St. Luke’s Gospel about the lost sheep that we have just heard makes sense for the Feast of the Sacred Heart.

Why is there more joy in heaven for a single sinner who is converted that for the ninety-nine that do not need conversion? As if the lost sheep or the sinner were worth more than the other. Here, we touch the mystery of love that puts an infinite price on all, but also on each one of us. Since love is inexhaustible it may be shared without losing its substance; the opposite of love is not hatred but jealousy, which makes one believe that love shared with others means loss.

Unfortunately, twisted jealousy is frequent: the Pharisees and doctors of the law who do not accept that Jesus is eating with publicans and sinners, or who simply do not tolerate that Jesus eats with any one other than themselves. It exists everywhere, and do not let us say too quickly that we do not have our share of it.

The Feast of the Sacred Heart teaches us to love in a human way by contemplating the way God loves us. How is that?

In the spiritual tradition we often speak about the Incarnation as if God, places himself on our human, sensible level, so that we may return to him by leaving the level where we are, for without God’s coming, we should not be able to do it. There is a kind of exchange between the divine and the human: God is made man so that we may become God.

But the Gospel invites us to go even further: if we can become like God, it is because God is like us, and by observing how God acts, we may learn how we should be.

Jesus reveals the Father in his human way of being, and the Father sets an infinite price on each one to the point of leaving everything to seek and find the one who is lost. That is what we ourselves must learn in order to exist, or, to put it in another way, to be delivered from jealousy in order to be plunged into that love that gives the other his or her fullest price.

on the road

When we hear Luke’s story tonight of Jesus who appears to the disciples on their way to Emmaus, we are faced with a particular manifestation of the Risen Christ. We are no longer at the empty tomb with the angels who tell the women that he is no longer there; we are on the road. And that road, if we follow it, may lead us to Munkeby, to Finland and even to Burgundy (with tonight’s members of the congregation). But how will we recognize the companion who is able to reveal the meaning of what we are living by explaining the Scriptures for us? For we are close to those two disciples who are sometimes riddled with doubt, disappointment, or meaninglessness.

About the resurrection: there is difficulty, but also luck. Difficulty, for it is not a palpable, spectacular event. We have to rely on remote witnesses, that way it is easy to doubt the whole story. But also luck, since we know that the same remote witnesses must have worked hard to assimilate what they saw and heard to learn to recognize the Risen Christ: In that respect we are close. This was particularly what happened to the disciples on their way to Emmaus: they did not recognize him until after the rereading of the Scriptures and the breaking of the bread that gave meaning to all that had happened: that Jesus’ death, no matter how terrible, has become the source of life, that the meaning of history leads us to this life, and that this new life is definitive, for death can no longer control it.

Humanity’s long aspiration toward a life which death no longer can control, toward a life that is no longer threatened, is realized in the particular story of the man Jesus, a story which is both strong and weak: Weak, because it is about a sign in the past whose manifestation is difficult to grasp, but strong, for this event completes our waiting: it is the perfect fulfillment of what was announced.

If we have got the grace to believe in the resurrection of Jesus, it is up to us, here and now, to let it be manifested in our lives with its strength and its weakness. It is weak, for it does not seem to have actually changed the course of events in the world, but the key that it offers us to open our mortal lives to a life where death no longer is in control, is a radical change to our way of looking at life. It is enough that it has happened once in the history of humanity, because nothing is the way it used to be any longer.

On Saturday, 13 March 2010, our friends Madeleine and Alan brought us a relic of Saint Robert of Molesmes in a beautiful reliquary shaped like a lantern with porthole glass on all four sides. There is a story behind this event: in 2008 the Christian community of Molesmes, on the occasion of the transfer of the relics of Saint Robert, wanted to offer a relic to Cîteaux. The Father Abbot thought immediately that this relic was to be for Munkeby. Thus, members of our small community receive it in connection ith the celebration of the translation at Molesmes.

The cult of relics has lost its place in a Lutheran country. Don’t forget that one of the fruits of the Reformation in this region was to make the exact location of the grave of Saint Olav at Nidaros disappear forever. Even so, our neighbors, as we have so often experienced here, show  curiosity, respect and openness to a different tradition, when unexpected events like this happen.

