a window in the center through which the nuns receive Communion. At the start of Mass this morning, Sunday, the nuns processed in two lines from the two enclosure doors in the choir, through the grille doors into the public section, met at the back of the chapel, then, two by two, came up the center aisle and re-entered the choir through the grille door on house right (I still think in theatrical terms). They passed right in front of me, and I looked eagerly for Mother Dolores Hart. She was near the end of the line with Lady Abbess, wearing a jaunty black knit cap over her veil. She is taller than I expected, a bit taller than me. The abbatial chair and the chairs of the prioress and subprioress face the congregation, "upstage center," and the nuns are of course split on either side of them and facing each other.
     I was surprised that some of the nuns, including Lady Abbess and Mother Dolores, came out to greet the congregants. I screwed up the courage to approach Mother. She was very sweet, and promised to pray for Dad; I told her that he, like herself, suffers from neuropathy. Her blue topaz eyes are enormous and penetrating, but not uncomfortably so, and her speech is rather halting and measured. We only spoke briefly -- I didn't want to appear over-eager, but I did tell her that she played an important part in my discernment. I hope I get to talk to her again.
     At 11:00, I had a parlor visit with Mother Noella, "The Cheese Nun," so called because she is one of the world's leading authorities on artisinal cheese-making (there was a PBS show about her which is available on DVD ). It seems that all guests, whether discerning a vocation or not, are assigned a sister with whom to speak privately. (I should explain that, in the Benedictine order, nuns are called "Sister" until they take solemn vows, after which they are called "Mother," whether or not they hold office. The Abbess is "Lady Abbess," not "Mother Abbess.") Mother Noella and I had a very nice talk; she told me a lot about Benedictine spirituality, the charism of this particular community, and their formation process. As per Benedictine tradition, they work the land and live mostly on its yield; they place great emphasis on hospitality, welcoming guests throughout the year, though they do not hold formal retreats; they have a very popular internship program, in which one can learn about any aspect of Benedictine life, from farming to crafts to liturgical music and chant, while living on the abbey grounds for as long as one year. As for the formation process of a Benedictine nun, it is a very long one, longer than any other order except possibly the Carthusians. It can take nine years or even longer to reach solemn vows. Just entering as a postulant is much more difficult here than, say, at the Monastery of the Infant Jesus. A woman aspiring to enter must visit the abbey many times, not just once or twice, then become a long-term guest for some months, living in the guest house, while the community gets to know her slowly. She must prove, by her persistence, that she truly desires "to try her vocation as a Benedictine."
     What I love about this community is that they emphasize development of the whole person through her unique gifts and interests; however, they have been criticized for it. I'm sure many would also look askance at the way they acknowledge and even tolerate ill temper, jealousies, resentments, etc. -- "tolerate" in the sense that they don't try to negate these very real and human traits. They don't believe in the band-aid approach of "say you're sorry; it means you care." (Whenever Sr. Maria Cabrini in Lufkin said that to me, I would reply, "But I'm not sorry, and I won't be a hyprocrite. I'll say it when I mean it." She was at first confounded by this, but later told me that my honesty was refreshing!)


To be continued. . . .

The Abbey of Regina Laudis' website: www.abbeyofreginalaudis.com
The Cheese Nun: http://www.amazon.com/Cheese-Nun-Sister-Noella-Marcellino/dp/B000FGG62K/ref=sr_1_1?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1318256070&sr=1-1

