An American Abbot

We finished last weeked Jerome Oetgen’s An American Abbot: Boniface Wimmer, O.S.B., 1809-1887. Wimmer was the founder of the first Benedictine Abbey in the US, St. Vincent Archabbey, the grandmother house of our own Saint Anselm Abbey.

We had read this book at table at some point in the 1980s, before I joined the community. I read it myself when I was in formation in the early 1990s. This edition is revised, and was published in 1997, so is in that sense new to all of us. I believe Oetgen made significant revisions.

Wimmer’s story remains extraordinary, possessed by a good zeal to establish Benedictine monasticism in the United States; he had one failed attempt to do so in Canada (Sandwich, now Windsor, Ontario). His missionary zeal caused some frictions, as did his style of leadership. He had difficult relations with the Benedictine sisters, some of the lay brothers, and at times, the local bishop. Some of his monks also were critical of his unrelenting focus on founding new houses and establishing them as abbeys.

The Monks of Tibhirine

We finished, just before Ash Wednesday, John Kiser’s account of the murder of seven Trappist monks in Algeria in 1996: The Monks of Tibhirine: Faith, Love, and Terror in Algeria.

Catholicism: A Global History

We just finished John McGreevy’s Catholicism: A Global History from the French Revolution to Pope Francis. It makes for a good table reading narrative, and while some of the material is quite familiar, other is not. For example, I had never heard of the term “liberal ultramontanes” (e.g., Félicité Robert de La Mennais). I also had never come across this great description of John Paul II, “He was comfortable on every stage.”

McGreevy must have some background in the writings of Jacques Maritain as he comes up in a number of chapters on the twentieth century. Given most people’s familiarity with the post Vatican II era, the more recent material is not as captivating, and, no suprise, more likely to provoke disagreement.

One last perk: In 30 years of listening to table reading my alma mater has never been referenced, until now. McGreevy mentions the Antigonish movement of cooperatives with a shout-out to St. Francis Xavier University in Nova Scotia.

River of the Gods

Several weeks back we finished River of the Gods: Genius, Courage, and Betrayal in the Search for the Source of the Nile by Candice Millard. The book tells the nineteenth century story of the search for the source of the White Nile, in an expedition led by two Englishmen, Richard Burton (the famous explorer, not the actor) and John Speke. Millard has a great narrative style, which is immediately apparent from the first few pages when the Rosetta Stone is fought over by two colonial powers, France and England. Millard holds off on the easy joke for a few hundred pages, but then finally writes, “And then Speke spoke.”

I was already familiar with this story as I had seen a movie in the very early nineties about the two explorers, entitled Mountains of the Moon. Here is the trailer.

Cherish Christ Above All

Last week we finished Demetrius Dumm’s Cherish Christ Above All: The Bible in the Rule of Benedict.

One problem with reading this type of book at table in a Benedictine monastery is that most monks are already quite familiar with the many biblical citations in the rule. Dumm’s book does have some interesting material on community life and mystical intimations at the conclusion of this work.

Cicero

Several weeks back we finished Anthony Everitt’s Cicero: The Life and Times of Rome’s Greatest Politician.

Much of the background material to this biography is familiar territory, both from ancient history and Shakespeare’s great play, “Julius Caesar.” Everitt’s particular focus on Cicero himself brings some aspects to the fore that otherwise might get lost in the string of dramatic events that occurred during his lifetime.

For me the focus on Cicero’s writings was illuminating, for I confess I have not read as much Cicero as I should have.

Even though he was not a major player in the events that led to the death of Caesar, nor was he present at the assassination, Cicero does have a chilling quote in his follow-up: “I wish I had been there for dinner. There would not have been any leftovers.”

Never Caught

In late June we finished reading Never Caught: The Washingtons’ Relentless Pursuit of Their Runaway Salve, Ona Judge by Erica Armstrong Dunbar.

Ona Judge was a slave of George and Martha Washington who moved with the first couple from Mount Vernon to Philadelphia as George took up his official residence there as the country’s first president. There are several interesting aspects to this book, one of which is the description by which the Washingtons had to move their slaves in Philly back and forth between that city and their home in Virginia to avoid the legal emancipation of a slave who spent more than six months in the “City of Brotherly Love.”

At one point Ona Judge is able to escape from the presidential residence successfully and ends up living in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where she would remain for the rest of her life. The book recounts at least two attempts by the Washingtons to reclaim Judge as their slave, both attempts, unsurprisingly given the title of the book, unsuccessful.

Endurance

Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Journey by Alfred Lansing:

We rarely read older books at table, but this gripping narrative, originally published in 1959, has been a crowd-pleaser in the community. The adjective “incredible” in the subtitle is definitely on-target. Like many, I had known some details about Shackleton’s voyage to Antarctica before, but this narrative is nonetheless captivating. I’m not sure I would have ever described a table-reading book before as a page-turner.

My only criticism of the book would be that it ends rather abruptly. The journey across the alps of the South Atlantic on South Georgia Island leaves out a reference to Shackleton’s journal where he writes:

“When I look back at those days I have no doubt that Providence guided us, not only across those snow fields, but across the storm-white sea that separated Elephant Island from our landing place on South Georgia. I know that during that long and racking march of thirty-six hours over the unnamed mountains and glaciers of South Georgia it seemed to me often that we were four, not three. I said nothing to my companions on the point, but afterwards Worsley said to me, “Boss, I had a curious feeling on the march that there was another person with us.” Crean confessed to the same idea. One feels “the dearth of human words, the roughness of mortal speech” in trying to describe things intangible, but a record of our journeys would be incomplete without a reference to a subject very near to our hearts.”

Finally, another missing element is that the epilogue ends only with the rescue from Elephant Island of the remaining expedition members, but makes no reference to their return home, or to the equally incredible fact that Shackleton on a return attempt to reach Antarctica suffered a fatal heart attack on South Georgia Island and was buried there.

Still a great read, and with some minor editing, appropriate for table reading.

Pope Benedict XVI Reader

During Lent we read various writings of Pope Benedict XVI collected into one tome by Bishop Robert Barron: The Pope Benedict XVI Reader. It’s one of those books you are originally unsure how it will work for table reading, but in the end turns out to be relatively successful. I am a fan of this pope, and the variety of texts in the reader indicates well the breadth of his interests. Some of the background material regarding his resignation was new to me, especially that the assembled cardinals knew something unusual was up when the pope began speaking in Latin rather than Italian, his usual language of address.

I would say the most revealing and informative parts of the collection were taken from his brief treatments of various fathers of the early church that the pope gave in a series of weekly audiences. Of course, Saint Benedict is covered, but here is a gem from St. Gregory:

“This is what Gregory the Great affirms in a famous letter (I, 24): ‘I confess that I receive and revere, as the four books of the Gospel so also the four Councils”, because on them, Gregory explains further, “as on a four-square stone, rises the structure of the holy faith.'”

The Secret Life of Trees

Colin Tudge loves to personify trees. They are always seeing, feeling pain, learning in nursery schools. This reminded me of my college literature professor, Fr. R.J.MacSween, who hated when poets personified non-humans, a practice engaged in by, yes, even the great Robert Frost. An especially absurd example of personification was from Thomas Hardy’s poem about the Titanic, Convergence of the Twain, where a bottom dwelling fish observes, “What does this vaingloriousnees down here.” [I still love both Frost and Hardy.]

Despite this, there were some strong passages in the book. I especially liked the section where Tudge explains why leaves turn colors in the fall.

The Secret Life of Trees: How They Live and Why They Matter