How to explain the meaning of relics in the context of faith? The prophet Ezechiel may help us here: the dry bones that he contemplates in a valley, begin to come to life again, to be covered in flesh. The flesh is animated by the divine breath: the holiness of the Spirit sanctifies it to such an extent that it is called to rise again. That is what popular devotion understands instinctively when it venerates the relics of the saints, without any magic attached. Each one of us is called to let our body be sanctified by the spirit so that it becomes the temple, for God himself has become “flesh of our flesh”, “bone of our bone”, according to the words of the Bible.

Robert is not just anybody; he belongs to the origins of Cîteaux by the fact that he lays all his authority behind the foundation of the New Monastery, and takes part in it with the small group of monk-founders. But history is never easy: a year after his arrival, he returns to Molesmes with some of the monks. The “Exordium parvum”, the primitive text of Cîteaux, leaves a certain ambiguity toward him. It speaks of his “habitual inconstancy”: is there a trace of a feeling of abandonment there?

What can we, at Munkeby, deduct from his experience? In the representation of the founders of Cîteaux, he keeps the Rule of Saint Benedict alongside Alberic and Stephen. Robert’s intuition was that once the Rule were restored, that would be sufficient to preserve an authentic monastic life. That is still true for us today. Robert’s instability may be interpreted as a weakness, but also as a gift, a disposition to let oneself be guided along unexpected ways, renouncing his plans and visions. The adventure of Munkeby invites us to that as well. In our oratory, the discrete presence of Saint Robert grounds us in this place and ties our adventure to that other one that led Robert to Cîteaux at the end of the eleventh century. The monks of Munkeby, whose remains are buried in the soil of Trondelag, knew, like us what they owed to Robert; thus we feel closer to them.

If Jesus is tempted in the desert, we must except to be that as well, and not try and escape from the temptation, for we are not above the Master. Our temptations as monks in Norway are no doubt, with a few exceptions, the same as everybody else’s: temptation to be discouraged when confronted with tasks that seem too heavy, temptation to go back like the Hebrews in the desert, to avoid staying in a this place where there is nothing interesting, temptation to fill our immediate needs without waiting, to rest, to seek distractions: “tell these stones to turn into loaves”.

Jesus’ clear answers confound us, they hit their goal immediately and undo the adversary. The tempter is almost laughable, his snares seem crude next to Jesus’ superiority. So where is Jesus’ secret? We should like to know, in order to resist temptations as easily as he does. Jesus’ truth fills him completely, in obedience to his Father. And leads him all the way to the cross, to the Hour when the tempter returns and the battle will be heavier. Nothing can make him deviate from this truth, his heart, his conscience are not divided but unified. Then the temptation is like an arrow that breaks on a rock. Our Christian intention of following Christ, ought to regain that purity during this period of Lent, then the temptation will disintegrate by itself.

That answer is pretty, no doubt, but we are not Jesus, and our heart remains divided and weak. In our monastic situation, where we follow Jesus in the wasteland of the North, we are confronted with this paradox: the wasteland is the place where the temptation is most virulent, we are unprotected, like in these glacial winds that are blowing just now. He who retreats into the wasteland is exposed because there are no hiding places where one may avoid the battle. But at the same time, the desert is the place where God gives manna freely, as sufficient nourishment. Thus, he who is not equipped will not give up, and keeps on walking. This nourishment is essentially the Word of God. It revives our faith and renews our confidence, for it is testimony that God will not abandon his people. It revives our love by recalling the over-abundant generosity of our God. Lord, what should we fear? For you are the Strong one who arewith us in the combat of the desert, and it is good for us to be exposed like that, for we have no other rock than you to give us shelter.

It is a new experience for us to celebrate the feast of our Founding Fathers so far from Citeaux. Over the years, while we were living in the place of the original foundation, we were able to evoke their memory and sometimes even sense their palpable presence. At Munkeby we sometimes feel exiled, far from our holy fonders and far from Citeaux, the name that resonates in a special way among those who feel themselves Cistercian.

But looking at it more closely we have a particular affinity with our Founding Fathers. In the beginning, before the name of Citeaux was in common use, one spoke about the New Monastery. And, small as we are – we are only a pre-foundation – we are also a new monastery. Although our present living quarters are going to be the guesthouse later, we pray in the oratory there, meditate on the Word in our scriptorium, and work in our cheese factory, just like in a monastery. Another affinity is that we also are founders, although on a small scale, and that the work of God, which is in its early beginning here, is blessed, just as the work of our Founding Fathers was blessed.

