Unto the High Places

By Donald J. Richardson

I have pondered the contemplative life, wondering how it could be useful or applicable to one in the twenty-first century. Might it be useful—even in this age of high-speed electronics, of smart phones, and Wikipedia—or should it be consigned to the annals of history to days when life was apparently simpler and quotidian challenges easier to resolve? Reduced to its essentials, the life of a recluse or eremite might, after all, prove to be instructive, freeing, and liberating. It might still be generally relevant.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546267645

Donald J. Richardson

Although he has long been eligible to retire, Donald J. Richardson continues to (try to) teach English Composition at Phoenix College in Arizona. He defines his life through his teaching, his singing, his volunteering, and his grandchildren.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

And so I walked away: walked away from a life, from obligations, from all connections. Truthfully, I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew was that I had to start over, and that meant giving up all that I had enjoyed before. The job wasn’t hard to leave even though it was satisfying and it paid well. Working in a media center I did some voice work for radio, was featured in some commercials for TV, and did some writing of advertisements, none of which gave me satisfaction any longer. Perhaps I had simply been doing it for too long and no longer found any of it challenging. At first the money had been stimulating, but after one has paid all of his bills and has money left over, what to do with the remainder? It accrued in the bank account, drawing interest and increasing the principal, but to what purpose? I was left asking, Surely there should be more to life than this. Money had become meaningless. Oh, yes, I could donate to the various organizations that regularly solicited funds from me, but that was like allowing a trickle of water to flow over the dam: it soon became a gusher of requests for more and more.

My brothers and sisters could always use the extra funds as their lives hadn’t been as monetarily rewarding as mine, but that, too, was not satisfying. I didn’t relish being the person everyone came to when money was low. I had donated to the church, of course, regularly, even religiously, I might say, but the donation elicited no satisfaction in me.

Jesus had said, Sell everything you own and give to the poor (Luke 18:22). Jesus no longer being available to me, I determined I should retreat from this world that had succored me for more than seventy years. I chose the retreat of Benedict.

Because I wasn’t permitted to take possessions with me, and because I actually didn’t wish to, all I had was a small bag of clothing with a few books I hoped to have time to read. Everything else went into storage with the fees paid on an annual basis. I didn’t know whether I would ever redeem any of the belongings in storage or whether I wanted to. The truth is, I had the taste of ashes in my mouth, and all I wanted was to be sequestered from this vale of tears. Maybe the retreat would provide something resembling surcease or peace.

Because I had no children and in fact had never married, my social obligations and connections were nil. Earlier in life I had sung in the church choir, but that had slowly become etiolated over time so that I found myself complaining, usually soto voce, to myself about the members who invariably came late to rehearsal or to Sunday morning services; about the sopranos and altos who came to the choir only to socialize it seemed; about the members who didn’t seem to value the experience as I did, who didn’t seem to respect the setting or the experience. Talking to myself, I realized was a dead end, and that led me to take a sabbatical from the choir which seemed to stretch on and on, never ending, apparently.

The spiritual life had not been open to me for years as I was too involved in commerce and media. There just didn’t seem to be time or room for it. Now, however, I think I was realizing that what I had settled for was not satisfying and that it had to be replaced by something of greater substance.

In a boyhood raised as a Roman Catholic, I had touched on the spirituality of religion and seen that for some people it did promise something greater than the next paycheck or raise in salary. Somehow I had lost that; maybe I could re-discover it at St. Benedict’s.

CHAPTER TWO

Prayer was a very important element in our lives at St. Benedict’s. Of course, I had expected this, but it did take me back at first. Matins was the first prayer, which we offered for a morning watch that ended at dawn. The theme of Matins was the Lord has given us not only daylight but spiritual light; also Christ is the Savior.

The next prayer was called Prime or First Hour. This came at 6:00 a.m. The theme of Prime is Christ’s being brought before Pilate.

After Prime is Terce or Third Hour at 9:00 a.m. The theme of Terce is Pilate’s judgment of Christ and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost which is supposed to have happened at this hour.

Sixth Hour or Sext prayer came at noon. The theme of Sext is Christ’s crucifixion which happened at noon.

Ninth Hour or None prayer came at 3:00 p.m. The theme of None is Christ’s death which happened at three p.m.

Vespers is offered at sunset. It represents the Glorification of God, the Creator of the world and its Providence.

Compline was offered at bedtime. The theme of Compline was the image of death, illumined by Christ’s Harrowing of Hell after his death.

Midnight Office was the end of the day–or the beginning–and it was offered at midnight. The theme of Midnight Office was Gethsemane, a reminder to be ready for the Bridegroom coming at midnight and a reminder of the Last Judgment.

Matins or Orthros was the morning watch ending at dawn. The theme of Matins was the Lord having given us not only daylight but spiritual light representing Christ the Savior.

Finally the Typica, typical psalms, was observed whenever the Divine Liturgy was not celebrated at its usual time. When the Liturgy was celebrated at its usual hour, the Typica followed the sixth hour (or matins) where the custom was to observed the Liturgy then, and the Epistle and Gospel readings for the day were read then. Otherwise, on aliturgical days or when the Liturgy was observed at vespers, the Typica was much shorter and was observed between the ninth hour and vespers.

All of this I had to learn, and at first it seemed like too much. Accustoming myself to life at St. Benedict’s required a complete change to my physical and psychosocial being. I simply wasn’t prepared to be waked at such unusual hours of the night or to interrupt my work during odd hours of the day to pray. At first the interruptions seemed like intrusions in my life, requiring me to sacrifice sleep or to interrupt my thought pattern which egotistically I was used to pursuing on my own.

However, over time I began to realize that subjugation of self was very important. I wasn’t in the armed forces where I had to listen to reveille or taps to order my day, but perhaps the analogy is useful. It was necessary that my vision of definition of self was less important than I had regarded it heretofore. Now my existence was less important than the fact that