Living at the Edge of Community

 

By Ralph Karow

It’s hard to believe, but I’m actually coming up on my two-year anniversary of living at New Skete. I came in January 2020 as a Resident Volunteer to get some exposure to Orthodox music and liturgy before heading off to St Vladimir’s Seminary in September 2020. It was only supposed to be for three or four months. Then along came the quarantine, and Br Christopher asked me, “Why don't you  just stay?” Hopefully he's not now thinking, “Why don't you just leave?!” I'm joking, of course, but since I had and still have no intention of becoming a candidate here, it would be a valid question. For myself, I'm experiencing far more spiritual and theological growth than I could have ever expected or even hoped to attain in the seminary. Now that’s all well and good for me, but I have to wonder why the monks are willing to let me stay.

            There are practical reasons for my being here … able-bodied worker, voice in the choir … and while I also like to think that there is a general curiosity about where my concept of “the Trinity being perfect harmony” may lead (not to mention what I actually mean by that), what keeps entering my mind is that it’s more the dogs than the people who have beckoned me to stay. Not the core community, but part of its fabric. Take the dogs out of the equation, and I’d be entirely focused on music and theology. Plug them back in, and I’m fascinated by how much we relate to one another through tone, timbre, gesture, touch, and “looks.” It’s a communication more of the heart than of the mind. And isn’t that what we’re after in prayer? We can’t possibly grasp or even reach out to God with our minds. Our hearts are a different story. It’s just my opinion, but I think that if we can get a sense of this type of communicating and knowing through our animal companions, we’ll more easily recognize it in our prayer and at other moments when God reaches out to us. Not too far-fetched, recalling that Genesis 2:8–20 tells us that God brought Adam animal helpers to be partners before taking Eve from his side.

            Odd as it may sound, this is directly related to my proposal of the Trinity being perfect harmony. If the Trinity is perfect harmony, then that is the image in which we are made: after (or according to) a likeness of perfect harmony. St Paul writes of the Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, but doesn’t scripture also relay a trinity of beauty, truth, and love? By that rationale, practicing and studying forms of music and dance oriented to the increased beauty we feel (love) as the proportions of sound and movement near their pure state (truth) are affective contemplations of perfect harmony through perfectible harmony. If we can get an inner sense and visceral understanding of orienting ourselves to a likeness of perfect harmony through these arts, we’ll more easily recognize it in our prayer and at other moments when God reaches out to us. It’s this inner feeling that matters most when we’re faced with complex decisions that don’t feel quite right even though they could be rationalized. We may try to think what would Jesus do in our situation, but do we try to feel how Jesus would feel? Or do we consider how would Jesus harmonize heart and mind as he did to avert an adulteress being stoned to death? This dimension of connecting with our canine helpers through the music of language and dance of gesture is something I’ve just begun to explore. It wasn’t intentional; it just sort of happened.

            The initial idea behind my staying here rather than enter the seminary was to take theology courses on line while working more directly with the art rather than the theory of music and continue helping Br Luke with the puppies. New Skete’s iPad project with the need for notating in Finale software along with the thought of composing again were enough motivation for me to spend what I would have used for tuition on a large-screen iMac and piano keyboard. I could never get the setup quite right, though, because of a lack of space. It was always a hassle to switch from normal writing/emailing mode to music mode. Enough of a hassle to keep me from composing again. Puppies were supposed to be a sideline, but nature decided differently, and music went on the back burner. And just as things were settling down, along comes Habibah.

            There was talk about my getting a dog, but between the equipment in my little room and the fact that I already had a steady stream of dogs to walk and puppies to take care of, it didn’t seem feasible. And that was only talk of an adult dog. The thought that I might get a puppy never entered my or anyone else’s mind. But Habibah gave me “a look” once when she was in the kennel while Br Luke was on retreat, and I just couldn’t refuse a bit of that heartfelt communication. I knew I’d be in way over my head and would have to make major changes to my room to accommodate her. What I did not expect, though, was how thoroughly she would get into every nook and cranny and eat any and every thing casually left on a desktop, dresser, or bed. The easy solution would be to keep a crate in my room to hold her any time I left the room. But then I’d have the hassle of putting her in the crate … too bad inertia isn’t a virtue … I’d be good at that one.

