A Wayfarer's Faith: Aspects of the common basis of religious life

by T. Edmund Harvey

What would such a monastery be, if we can picture it in its main features?

The first monks were always anxious to have their cells built in some out of the way spot, and sometimes moved the site of their abbeys to avoid the dangers to their inward life which seemed to them to come with the invasions of sounds and sights, which the approach of "the world" brought with it. We do not now believe in the separation of the life of the Church from that of men outside it, and there was at times, perhaps, some thing selfish in the monkish love of quiet isolation, but for certain high purposes of the monastery there was a sound instinct in it too. If the community remains in living touch with those without, sending its members out from it and receiving guests on visits long or short, it will, in many cases, do its work best if its situation provides it with a natural atmosphere and background of peace and quiet, corresponding to that inward atmosphere which is to play around the life of its members.

Our monastery then will be placed in some little frequented spot, if possible close to one of those natural bridges over which we may most easily pass into communion with the life of nature unmarred by man's civilization; at the edge of some rolling heather moorland, where for miles you may walk and see no sign of house or road, under a ridge [p.140] of the limestone fells, or beneath the shadow of a great chalk down, where the sheep wander freely, or if mountain and moor be too far away, within reach of some solitary beach where the sea and wind sing to each other; or with an outlook over some wide plain, with broad horizons giving some sense of openness and freedom.

Thus the companions of the House of Peace will have constantly near them the opportunity of silent intercourse with nature; they can go out, wet or fine, sometimes alone and sometimes in company, to let the fresh winds and the sunlight and the spirit of the great open spaces play about them, making them stronger and fitter for joy and labour, for study, work and prayer.

For the House of Peace will be a dwelling place where work is done. It will have its garden, with flowers and fruit trees to be tended, kitchen herbs to be raised; there will be beehives and poultry, and it may be the cares of a small farm; but beast and bird will be treated as friendly companions, objects of the Divine care and therefore, too, of the good will and reverence of the dwellers in the House.

There will be books: especially such as will help most the inner life of man, the Acta sanctorum, and all stories of the saints of God; the records of other religions than ours, the works of philosophers, poets and thinkers; and such a general library as would befit a home whose windows look out on to many sides of life.

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But it will not be enough for the House to be supplied with opportunity for fruitful study, quiet cells for work and meditation, and with manual labour in garden, field and orchard for all who are fitted for it. Side by side with all this, lest the life of the place grow self-centred, there must be some redemptive work going on, for those who would not themselves have been helped by all this storehouse of good things, apart from the mediation and ministry of its inmates.

This might be found in the education of back ward or delicate children from poor homes, physically or mentally in need of special care and protection, or in the care of convalescents; it might be found in the training upon the adjoining farm or in the carpenter's workshop, as well as in special classes held within the House itself, of a small group of lads from some reformatory, or juvenile offenders to whom our present prison system offers only imperfect means of succour. In helping in their training, in joining in their games the companions of the House of Peace would find a noble part of their own work and joy; they would hope too to share with these younger brothers not a little of the deeper inspiration of common worship.

There might be as a part of the House rooms for married companions, while single men and single women could be lodged in separate wings or in hostels of their own. Grouped near there might be cottages with homes linked to the House [p.142] by ties more or less close, whose inmates would share in much of the work of the community and in the privilege of common worship. The centre of all would be the place of prayer, the hearth where each companion would come to rekindle his own torch of love and aspiration; a place always open, used in common at certain times and by all companions who were able to come there, used also frequently throughout the day for silent prayer and meditation, whether by the companions and their guests, or the passing stranger who might care to enter in.