In general, as you know, I like to walk in the way of grace economy — giving not selling, helping where I can. I like events and services to be inclusive and free, and I prefer to offer money and marketing and opportunism as little prominence in my life as I can manage. Not only is this because of the gospel simplicity that I first saw in St Francis fifty years ago, but also because it is a path that leads to joy.
There are some ways money comes into my life — I buy groceries, firewood, clothing, books, and natural medicines if I am ill. Occasionally we need something for the household. But I try to live as quietly and simply as I can; and if there's anything I don't need, I give it away.
Because of these preferences of mine, I don't like bothering people for money. If I write a new book, I let it be known because they are written to be read, to make a difference — but I absolutely will not get into the marketing thing, catching people's attention, drawing them in, looking to promote myself and increase sales. It is not what I feel called to do. I have chosen the quiet way, and that's how I live. I write because I want to share the thoughts in my heart, and to make the Lord Jesus known and loved. Only that.
So I always feel queasy about asking people for money — and this is not for me, it is for our brothers of St Hughs, a Carthusian house in Sussex.
Do you know about the Carthusians? If you don't, I recommend to you the documentary Into Great Silence, which is my all-time favourite film. It gives you a window into Carthusian life.
The Carthusian order was started by St Bruno at Chartreuse in the 11th century. They are unusual in that they are hermits who live in community. So each one has a dwelling with a workspace and a small patch of garden, these dwellings all built around a central green space in a square of which one side is a church. Here's an example of what I mean:
The Carthusian way has continued its quiet flow of silence and contemplative prayer, unchanged since the 11th century. I cannot tell you how moving and beautiful that is to me. It is a tap root of hope and strength, faithfully anchoring the Light. Put simply, it is a gift of God to us. It is what we need.
At the time of the Reformation, the Carthusians experienced the most horrific persecution. Because of their faith, some of them were hanged, drawn and quartered at Tyburn, others were chained (standing up) to a dungeon wall; and then left there, until they died. When I consider this, my mind reels in horror. These quiet, faithful, patient, courageous men, who died in this manner because they would not renounce what they believed. How could we ever atone for what we, in the brand new Church of England, did to them?
Where I live, in Sussex, England, there is Carthusian house at Horsham (where my husband grew up), St Hughs Charterhouse. It is the only post-Reformation house of Carthusians in England. The last one.
The Carthusian way has great simplicity, you might even say it is austere. If you are someone who knows and loves my Hawk & Dove books, you might remember that Père Guillaume became a Carthusian when his conversations with Abbot Peregrine made an impact on his thinking. There is nothing extravagant about these brothers of ours, but they do have buildings to maintain — and the building at St Hughs is in need of repair. They have an absolutely massive bill of two million pounds to repair the roof, and their guesthouse doesn't meet health and safety requirements; they have to find £350k to bring it up to standard; presumably there could be insurance problems for them if anything bad happened while it is sub-standard.
They just do not have the means to meet these bills.
So I am telling you about their situation. Am I asking you to send them money? Not necessarily — perhaps you are so strapped for cash right now that you hardly know where to turn, can't pay your own bills. If that sounds like you, then will you pray for them? They so need help.
But, if you have anything you could spare to help them out, their donations page is here.
If you are someone who knows and loves the brothers of St Alcuins from my Hawk & Dove novels, perhaps you might like to imagine yourself walking up the hill from the village, and knocking at the small postern door in the big abbey gateway. Brother Martin the porter will hear, and let you in. If you tell him you have a small gift for the brothers, he will show you the way to the checker in the abbey court. There you will find Brother Cormac, and you can tell him you've brought a gift for the community — and why you love them, and why you wanted to give them something. Imagine Brother Cormac. See him in your mind. Find your way to what he says to you. Give him your little bag of coins, then make your farewell and go in through the west door of the church that opens into the abbey court. Spend a little while sitting quietly in its spacious peace and light. Then walk back across the court past the checker — oh, look, there's Father Francis greeting you with a nod and a smile as you go by — out through the gatehouse and back down the hill to the village.
Make your gift be your story, your pathway. This Carthusian house in Sussex offers us the amazing chance to reach out and touch, make a difference to, a living and breathing community giving us an unbroken link from the days of St Alcuins Abbey.
If you are able to help them at St Hughs — it doesn't matter how little you can manage, even a tiny bit — when you send your donation will you tell them I sent you their way? Because their choices and their faithfulness and the prayer in which their lives are steeped mean so much to me. I love them for it. In these dark and tumultuous times, just as they did in the turmoil of the Reformation, they are steadily holding the light for us to see the way. I feel we owe them so much. Perhaps together we can help safeguard their vision and protect their path.
Thank you, my friends. Blessed be.
