There are lots of changes happening in the monastery these days. Rick Wise is a new candidate. Brother Herman Kim, originally from the abbey of Waegwan in South Korea, has newly arrived. Father Thomas has stepped down as director of development and Brother Michael has assumed that position. Father David and Father Lawrence have undergone knee and hip replacement surgery, respectively. For each of these men change involves struggles, challenges and possibilities. Our new candidate, Rick, has had to abandon his freedoms and former way of life in embracing the monastic manner of living. Brother Herman is adapting to a new culture, a new community and a new climate. Father Thomas and Brother Michael have been called to give up much and make sacrifices. Father David and Father Lawrence have suffered the wear and tear of age and are slowly adjusting to new parts, much pain and slow recovery.
     There are lots of ways to describe the human reality of change. One of the more recent bits of terminology to dominate the scene is the word transition. Everything from corporations and government policies to human families is in a “time of transition.” It is, perhaps, a comforting way to describe change, to alleviate anxiety, to massage the mystery inevitable in human life. Transitions sound controlled or controllable.
     However, there is no denying the fact that transition is change, and change involves loss as well as gain. A staple in Christian and monastic spirituality is the continuous dying and rising that must occur in every life. While we may tend to give more attention to the dying than to the rising because of the pain, the sweat and the tears involved, the Church encourages us to look at this in a new way. On the first Sunday of Lent we prayed: “Father, . . . help us to understand the meaning of your Son’s death and resurrection, and teach us to reflect it in our lives.” Like Christ we are called not to a transition, but to a transformation. Life is not something to be controlled by us, but something to transform us into sons and daughters of God, brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ. In order for this transformation to be operative, we must acknowledge the death in order to embrace the new life to come.
     Every change in our lives is, in fact, a type of death. We die to the past, to the familiar and to our own egos: passing from youth to adulthood; from the single to the married life; from marriage to widowhood; from health to illness. Aside from the act of physical death, there is, perhaps, no more painful transition for many of us to make than the one from a life of activity and work to retirement. Although in some ways, a monk never retires, each of us will face a change in energy, ministry and assignment. This time has come for our confrere, Father Gerald Ruelle. Father Jerry was professed in 1945 and ordained in 1950. Over the years he has served in the school here in Richardton, in our foundation in Bogota, in various parishes and in chaplaincy work. In humility, Father Gerald would never claim to be doing more than he was asked, nor more than he could manage. In addition to the demands placed on him throughout these many years, Father Gerald has suffered cancer and the loss of beloved family members and confreres. But from our perspective—through the eyes of faith—he has passed through these deaths to a stronger and more vibrant faith in the risen Christ.
     In the funeral liturgy we pray, “Lord, for your faithful people life is changed, not ended. . . . In him who rose from the dead, our hope of resurrection [has] dawned” (Preface of Christian Death I). In faith, we can see the passage from death to resurrection reflected in the many changes of our lives. Where Christ has gone, we also can go. We see this transformation in the life of Father Gerald, this faithful monk and priest, this gentle brother and friend. We look forward to welcoming him home and imbibing of his wisdom: the hard-won facility to let go of the old and embrace the new which God gives; in short, to rise to new life.