Letting Go, the Road to Freedom
By Brother Luke
When we enter monastic life, one major feature of this life is the need to let go. Initially, we must let go of all our possessions and get used to the reality that we are dependent on God and not on our own resources. I found letting go of possessions was a lot easier than letting go of my way of doing things. That gets challenged all the time in monastic life. Even so, both of those aspects of “detachment” pale by comparison with letting go of relationships. Human relationships are often what touch us the deepest, and early in our new era this lesson was brought home to us in a powerful way. However, at New Skete we also learn that it applies to our pets. As a monastery where we breed German shepherd dogs that live with us and become our companions, we learn early on about the joy of having a dog companion and the pain when we must let it go. This experience is one we share with many others.
In a recent correspondence exchange with a friend of the monastery who got one of our puppies over 10 years ago, we are reminded of how deep these bonds can go and how painful the final separation can be.
Dear Brother Luke,
Sad news today. Lex passed away this morning. He was not himself and I rushed him to the vet. They ran tests including x-rays which showed a greatly enlarged heart, extremely high white blood cell count, and liver failure. His pupils were non-responsive to light and his feet were cold. Vet thought stroke, cancer, or tumor were all possible. Further tests would not change the end result. Vet said he was not a happy boy and chances of any recovery to a state of normalcy were very slight. Lex was Jon’s boy and I told him he had to make the final decision. He did not want Lex to suffer and made the right choice. Lex tried his best to give Jon one last kiss before the end but he was just so weak. Not sure Chloe knows her best friend is gone. This is just so sudden and devastating.
Dear Barbara,
I am so sorry to hear about Lex's passing. Our canine companions never live long enough. Even though dying quickly is a blessing of sorts, it is never easy for us to bear. You and Jon worked so hard with him, my sympathies to you both. I often think about my dogs that have passed away, and fortunately, it’s their special character and joy that they brought to me and our life that I remember most. Even in the sadness of their loss I find that memories of them always make me smile. I hope that your memories of the good times with Lex will be a comfort to you both at this time.
Dear Brother Luke,
Thank you so very much for your kind words. He had his moments but brought us a lot of joy. I think of pictures and videos I wish I had taken but now those moments exist only in my mind. They are special memories. It will be tough without him. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I would always reach down to pet him, as his bed was by my side. He would never be startled, it was as if he expected it and kept sleeping. I just don't know what my reaction will be when I reach out tonight and he's not there.
There is no easy way to assuage that pain, as dog lovers know. Even though our dogs at New Skete are part of our breeding program, they are also our companions. They live with us in the monastery; my three dogs stay in my room overnight. Sometimes dogs stay with us for their entire lives and pass away here. But more often they are retired from our breeding program and then placed with a new owner. The brother or sister who has cared for that dog has to let it go. I have had to do this many times over the past 18 years. In addition, I have raised over a dozen puppies and it is not unusual for those puppies to go to another brother after the initial 6 to 8 months or to be placed with a family if the puppy does not make it into our breeding program. Losing a dog through death, even at the end of its normal life span, is a wrenching experience. Letting dogs or puppies go after raising them and living with them is still emotionally difficult. But difficult as it is, it may also be teaching us a valuable lesson that goes beyond the immediate situation.
In monastic life this “letting go” is called apatheia. I first began to study French in elementary school. It may have been then or later that we were cautioned about “false friends”: French words that look like English words but actually have a different meaning. In monastic life one such Greek word is apatheia. It looks like the modern English word apathy, but it doesn’t carry the same negative connotation. In Stoic philosophy, apatheia refers to a state of mind where one is not disturbed by the passions. It is best translated by the word equanimity rather than indifference. According to the Stoics, apatheia was the quality that characterized the sage. This concept was carried over into Christian monasticism.
Sometimes we call apatheia detachment. It does not mean deny feelings but rather reorient them. It is what underlies true freedom, freedom from entanglements and attachments that control our lives and stir up our emotions, sometimes without us realizing it. To see our attachments or entanglements as limiting freedom is not easy. After all, to want whatever we want and to do whatever we want to do feels like freedom.