But these are external factors: how do we relive the experience of our Founding Fathers in a particular way? We are in a period of gestation, that strange time when the future is unknown; we believe in the future and the promise, but do not yet know how things will be: we are in the desert. That period was long and difficult for our Fathers in Citeaux, until the explosion-expansion period that followed the arrival of Saint Bernard and his friends. That rough period meant abandonment, detachment and poverty. We know how much our Fathers sought poverty, and how they were able to connect the poverty of their history with that of Christ. Of course, we do not live in material insecurity, but still, at certain moments, since there are only four of us here, we feel that we must tackle a lot of different situations, find good solutions, make sure that we do not go astray. That is when the Rule (of Saint Benedict) becomes a guide for us, as it was for our Fathers who wanted to restore it in its integrity; there is need of a leap of confidence and trust in God, just as it was for the Israelites in the desert. And it is true that quite often answers are found, help is given, and it leaves us amazed.

May we be able to walk in the footsteps of Robert, Alberic and Stephen, since we have been called to revive something of their appeal.

The salvation plan eternally willed by God, as given by St Paul in his letter to the Ephesians, makes the mystery of the Immaculate Conception more accessible.  Rather than speaking of Mary’s “privilege” making her “exceptional,” he speaks of her anticipating in her being that which God wills that we become in our humanity.  Both the virginity of Mary in her maternity and her bodily Assumption can be seen in the same sense.  Mary enters the new creation, passing over the border from where John the Baptist or Precursor partakes of the old.  Mary is the new Eve, named such by St Irenaeus together with Christ as the new Adam.

Why this emphasis on Mary when everything is already given us through Christ in his humanity?  It seems to me the answer lies in the closeness of Mary’s humanity with our own.  The humanity that is hers anticipates a new humanity that becomes something close and accessible.  It is this that I love to contemplate in this reproduction behind me in the chapel.  We first see a woman holding a child on her knees.  Unlike the child, she has no halo; she is an ordinary woman.  And yet this ordinary woman is indeed the Immaculate, the Blessed as our Orthodox brothers like to say, the icon of our fulfilled humanity. Mary is the Christ-bearer, the One who carries Christ.

We are here! Living in our new house. We already feel at home and we love being here. Our large windows open onto the beauty of the nature that surrounds us. Forest covered hills on one side, a view of distant mountains on the other. An adjacent pasture with cows, curiously discovering their strange new neighbors. The design of the house is efficient, with slanted ceilings providing welcome spaciousness. The large bay window behind the altar in our small oratory opens onto greenery. The altar, the lectern, an icon and the tabernacle are already in place. A beautiful 14th century Catalan cross, a gift from Citeaux, has still to find its best placement. We marvel at our beautiful prayer space in place from the very beginning.

Since our arrival Friday evening 11/09, we have been unpacking boxes. Our transporter did his work well: everything arrived intact despite our concerns. The shipment from Citeaux, mostly cheese fabrication materials, was unloaded in Munkeby 10/09 by Alan and our neighbors. The house was sufficiently furnished on our arrival a day later for us to move ourselves in. We experienced intense feelings of separation with the departure celebration held with many friends and our brothers at Citeaux on Thursday Sep 10. Followed by a final farewell from our brothers, young and old, at 5 am on Friday in front of the monastery at Citeaux.

A surprise awaited us at Paris airport. Brother Cyrille, in the rush of last minute preparations, forgot his identity card needed for boarding the plane. He and the Abbot rejoined us in Munkeby Sunday afternoon after its retrieval. A providential transition episode for our senior. Another surprise greeted us upon arrival at Trondheim airport. Mother Rosemary from Tautra was there waving a Norwegian flag and Mother Benedicte from Berkel in Holland, who had just completed giving a retreat for the Tautra Community, offered us a bouquet of flowers. And Alan and Brendan, a husky young American who had offered his week to prepare our installation. From them all we heard the first “velkommen til Norge,” we would hear repeatedly in the following days. A friendship with a common thread manifested itself at our departure with “you leave us, we will see you no more” and “we welcome you here” upon arrival.

The liens of presence and absence that connect human existence as well as our relation with God was felt with intensity at this time of great changes in our lives.

Now we begin days of installation in earnest. Responding to specific needs, improving details, discovering things missing, and putting our new cheese fabrication facility in order to make it operational as soon as possible. Fresh selective garbage bins are in place and a new mailbox is ready to receive your letters.

We prepare our places for the future and for the winter that follows the autumn rain. Your assistance and friendship help us along our path of following Christ in this great Northern desert.