Monastery Visit

Monasteries are pretty normal places. Discussions of monasteries never really came up on the radar for most of my life. Nuns were strange people who wore strange head dresses, flew around on television shows, and prayed all day. Or maybe worked as teachers or nurses. (The name 'monastery' applies to homes for both monks and nuns in the Orthodox church. I like it - there function is the same after all.)

I've heard it told that "Nuns don't do any real work. They just pray all day." Which to me sounds like the hardest work of all.

Yesterday we went to visit a little monastery, it's resident committed to "do what she has to do." It's a normal inner suburban house, the yard full of fruit trees; fig, persimmon, quince, and self sown rocket. Except that the lounge room is a library of books, the hall is lined with little tables covered in brochures about missionaries and theological colleges, there's a men's guest room in the backyard and the garage is a chapel, complete with multiple copies of prayer and service books.

In all the talk of urban monasteries and new monasticism there always seems to be the problem of finding the right building with the most land. Perhaps it's better to start where you are. Although all the more difficult to pray by yourself than with others.

We had the great privilege of sitting around the table in the kitchen to share a meal, while our host buzzed around doing all the things you have to do when you have guests. I felt that it should have been us doing the buzzing, while our host sat down, but this is of course very difficult in someone else's home. We talked about where to find the cheapest supermarkets, and neighbours who help feed the dogs, normal things, except for the brief mention of last night's guest who had required police and ambulance to attend, which reminded me that there was some important God-work going on here.

And then, the great gift for us, we got to go outside and do some gardening. We trimmed vines, pruned bushes and pulled weeds. The kids ran around busy as beavers, enjoying being helpful and useful and part of the 'real work'. They pruned and swept and pulled and discovered, collecting a little bag of flowers and fruit and herbs to bring home.

It was fabulous, and we felt good. Then together we prayed the evening prayers. Although the kids hung upside down off the chairs at the back (what is it with my kids being unable to just sit upright) they did pray and sing along. Perhaps praying together was the most helpful thing for Sister.