“Deep within everyone’s heart, whether he knows it or not, is a yearning for supreme happiness and thus, ultimately, for God. Such a primordial human longing for completion is fulfilled by a monastery where the community gathers several times a day for the praise of God.”
So said Pope Benedict XVI, on his visit last fall to the ancient Cistercian monastery of the Holy Cross, Stift Heiligenkreuz , in Austria’s Vienna woods. The large stone abbey, a blend of Gothic and Romanesque architecture, has been a site of unbroken prayer since its founding in 1133 by St. Leopold III. In the nine hundred years since, the abbey has endured the Reformation, French Revolution, two world wars—and recent decades have brought a resurgence in monastic vocations, with nearly eighty monks now gathered together in the austere but joyous tradition of ora et labora . (Spectacular pictures here and here .)
The monks maintain some eighteen parishes as well as a Pontifical Theological Academy, but the primary apostolate of the order is prayer and praise of God, specifically in communal chanting of the Divine Office. Prayer is not just part of their schedule, a five-times-a-day punctuation of their daily work. Rather, prayer is their schedule, their rhythm, their purpose, their life.
But what does all this have to do with the Marthas of the world, with those busied by many things? Or, more radically, what does it have to do with those who have never seen the Lord’s face—and never even thought to look?
A great deal, if we are to believe pop music charts in the U.K. By luck—or grace—the Heiligenkreuz Cistercians were surprised with a Universal Music recording contract last winter, and they released an album, Chant: Music for Paradise , this May. Within a week, their album was among the top ten for British pop-music sales. Said HMV spokesman Gennaro Castaldo, “Monastic chanting has to be the ultimate chill music.”
That’s one way to put it. Or, as Cistercian Abbot Gregor Henckel Donnersmark observed : “When the monks sing, the chant opens our hearts. We hope it purifies our souls and helps us regain charity, light, strength, and peace. Where there is chaos, we seek to restore order. Where there is emptiness, we try to find meaning. And where there is sadness, joy can return.”
“Gregorian chant is our prayer,” added Father Karl Wallner, O.Cist. “The music not only calms, it also gives strength. It is as though one crosses a spiritual border and leaves the superficial world behind. Gregorian chant opens the heart for God.”
But prosaic description only goes so far; to be understood, sacred music needs to be heard, needs to be prayed. Deep within everyone’s heart, whether he knows it or not . . . ”
