In Praise of the Useless Life: A Monk’s Memoir
by Paul Quenon, OCSO
Nestled in the rolling hills of Kentucky, a group of men live “useless” lives. The
Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani was made famous by Thomas Merton. Now, in his 60th year as a monk, one of Merton’s novices shares his reflections in this unusual memoir (
Ave Maria Press, 2018).
Much like the rhythms of monastic life are designed to sanctify time, this work has a pitch and roll, ebb and flow as it considers the dance of life lived in the midst of the ordinary, even mundane – prayer, labour, and prayer again, cycling through the days and seasons.
Quenon is a poet, and examples of his work are strewn throughout. It is a poet’s brand of luminous attention to the tiny details that makes up this monk’s life: the particular qualities of birdsong, the growth of beloved trees. It reminds me of the words of another poet,
Mary Oliver:
“Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
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Fans of Thomas Merton will enjoy Quenon’s memories of the Abbey’s most famous resident. He was even the caretaker of Merton’s famous hermitage for a time. But in a world fraught with noise and nonsense, the most life-giving aspect of this work may be its ability to draw the reader into their own state of contemplation. As Quenon writes about the unfolding of his life as a process of becoming the man God dreamed him up to be from the beginning, we learn about our ourselves in the process. What we find there may surprise us; perhaps things we once thought of as “useless” are really the most essential of all.
Favourite Quote:
“Time, as I bear it daily, is weighted with eternity. The God who resists being named has a name for me. Throughout my time on earth, every day is a letter in the spelling out of that name for me: a slow revelation of who I am. It is a name that cannot be pronounced until the end of life. That pronunciation, I suggest, is what is meant by ‘the judgment’. Judgment is the clarification and truth of each person. I am.
“I am what I live out. Don’t tell me who I am yet. It is still being spelled out” (p. 52).