Abiquiú, New Mexico
Images by Justin Kaneps
On the Monastery of Christ within the Desert, a distant abbey beside the Chama River in northern New Mexico, some two dozen Benedictine monks start their days in darkness.
At 3:30 a.m. one Sunday this previous winter, a bell summoned the monks to vigils, the evening prayer. Beneath a transparent sky filled with stars, they made their manner in silence from their cloister cells to an adobe chapel. Seated in wood pews, the brothers, most in black habits, started chanting the primary of 12 psalms. They used the traditional Gregorian melody, however with English phrases: “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.”
The sky was nonetheless darkish when a second bell rang, simply earlier than 6, calling the monks to the daybreak prayer, lauds. Again within the chapel, now carrying white cowls over their habits, they chanted once more. As they started Psalm 150 — “Praise God in his holy place” — the tall home windows above the sanctuary turned from black to midnight blue, the primary trace of dawn.
The solar rose over the following hour, illuminating the chapel’s backdrop — the Mesa de las Viejas, whose 500-foot rock partitions light from purple to shades of sand and cream in a glowing gradient. Save for the faint rush of the Chama River, a sage inexperienced tributary of the Rio Grande, the canyon was soundless.
The setting was fastidiously chosen. The Rev. Aelred Wall, who based the monastery in 1964, had scoured the nation for a spot the place he and his brother monks might “return to the sources” — to the quiet and isolation essential for his or her contemplative vocation. Passing by way of New Mexico, he heard about an previous ranch home on the market 75 miles northwest of Santa Fe — 115 acres alongside the Chama, surrounded by nationwide forest.
Father Wall discovered the property on the finish of a 13-mile filth street. He despatched an ecstatic letter to his mates on the Mount Saviour Monastery in Elmira, N.Y., waxing poetic concerning the river valley and its “great sentinels” of colourful cliffs. “Then came the cathedrals in stone, some of them Romanesque, some of them Gothic,” he wrote.
Father Wall purchased the ranch home. He requested his buddy George Nakashima, the grasp woodworker and architect, to design a chapel.
The chapel was constructed of adobe within the form of a Greek cross, with arms of equal size, utilizing clay from the positioning. Hand-carved doorways have been introduced from Mexico, the bell from an previous church within the northern New Mexican village of Questa. The artist Ben Shahn, a buddy of Mr. Nakashima’s, contributed two massive stained-glass home windows. Georgia O’Keeffe, who lived 25 miles away, in Abiquiu, served as an inventive marketing consultant.
Set in opposition to the towering cliffs, the adobe chapel seems to be otherworldly. The Cistercian monk and author Thomas Merton, who visited the monastery in 1968, as soon as likened its bell tower to “a watchman looking for something or someone of whom it does not speak.”
Shortly after 9 a.m., the bell rang once more, for Mass. About 20 guests settled into chairs at the back of the chapel. Abbot Christian Leisy, in purple vestments, walked across the altar, swinging a thurible of smoldering incense. Smoke swirled and billowed within the mild because it rose.
A monk learn from the Guide of Baruch: “Take off your robe of mourning and misery; put on the splendor of glory from God forever.” The second studying was from Paul’s letter to the Philippians. The Gospel was from the third chapter of Luke, by which John calls on the individuals of Judea to repent and be baptized and “prepare the way of the Lord.”
Abbot Christian’s homily famous that the primary strains of the Gospel located us in historical past — “the 15th year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea.” Luke, he stated, needs us to grasp that these occasions actually occurred. The passage can also be a reminder that God usually surprises. God intervenes on the margins, talking not by way of Caesar or Pontius Pilate, however by way of John — “someone unknown, someone living in the desert, eating wild honey and insects.”
Abbot Christian closed by studying a Jewish people story from the thinker Martin Buber. It advised of a Rabbi Eisik, in Krakow, who desires thrice that somebody suggests he search for treasure beneath a bridge in Prague. The rabbi travels to Prague, solely to study that the treasure was at house, buried beneath his range.
After Mass, a lot of the monks retreated to personal quarters. A boisterous group from the Washington Nationwide Cathedral migrated over to the present store and loaded up on wares made by the brothers: goat-milk cleaning soap; scented candles; their newest album of Gregorian chant, “Blessings, Peace, and Harmony.”
Shortly after 11 a.m. the bell rang once more, calling the monks. Because the guests drove off in a caravan, sending mud clouds into the blue sky, the brothers filed again into the chapel. — Abby Aguirre