When our community life entered its new phase after September 27, 2000, we knew that change was going to affect virtually all aspects of our life, but it was only by living through these changes that we began to understand how powerful the impact of each new challenge would be. Were we really “free” to change?
A very old concept in monastic life is the avoidance of “particular friendships.” To most of our ears that can sound a bit drastic, to say the least. When we join a monastic community we are making an intentional decision to enter into relationships with a group of people. Even though we may not necessarily like all of them, we are called to love all of them. Some we may like more than others, and “friendships” may develop. But the monastic striving for apatheia still needs to govern those friendships. Easier said than done.
Only a few months after embarking on our new path, the monks’ community had to process the reality that four of our members had left or were in the process of leaving. This was a powerful challenge to our ability to live the call to detachment. No one was able to deal with this exodus of members with the detachment that true apatheia calls for. The emotions stirred up by this reality spanned the gamut from feelings of betrayal and anger to sadness, sorrow, and anxiety. If four left, would more follow their suit?
Departures under such circumstances were not unexpected and are indeed common with all communities that have gone through similar experiences. In our case, we agreed as a community that all members had a right to re-evaluate their profession in light of the new circumstances. Everyone was encouraged to honestly examine their hearts and consciences to determine the best course for them. That is the act of true freedom. But it was not easy being able to accept a brother’s decision to leave, especially if one felt he had a “friendship” with that brother. To view that departure with equanimity was the true sign of personal freedom. As it turned out, with most who left, friendships remained, but at a distance. And ultimately, one brother, many years later, returned. Accepting what life presents to us, and working with it, is the freedom of apatheia.
In recent weeks during our main meal, now taken at noon, we have been listening to an audio book by Richard Rohr, OFM, entitled The Art of Letting Go: Living the Wisdom of St. Francis. The path he outlines is not easy, but if we follow it the destination is true freedom. If you want to follow up on this theme, check out this CD on Richard Rohr’s website.
Photos of Brother Luke's companions:
When we enter monastic life, one major feature of this life is the need to let go. Initially, we must let go of all our possessions and get used to the reality that we are dependent on God and not on our own resources. I found letting go of possessions was a lot easier than letting go of my way of doing things. That gets challenged all the time in monastic life. Even so, both of those aspects of “detachment” pale by comparison with letting go of relationships. Human relationships are often what touch us the deepest, and early in our new era this lesson was brought home to us in a powerful way. However, at New Skete we also learn that it applies to our pets. As a monastery where we breed German shepherd dogs that live with us and become our companions, we learn early on about the joy of having a dog companion and the pain when we must let it go. This experience is one we share with many others.
In a recent correspondence exchange with a friend of the monastery who got one of our puppies over 10 years ago, we are reminded of how deep these bonds can go and how painful the final separation can be.
Dear Brother Luke,
Sad news today. Lex passed away this morning. He was not himself and I rushed him to the vet. They ran tests including x-rays which showed a greatly enlarged heart, extremely high white blood cell count, and liver failure. His pupils were non-responsive to light and his feet were cold. Vet thought stroke, cancer, or tumor were all possible. Further tests would not change the end result. Vet said he was not a happy boy and chances of any recovery to a state of normalcy were very slight. Lex was Jon’s boy and I told him he had to make the final decision. He did not want Lex to suffer and made the right choice. Lex tried his best to give Jon one last kiss before the end but he was just so weak. Not sure Chloe knows her best friend is gone. This is just so sudden and devastating.
Dear Barbara,
I am so sorry to hear about Lex's passing. Our canine companions never live long enough. Even though dying quickly is a blessing of sorts, it is never easy for us to bear. You and Jon worked so hard with him, my sympathies to you both. I often think about my dogs that have passed away, and fortunately, it’s their special character and joy that they brought to me and our life that I remember most. Even in the sadness of their loss I find that memories of them always make me smile. I hope that your memories of the good times with Lex will be a comfort to you both at this time.
