The Carthusians are an order of hermits - if that's not an oxymoron - founded almost 1000 years ago. Their monasteries, or charterhouses, are closed to visitors. Neither hospitality nor preaching are their charisms. Books, however, are a treasured resource for the Carthusians. One prior, as his monastery burned (yet again) exhorted the monks, "my fathers, my fathers, ad libros, ad libros; let the rest burn, but save the books!" Writing anonymously (like many bloggers!) and prolifically through the centuries, Carthusian authors preached "with their hands."
Tomorrow, I'm "preaching with my hands", or at least conversing with them, at the RevGalBlogPals Monday book discussion: on the DVD Into Great Silence (filmed inside a Carthusian charterhouse) and the book An Infinity of Little Hours (a chronicle of five novices who try the Carthusian life in the 1960s).
When it's all over and done with - I'm going to practice what I preached and take a evening trip up to see my spiritual director and sit in the stillness.
Interesting metaphor...I've been wondering whether I should keep trying to write. This puts it in a different perspective.
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