Tales of a magic monastery

I got a new book in the mail today. It's a really lovely little gem, written by Theophane the Monk. He used to be a monk in the monastery that I've recently written. I guess he also studied some Buddhism. It's the kind of book... I shouldn't say that. I've never seen a book like this, and I don't think I've ever reacted to a book quite like this. When I read the Gospels, there is recognition and awe at such teachings. I smile at the complex simplicity of it all, but I fear the all-too-clear calling. When I read the Buddhist scriptures, I feel utmost joy because I see a clear and true path. When I read Hafiz, I just revel in his words and absurdities, and with Rumi, I feel as though the dust is cleared from my eyes. With this little book by Theophane, I felt like I had come across my own child. I felt protective and a deep love and happiness. These are the things you feel around your own child, and he probably isn't that awe-inspiring to others. Just the same, this book is written with playfulness, humility, and love - not polish. I don't know who I would recommend it to. But enough talk! Here are two stories.

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A visit from the Buddha

Why did I visit the Magic Monastery? Well, I'm a monk myself, and the strangest thing happened in my monastery. We had a visit from the Buddha. We prepared for it, and gave him a very warm, though solemn, welcome. He stayed overnight, but he slipped away very early in the morning. When the monks woke up, they found graffiti all over the cloister walls. Imagine! And do you know what he wrote? One word - TRIVIA - TRIVIA - TRIVIA - all over the place.

Well we were in a rage. But then when I quieted down I looked abou and realized, "Yes, it's true." So much of what I saw was trivia, and most of what I heard. But what is worse, when I closed my eyes, all inside was trivia. For several weeks this was my experience, and my efforts to rectify it just made it worse. I left my monastery and headed for the Magic Monastery.

The Brother showed me around. First, the Hall of Laughter. Everything fed the flame of laughter, big things and small, sacred, solemn, inconsequential. Only laughter there.

Next, the Room of Sorrow. The very essence of bitter tears- those of the bereaved mother, the lonely, depressed. Only sorrow here.

Now the Hall of Words. Words upon words, spoken and written. Alone they must have had some sense, but all together - total confusion. I cried out, "Stop! Stop!" but I was only adding words to words.

Next the great Hall of Silence. Here there is no time.

He took me finally to the Hall of Treasures. "Take anything you want." he whispered.

I chose the heart of Jesus, and with it I'm heading back to my monastery.

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What am I leaving out?

I knew there were many interesting sights, but I didn't want any more of the LITTLE answers. I wanted the big answer. So I asked the guestmaster to show me to the house of the Christian God.

I sat myself down, quite willing to wait for the big answer. I remained silent all day, far into the night. I looked Him in the eye. I guess He was looking me in the eye. Late, late at night, I seemed to hear a voice, "What are you leaving out?" Was it my imagination? Soon it was all around me, whispering, roaring, "What are you leaving out? WHAT ARE YOU LEAVING OUT?"

Was I cracking up? I managed to get to my feet and head for the door. I guess I wanted the comfort of a human face or a human voice. Nearby was the corridor where some of the monks live. I knocked on one cell.

"What do you want?" came a sleepy voice?

"What am I leaving out?"

"Me," he answered.

I went to the next door.

"What do you want?"

"What am I leaving out?"

"Me."

A third cell, a fourth, all the same.

I thought to myself, "They're all stuck on themselves." I left the building in disgust. Just then the sun was coming up. I had never spoken to the sun before, but I found myself pleading, "What am I leaving out?"

The sun too answered, "Me." That finished me.

I threw myself flat on the ground. Then the earth said, "ME."