from the

General Secretary NEVILLE CALLAM

Fresh Offerings from Heaven

It was a long-held dream. I had visited and worshipped with monks and nuns at a number of monasteries ranging from the Fontgombault Abbey in Berry, France, to the Community of Grandchamp in Areuse, Switzerland. But I had never gone to Taizé, that place of peace in the Burgundy region of France. In my first introduction to the meaning of monastic life I found

much that I didn’t appreciate. Later, I was to discover that my teacher had been an unenlightened guide. Immersing myself in works by the desert fathers, I found much

that fed my spirit. Then, in 1995, when I visited the remains of what was once the largest church building in the world at Mt. Simeon, outside Aleppo, Syria, I realized there was even more to gain from deep reflection on the meaning of monastic life. It was there at Mt. Simeon, as I stood beside the pillar said to have been used by Simeon Stylites – whom I’d once considered a fool – that I sensed once again that, in the story of monastic life, there is more than the person engaging in a casual search will find. So, at long last, I was accompanying a friend on the road from

Geneva to Taizé. On the journey, we paused in Cluny, France, where we were reminded that a monastery is not quite the same place as heaven is expected to be. Monasteries also have their sad side. The once grand monastery of Cluny is no longer a thriving place. In fact, it is a metaphor for the consequences of the sad excesses to which a monastery can fall prey. Arriving in Taizé, the rolling hillside with its lush green

vegetation breathed calm and spewed peace. What lay in store for the visitor I could not fully predict – except the opportunity to join with the community in singing songs I had known and loved for decades.

During the four days I spent at Taizé, we retraced steps in the history of perhaps the best known monastery in Western Europe. The journey took us from the time when Roger Shütz (Brother Roger) arrived from Switzerland and served the

frightened

foreigners hiding from Nazi barbarity in an unoccupied region of France, to the contemporary period when Taizé continues to offer priceless service to young people in Europe and across the world. While in Taizé, I remembered the Taizé monk Max Thurian, whose consuming interest in plumbing the depth of the meaning of the eucharistic liturgy had once caught my attention and whose significant contribution helped shape both the Eucharist section of the celebrated 1982 ecumenical text, Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry and the so-called Lima Liturgy. Today, just months after that visit to Taizé, I remember the encounters with Brother Alois – his gentle voice generously conveying helpful insights emanating from a mind that has been nourished by deep contemplation of the sacred Scriptures of the church.

I remember Brother Matthew and the many women who

volunteer their time at Taize, whose kindness opened the door of a hospitable community that wants visitors to feel welcome and to find the space for whatever spiritual benefit they are searching. I remember Brother John who put his keen mind to good use

4 BAPTIST WORLD MAGAZINE

in the search for fresh discoveries from God’s word and whose linguistic dexterity aided his communication of the story of Jesus to a massively multicultural gathering of eager listeners. I remember the young people streaming into the place of worship three times each day, arriving on time, passionately joining in, singing simple and straightforward lyrics that stir sweetness in the human soul and draw us into communion with the divine one. I remember the large gathering of worshippers sitting on the lawn with their thoughts seemingly focused on the one who is the object of worship. They yearned for the lover of our souls. I remember the service of Holy Communion where community participants who did not necessarily know each other particularly well sealed their lips from too much questioning and opened their hearts to the presence of Christ. The structure of the liturgy bore much in common with the Lima Liturgy and is worthy of careful analysis in a world where the unsuccessful scramble for consensus robs the church of the joy of common participation in what is the crowning joy of Eucharistic worship – or to put it differently, the joy of sharing in Holy Communion. But what do I remember the most? It is the times of stillness, the moments of silence that drew one into a mysterious place of deep encounter where the allurements of the world lose their attractiveness and the pull of vain pleasure loses its power. Was it not Mother Teresa who said, “in the silence of the heart God speaks. If you face God in prayer and silence, God will speak to you.”

the centenary of the birth of the founder of the monastery, the 75th

I visited Taize in August 2015 when the monks were celebrating year of the monastery’s life, and the 10th

anniversary of the

passing of their founding abbot who met a violent death while at worship in the chapel at Taizé. At the center of the remembrance of Brother Roger was the celebration of a life of courageous faithfulness and joyful service. This was a remembrance that had no place for tears, except perhaps tears of joy. Sometimes we have to leave familiar and accustomed places to allow the door of our heart to swing wide open to the fresh offerings that heaven sends to the soul – such offerings that we will need during this new year in which the persecution of people of religious faith is likely to continue.