At the Abbey of Regina Laudis, Part One

     Regina Laudis in Bethlehem, Connecticut is probably the most well-known Benedictine community of women in the country. Their three CDs of liturgical chant are very popular, as are their artisan cheeses and the recent biography of its foundress and first abbess, Mother Benedict Duss. The Hollywood film Come to the Stable, starring Loretta Young and Celeste Holm, is loosely based on the story of Regina Laudis' founding, though a children's hospital is substituted for the abbey. But perhaps the primary reason for the abbey's notoriety is its current prioress (second in command to the abbess), Mother Dolores Hart, who enjoyed a successful Hollywood career before entering religious life, starring in two films with Elvis Presley (Loving You and King Creole) as well as the beach classic Where the Boys Are and Francis of Assisi, in which she portrayed St. Clare, among others. Her sudden, unheralded renouncement of the glamour of Hollywood for the austerity of the religious life caused a great stir in the film community, and to this day Mother Dolores is featured quite often in the press, as much for her past career as for her present advocacy of neuropathy research (she herself suffers from the infirmity).
     I first heard of the abbey when I saw a segment about Mother Dolores on 20/20 in 2002. Upon doing further research, I discovered their commitment to keeping alive the Gregorian Chant and their dedication to singing it well, even bringing in the late Dr. Theodore Marier to train them regularly in the Solemnes method. They also sing everything in Latin and wear the full habit; the abbey is on a 365-acre farm on which the sisters raise sheep and cows. All of these things appealed to me greatly. In the end, however, I decided against a community that was so musically oriented, as I wanted to "purge" the overly meticulous, too-highly-disciplined musician out of myself.
     When, after over two years in the Monastery of the Infant Jesus, my prioress advised me to try the Benedictines, and specifically the Abbey of Regina Laudis, I took it as a sign that perhaps it was time to bring Leticia the Musician forth again. Perhaps she was sufficiently mellowed. So when I returned home to San Antonio I wrote the abbey to arrange a visit.
     The following is from my journal:

     28 January 2007, Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas   I arrived at the abbey around 7 last evening, my flight out of Detroit having been delayed. I had to take a taxi from Southbury, and my driver and I had a very hard time finding what the abbey calls its front door -- you actually have to go through a large, glass-enclosed greenhouse to get to the actual door. I was fortunate that a young man met me as I hesitated outside the greenhouse -- turns out he's been at the abbey since last April, doing a year's internship in land husbandry. He led me through the greenhouse and into the tiny entry and rang the bell. He had to pick up a supper basket, which was passed to him through a small turn below the grille.
     Presently, Sr. Emmanuelle, the guest secretary and the one I'd been communicating with, came to meet me. She took me to the nearby St. Gregory guest house, but left me outside the door, as she was forbidden to go into the house in the evening. I was instructed to speak to M., a young intern, which I did; she told me there was a supper basket waiting for me in the kitchen, then showed me to my room upstairs.
     The St. Gregory is an 18th-century three-story farmhouse complete with warped, creaking wood floors, a dark narrow creaky stair with a very low banister (shorter people in the 18th century), and metal latches on all doors and cabinets instead of modern knobs. Drop latches -- it took me a while to figure that out; I thought they were the sliding kind at first, silly modern me.
     Most of the furniture is very old; lots of dark wood, lots of wobbly legs, rickety backs, etc. The dining table, which can seat four normal-sized people or six very skinny ones, consists of 5 wide planks atop traditional X legs; no nails, just pegs holding it together. The adjacent living room, a perfect cozy size, boasts a large, simple fireplace with wooden mantle, plaster ceilings with the original dark wood beams, creaky wood floor, a '70s harvest gold 3-seater sofa that swallows you when you sit, a pair of low-backed armchairs with tattered floral upholstery, old chairs, occasional tables, and several table lamps (the ceiling is not wired). There are many radiators throughout the house to make it surprisingly warm -- almost too warm -- modern plumbing and appliances, and just enough food for breakfast (dinner and supper are provided in the women guests' refectory).
     My room, the St. Catherine, runs the depth of the house above the living room. There are four beds, all on casters, all without headboards, dressed in quilts and the flattest pillows I've ever seen, but the beds are not the monastic, wooden-slab-with-six-inch-pad type. They are ascetic, however, comfort-wise. There is a fireplace, which I think is non-working, four windows, two antique bureaus, a small square writing table with terribly uneven legs, and a couple of straight-backed wooden chairs.

     To be continued. . . .