Dear Brother Luke,
Thank you so very much for your kind words. He had his moments but brought us a lot of joy. I think of pictures and videos I wish I had taken but now those moments exist only in my mind. They are special memories. It will be tough without him. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I would always reach down to pet him, as his bed was by my side. He would never be startled, it was as if he expected it and kept sleeping. I just don't know what my reaction will be when I reach out tonight and he's not there.
There is no easy way to assuage that pain, as dog lovers know. Even though our dogs at New Skete are part of our breeding program, they are also our companions. They live with us in the monastery; my three dogs stay in my room overnight. Sometimes dogs stay with us for their entire lives and pass away here. But more often they are retired from our breeding program and then placed with a new owner. The brother or sister who has cared for that dog has to let it go. I have had to do this many times over the past 18 years. In addition, I have raised over a dozen puppies and it is not unusual for those puppies to go to another brother after the initial 6 to 8 months or to be placed with a family if the puppy does not make it into our breeding program. Losing a dog through death, even at the end of its normal life span, is a wrenching experience. Letting dogs or puppies go after raising them and living with them is still emotionally difficult. But difficult as it is, it may also be teaching us a valuable lesson that goes beyond the immediate situation.
In monastic life this “letting go” is called apatheia. I first began to study French in elementary school. It may have been then or later that we were cautioned about “false friends”: French words that look like English words but actually have a different meaning. In monastic life one such Greek word is apatheia. It looks like the modern English word apathy, but it doesn’t carry the same negative connotation. In Stoic philosophy, apatheia refers to a state of mind where one is not disturbed by the passions. It is best translated by the word equanimity rather than indifference. According to the Stoics, apatheia was the quality that characterized the sage. This concept was carried over into Christian monasticism.
Sometimes we call apatheia detachment. It does not mean deny feelings but rather reorient them. It is what underlies true freedom, freedom from entanglements and attachments that control our lives and stir up our emotions, sometimes without us realizing it. To see our attachments or entanglements as limiting freedom is not easy. After all, to want whatever we want and to do whatever we want to do feels like freedom.
When our community life entered its new phase after September 27, 2000, we knew that change was going to affect virtually all aspects of our life, but it was only by living through these changes that we began to understand how powerful the impact of each new challenge would be. Were we really “free” to change?
A very old concept in monastic life is the avoidance of “particular friendships.” To most of our ears that can sound a bit drastic, to say the least. When we join a monastic community we are making an intentional decision to enter into relationships with a group of people. Even though we may not necessarily like all of them, we are called to love all of them. Some we may like more than others, and “friendships” may develop. But the monastic striving for apatheia still needs to govern those friendships. Easier said than done.
Only a few months after embarking on our new path, the monks’ community had to process the reality that four of our members had left or were in the process of leaving. This was a powerful challenge to our ability to live the call to detachment. No one was able to deal with this exodus of members with the detachment that true apatheia calls for. The emotions stirred up by this reality spanned the gamut from feelings of betrayal and anger to sadness, sorrow, and anxiety. If four left, would more follow their suit?
Departures under such circumstances were not unexpected and are indeed common with all communities that have gone through similar experiences. In our case, we agreed as a community that all members had a right to re-evaluate their profession in light of the new circumstances. Everyone was encouraged to honestly examine their hearts and consciences to determine the best course for them. That is the act of true freedom. But it was not easy being able to accept a brother’s decision to leave, especially if one felt he had a “friendship” with that brother. To view that departure with equanimity was the true sign of personal freedom. As it turned out, with most who left, friendships remained, but at a distance. And ultimately, one brother, many years later, returned. Accepting what life presents to us, and working with it, is the freedom of apatheia.
In recent weeks during our main meal, now taken at noon, we have been listening to an audio book by Richard Rohr, OFM, entitled The Art of Letting Go: Living the Wisdom of St. Francis. The path he outlines is not easy, but if we follow it the destination is true freedom. If you want to follow up on this theme, check out this CD on Richard Rohr’s website.
Photos of Brother Luke's companions:
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| Kahn and Quena |
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| Rita the puppy playing with Quena, Kahn walking away from the playing |
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| Kahn, Quena and Rita at play |
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| Quena and Rita post play-time |