Habibah at attention

Habibah up to no good

No, what came to my mind was that I needed many, many drawers if we were going to live together. Hiding power cords and cables, and integrating the piano keyboard into the puppy-proofed computer setup, would also be a good idea. I could see it in my mind and also knew I’d never find it in any store. Fortunately, I’ve dabbled in cabinetry before and had picked up my tools from a friend’s house over the break in August. I only got them to play around with instrument designs related to my theories of harmony, but since I now had a need, I decided to take a shot at making the desk.

            Unfortunately, most of the tools needed for cabinetwork were my Dad’s, and I was unable to keep them when we sold their house. My tools are for carving and more delicate work. Still, I built my first stereo cabinet before my Dad caught the bug and started putting his own little shop together, so I know something about getting by with a bare minimum. The main thing was space, and the old smokehouse was an ideal solution. And while it would be great to have a table saw with a large enough surface to handle 4 x 8 sheets of plywood, some old “anti-fatigue” floor mats and an old circular saw with a guide would do the trick. The only one of Dad’s tools I couldn’t leave behind was the router, always his favorite. Since this project is only for me, I’m not bothering with veneers or real wood facing, but being able to put a decorative edge on corners gives it a nicer feel.

            Next on my agenda is a platform bed going all the way to the floor with … you guessed it … more drawers. Good storage Habibah can’t get into, and no chance of dog hairs piling up or balls disappearing underneath. And finally a rack case for my synthesizers, so everything will be at hand and ready to go should a creative impulse come my way. I doubt Habibah had all this in mind when she gave me “the look,” but I can’t help but feel this is more than a diversion. Without some organization it’s unlikely I’d have overcome my inertia to seriously get back to the artistic side of my musings on harmony.

            It seems, though, that it’s never just about me. Sure, these specific pieces of furniture are for my use in my room, but Br Luke has already indicated that when I’m done with my stuff, he has some other things in mind. Something that never would have come up if weren’t for Habibah. We strive and pray to be more attentive to hearing God’s voice in all things and at all times. It’s not always a thundering voice from the clouds, and at least in my case, the silent longing of little brown eyes and a waggy tail are far more effective. I don’t know what Br Luke has in mind, but whatever it is would be contemplative work, and that’s never a bad thing.

            If I were living in the center of community—attending meetings, engaging in group activities, and going to meals—I just wouldn’t have the time to take on anything else. But since I separated myself from that at the beginning, preferring to live on the edge of community, I have the flexibility to squeeze it all in … somehow. That’s not just coming from my reclusive nature. In my opinion, the liturgy and linguistic prayer must be at the core of one’s life in order to become and remain a monk or nun. I go to the services, but they don’t reach me the way contemplative work, or composing, or relating to the puppies and other dogs do. We read of the kingdom of God being like a wedding feast. I’ve never been one for weddings, but I could see myself as part of the support staff—parking cars or bussing tables—which is pretty much where I see myself fitting into monastic life. Through their spiritual life and pastoral works, the monastics are sowing seeds and reaping the harvest. Whatever I’m doing with puppies, music, and dance … be it theoretical, artistic, or with their respective therapies … can only lead to feelings of devotion and a sense of the Trinitarian presence. Without the Church, we can’t nurture those feelings into knowing the Father through the Son in the love of the Holy Spirit. To continue the above analogy, I’m neither sowing or harvesting. All I can hope to do is clear some land and aerate the soil. And perhaps in that way, the outer edge I’m on might turn into a leading edge. But that’s too much to think about … and right now, Habibah needs her tummy rubbed.