Religion-beat work is complicated, in part because of the many different ways that believers use the same words when describing their lives. The word “charismatic” has a rather different meaning in a Pentecostal flock than when Baptists — or maybe most Baptists — use it to describe preachers.
Here at GetReligion, we frequently note the challenges faced when journalists from other beats cover complex stories that are baptized in religious language and imagery.
That brings me to a feature that ran the other day at The Washington Post with this headline: “Monks in New Mexico desert dedicated to hospitality reflect on two years without guests.”
There is much to praise in this piece, along with a few word choices that would be challenged by insiders in specific religious traditions. Also, I should note that the author of this piece is Chris Moody, a CNN veteran who is a former student of mine at both Palm Beach Atlantic University and the Washington Journalism Center.
It’s rather hard to critique and praise the work of a talented former student! However, I know that many GetReligion readers will want to see this feature. Plus, I love New Mexico and, early in my religion-beat work, I wrote similar pieces about monasteries in North Carolina and later Colorado.
Let’s start with the overture, which is long, but shows the larger context of this COVID-tide story:
CHAMA RIVER CANYON, N.M. — Hidden in this canyon of crimson sandstone cliffs encompassed by miles of federally protected wilderness, the Monastery of Christ in the Desert seems like an ideal place to ride out a pandemic.
For more than 50 years, a small community of Benedictine monks has quietly lived, worked and worshiped here in a cluster of off-grid adobe buildings along the banks of northern New Mexico’s Chama River. Considered the most remote Catholic monastery in the hemisphere, it can be reached only by a 13-mile single-lane earthen road that winds through the canyon. Abiquiú, the closest village — population 151 — is 25 miles away. Groves of cottonwood and willows line the river where bald eagles hunt for rainbow trout. Black bears, coyotes and cougars prowl the pinyon- and sage-scented Santa Fe National Forest, which surrounds the monastery.
Despite the difficult journey, outsiders have flocked to this serene abbey for decades in search of spiritual renewal. As adherents of the sixth-century Rule of Saint Benedict, which teaches that monasteries are to treat visitors as they would Jesus himself, the monks graciously welcome outsiders. As many as 30,000 people make the pilgrimage each year, including past notables such as the artist Georgia O’Keeffe and the actor Matthew McConaughey. Guests are an integral part of Benedictine monastic life and have been for 1,500 years. “Monasteries,” Saint Benedict wrote, “are never without them.”
What happens when a pandemic forces a monastery to close its gates, in part because of fears about the health of elderly monks?
That brings readers to a crucial summary paragraph:
Given their communal living arrangements, monastic communities are particularly vulnerable in a pandemic. Nine monks from the monastic community of Mount Athos in Greece have died of covid-19. Last February, two nuns at the St. Walburg monastery in Villa Hills, Ky., died after 28 sisters were infected with the coronavirus. Outbreaks occurred in monasteries worldwide, including in Italy, the Philippines and Ukraine. With elderly brothers at the Christ in the Desert — the oldest is 95 — a coronavirus outbreak could have proved a death sentence.
Eastern Orthodox readers will immediately want additional information.
Why? For insiders, the word “community” — in this context — would refer to the members of an individual monastery, perhaps including laypeople who assist in some way.
Mount Athos contains 20 different monastic communities, as well as smaller “sketes,” along the rocky Halkidiki peninsula in northern Greece. Depending on the source for the information, somewhere between 1,600 and 2,000 monks live on what, for centuries, the Orthodox have called the “holy mountain.” While part of Greece, Mount Athos has remained its own autonomous state since the Byzantine age.
So how many Mount Athos monks have died of COVID-19? It’s safe to assume that nine deaths is a low number and I’ve seen reports claiming 40 deaths or more. How many monks have been vaccinated? How many have declined to get their shots? It’s hard to say, when dealing with communities as private and isolated as these particular monasteries (check out this typical photo).
What’s my point?
In a way, the complexity of that one sentence in this fine feature story underlines the painful challenges that monks face during a global pandemic and, thus, the degree of difficulty facing journalists entering their world and writing about their lives.
Consider this set of practical details from Moody’s piece:
The guesthouses and gift shop have traditionally served as the monastery’s primary sources of income, a necessity to fulfill Benedict’s order that monasteries be self-sustaining. In exchange for a donation ranging from $85 for individuals and $170 for couples, guests receive a simple room and three daily meals. They may attend services and Mass in the chapel with the monks, explore the canyon and, if they wish, work alongside the brothers during their morning labor period. The monastery has eight guest rooms available and can accommodate 13. Guests stay a minimum of two nights and can arrange visits lasting several weeks.
There are fascinating, and at times ironic, twists in the stories of the men living inside the gates of Christ in the Desert monastery.
One of the monks — Brother Chrysostom — is a former academic with degrees “from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Johns Hopkins and the University of Pennsylvania.” Wait, there’s more:
As early adopters of the Internet in the mid-1990s, they built their own website and realized that they had a knack for Web design. Using a modem connected to a mobile phone powered by solar panels, they started a business building websites that became an international media sensation. They consulted with the Vatican on the Holy See’s website.
Clearly, monks can pray while living in isolation, as well as take on individual agricultural tasks (a monk charged with making a trip to the nearest Walmart will need to go into lockdown after returning). The Internet is an ironic door to the wider world, under these circumstances.
But here is the Big Idea: At the heart of Benedictine life is the charism of hospitality. The pandemic has caused a unique and painful form of sacrifice.
FIRST IMAGE: Brother David, in a photo drawn from “The Desert Monk” YouTube channel.