Surviving the nine o'clock curfew

Tursday. I stood on the bow of the evening ferry as it sailed across to the Isle of Wight and saw the abbey on the coastline as we approached the harbour. In the twilight, its bulbous minarets gave it an Islamic outline. It's only a few minutes from the ferry to the abbey where I was met by Brother Francis, the guest master. He wasn't expecting me.
"Ah, I expect you told the Abbot you were coming, did you?" Well, I eanailed him, I said. "E-mail, eh? Well, that explains it then." A pause. "That's the way things are today,1 suppose?" Then the gentle smile: "I'm sure we can find you somewhere." He took me upstairs to my room which was simple, clean and cold.
"You've missed supper, but you're just in time for Compline. The church is on the left and guests usually sit at the top of the steps. Be careful you don't trip on them."
He explained the rules. "Be sure to come straight back after as I lock the door for the night." I hadn't realised that, come nine o'clock, I would be locked in to the guest quarters.
"Vigils is at 5.30am," he said. "1 expect you won't come to that. Lauds is at seven followed by breakfast."
The church was cold and dark and I tripped on the steps. Compline was in Latin, which I wasn't expecting. I didn't really enjoy it very much and not for the first time wondered how much my heart would be in this retreat. I had a huge amount of work outstanding and several talks to write. 1 began reading a booklet I found on the table entitled, Making and Taking Retreats, and fell asleep feeling a little lost.
Friday: The church bell woke me at five o'clock, and I realised my relationship with it would not be easy in the coming days. I tip-toed across the courtyard to Vigils and sat in the dark at the back of the church, avoiding the steps. I went back to bed until the next bell for Lauds.
The prayer life of the monastery is built around daily Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours, or the Office. Seven times a day psalms, hymns, responsories and antiphons are sung by the community. What to sing and when is highly complex and there are literally hundreds of variations. Guests may (and some do) join in the liturgy and Brother Francis is always available to give you the right books for the psalms and hymns. No point trying to look for the antiphons, an old hand told me, ebefore you'find thee' , community share their meals with guests WUXI after grace, in Latin. a monk reads from the Rule of Benedict and an educative book. Shakespeare's life unfolds through Peter Akroyd's excellent biography. Wholesome food is served, where possible from their garden, and we ate very quickly and in silence.
After lunch I walked around the Abbey in the sunshine with Abbot Cuthbert. Quarr Abbey was founded in 1908 by monks from the mother house in Solesmes, France. Coincidentally, the new abbey is a stone's throw away from the ruins of a Cistercian abbey to Our Lady of Quarr, which was destroyed in 1536. One of the monks was an architect and he constructed a Moorish redbrick abbey, inspired by his visits to Seville. Local bricklayers and craftsmen were employed, and it was completed just before the First World War. The community has always been about 20 strong and they follow the traditional monastic way of life. Today, in addition to working a small farm, they are well known for their pottery and bookbinding.
Thanks to a legacy. the monks are renovating their guesthouse with 21 comfortable rooms, disabled facilities, meeting moms to allow for conferences and a special garden for guests. But Abbot Cuthbert maintains his priority will be to ensure that individuals and groups can come here for retreats. Any change will be on his terms. and that means the guesthouse being locked at nine o'clock.
In the afternoon I walk through the lovely Abbey grounds to the beach and read again Populorum Progessio, Pope Paul VI's encyclical on human development. Forty years on and it is as fresh as ever, a manifesto for Cafod's work. Just listen to this: "It is not just a question of ending hunger and poverty but building a world where all can live truly human lives. We are not just promoting human well-being; we are also furthering man's spiritual and moral development."
Saturday: It's been a wet and miserable day and my mood has reflected this. I found it hard to relax. I felt trapped, confused and lonely.
Again, I questioned why was I here. I have tried before to have an individual silent retreat and only lasted a day. Restlessness and impatience are personal weaknesses and I felt myself getting irritated and angry.
For many the tolling of the church bell and daily worship provide a natural rhythm for their retreat. Yet I found this more like a routine which merely broke the day up into times to pray, read, think, walk, eat — or nap. I continued to struggle with the Latin; feeling the need to both listen to the plainchant and give it meaning by trying to match it with the English words.
Even the psalms began to grate with me; some were recalling triumphalist bashing of the heathen enemy, others came across as self-pitying whining to God about how much better and holier we are than the next person.
In the afternoon I enjoy a long walk in the rain. Head cleared, calm restored. I arrive back at Quarr Abbey just as the evening sun breaks through creating a wonderful vision of contrasting intense light on the red brick with deep shadow. After Compline I began reading a book from the library about Cardinal Newman. I found his energy and intellect, struggles and difficulties whetted my appetite to read more.
Sunday night: Enjoyed a long and refreshing sleep that even the bells couldn't disturb. So much so that I only just made Lauds. The English plainchant this morning felt fresh and rich with praise and blessings. I had not felt more at ease and relaxed since I'd arrived and I stayed on after the monks left with one of the prayers in my mind: "Bright shines the dawn awaited long, and praises loud ring through the skies!"
After Mass I had another conversation with Abbot Cuthbert in the cloister and offloaded all my complex feelings and frustrations. He stared at the family of ducks who've nested and hatched in the cloister and said: "Well, that's good." Which I wasn't expecting.
"You know what's important," he says, "is that your heart is open."
The most profound silence during my retreat was not in church or in my room but on my walks. The tracks and trails are where I feel at ease. open to God. This time I went inland through woods and along riverbanks. My step was lighter and my thoughts less gloomy. Perhaps the Abbot knew my retreat would need to take a bit of a wobble before I started to benefit from it. That there would be apprehension and doubt before I loosened up and became open to the new experience, open to the Spirit. My grumpiness yesterday was about my fears and my baggage.
When I decided to go on retreat it was because I needed to purposefully set myself away from the world, not to be distracted by daily anxiety, to make space for God and to listen. I love my job but it is taking its toll in personal time and physical and emotional energy.
During my final Compline I didn't try to read Latin or follow the English words in the halflight. I closed my eyes and opened my soul to simple chants, to the haunting voices swirling around the roof of the church. I had an intense feeling of being wrapped in a warm cloak of holiness and peace.
"Save us Lord while we watch; protect us while we sleep. Into your hands I commend my ,spirit." That final surrender before sleep.
Monday: This last day was delightful. I finished the book on Cardinal Newman in the sunshine, explored the old abbey ruins, and collected eggs from the farm to take home with me.
I reflected on what I would tell friends. Every year I walk Scottish Cross. a pilgrimage through the Western Highlands to Iona. It's a very physical experience of community and worship centred on the liturgy of Holy Week and Easter. It energises and renews me each time. But now I know I also need the withdrawal and silence of a retreat, to set aside a few days to "rest in God". To surrender to the pattern of the monastic day, and be fully human again.
Quarr does not specialise in providing guided retreats. What it offers is a welcoming and holy space where the individual is free to imbibe something of the monastic ideal of seeking God. The monks are hospitable but you're not going to be the centre of their attention. The abbey and grounds are beautiful and peaceful and you can walk for miles. The new guesthouse will be wonderful. If you enjoy Latin liturgy and plainchant you will be at home. In the end, even someone like me — a child of Vatican 11 who finds more meaning in modem English liturgy — couldn't help being open to the centuries of liturgical tradition and wisdom. I will be back.
Chris Bain is the director of Cafod, the international aid agency of the Bishops of England and Wales