"Abbaye de Marche" from the Ghent University Library

How Silence Works: Emailed Conversations With Four Trappist Monks

About two months ago I started reaching out by email to a group of people whose lives I wanted to know about and understand: The Trappist monks of Oka Abbey, in Quebec. Oka Abbey is the oldest Trappist monastery in North America. A century ago, it was a powerhouse; but in recent decades, the community had dwindled to a fraction of what it used to be. After leaving the Abbey to a heritage group, to be preserved as an historical site, the remaining monks relocated to a smaller retreat in the mountains north of Montreal.

Even if you’re not Catholic, you may have heard of the Trappists. They’re the monks that make those impeccably crafted beers. And the Trappist monks of Oka created a cheese worth drooling over that’s still widely sold today (though now it’s made by a Quebec dairy company). The Trappists are known for one other thing as well: they’re the only Western-based monastic order that still actively practices the “vow” of silence. (I put quotes there because neither the Rule of St. Benedict nor the practice of the Order actually contains a specific vow of silence. As I understand it, it’s an edict, a practice that’s a part of their lives that the monks happily follow.) It was this element of their lives, their dedication to the enshrinement of silence, that drew me to them. Not really knowing how one goes about approaching monks, I located list of monasteries in addition to the former Oka group and started emailing. It took a few weeks of very slow introductions to find the right people, but I ended up in conversation with four monks, two in America and two in Canada.

I was nervous; a lapsed Catholic who chased his ideals into a long education, I have a weakness to people who devote themselves more than I ever did to higher pursuits. But I found the group to be more than usually friendly, loathe to judge, voluble in writing and full of enthusiasm to correspond. They’d write me in the spare time they had between their daily work and daily prayer, most seeming pleased. Most asked that I respect their privacy, so their names have been removed here. This conversation was culled from four different interviews conducted using the same starting questions.

David French: Writing Home exhibition: The groundbreaker

David French is quite possibly the most important Canadian playwright you’ve never heard of. In the 60s a wave of writers started to push against the staid, classical nature of Canadian theatre. Their desire was for playwrights to write about Canadian lives for Canadian audiences, and the most successful of these was a young man from Toronto named David French.

Speed-the-Plow: A Hollywood story

David Mamet is unquestionably one of the heavy-hitters of contemporary theatre, and perhaps even contemporary literature as a whole. Over the past 30 years his name has become synonymous with a kind of stylized writing that is carefully, artfully structured in order to seem natural. If you find that characterization contradictory, imagine him as the verbal and aural equivalent of Impressionist painting. If a friend describes something as “like Mamet,” he means that the characters speak in short, powerful bursts, each overlapping and interrupting each other to create a sort of haze of words from which slips every now and then a slash of beauty.

Fall Arts Preview: Theatre: Stage fright

Ottawa Little Theatre brings us a few new fall selections, starting with Inherit the Wind by Jerome Lawrence and Robert Lee. This famous play tells the story of the Scopes Monkey Trial. The theatre then moves on to the dark thriller Dr. Cook’s Garden by famed writer Ira Levin, from October 18 to November 5. Their fall lineup concludes with the comedy I Hate Hamlet, from November 29 to December 17.

England (A Play for Galleries): Getting out of the way

As director and actor David Bernstein describes it, Tim Crouch’s England is a play that exists on the border of theatre and the conscious exploration of what theatre is. It doesn’t enforce the idea of performance, but rather strips it away as much as possible. In between telling a very classical story, the script challenges our conception of “a show.”