Carthusians and oxalate

 What I really want to talk to you about is oxalate, because it's much on my mind at the moment. I had never grasped how much toxicity is wrapped up in what we have been encouraged to see as health foods, and I had no idea that it would store up in one's tissues all over the place and then burst forth — "Surprise!" — like the Spanish Inquisition, causing an astounding array of symptoms entirely bewildering to doctors and involving PAIN — like that, bright red and in bold and in capitals.

But.

There are so many circumstances in life that have a concomitant 'but', don't you find? This is one. Experience has taught me that just as our well-bred aunts and grandmothers knew never to discuss politics or religion (and obviously not sex) in polite society, so one of the modern taboo subjects is health.

I guarantee you this. Try it. If you ask a friend (any friend, pick any one you like) what they eat, a strangely steely look will enter their eye — we call it defensiveness — and they will respond (sweetly, calmly, courteously), "Oh, we have a very healthy diet." And then you know you must stop. Don't say another word. Even if you know more about oxalate than you ever knew there was to know. Even if you are in Susan Owens' Facebook group and you've read Sally Norton's book from cover to cover (even the index); just shut up about it. Say nothing. They don't want to know.

So all I will say to you is that after four years of the most exhausting and debilitating pain, I think (oh God, I hope so) I know how to fix it now. That's all. I don't want to stir up any kind of hornet's nest. I can blog about it if you like, but only if you truly want to know.

Moving on.

I woke up this morning to a lovely long email from Krista, full of all sorts of memories and thoughts and family snippets; an absolute delight. I'll write back to you Krista, of course, but there was one bit I thought might be of interest to several people. 

Krista said: "You have expressed that [the Carthusians] have a life devoted to prayer.  I am curious when they started and if for a specific purpose?"

Oh my goodness, the Carthusians! I'll try not to go on for too long.

They were started by St Bruno of Cologne at the end of the 11th century. There is so much to say about him that I think I'd better redirect you to a potted history.

If you plough through that article you can read all about him — an accomplished and considerable man — and then you eventually come to the bit where he backed out of being made a bishop and went off with some friends to become hermits instead. The bishop of Grenoble (in France), Hugh de Châteauneuf (that translates as Hugh of Newcastle which doesn't sound quite so posh, does it?) set them up in a place called Chartreuse in the French Alps — and that was how the Carthusian order began. If you look at the word you can see how "Carthusian" is extrapolated from "Chartreuse", and that's why each Carthusian monastery, wherever situated, is also a Chartreuse, or 'Charterhouse'.

So the Carthusians are hermits, but with the difference that they are hermit who live in community. That's why their monasteries are so massive — each of the monks or nuns lives alone in his/her own hermitage, but all built together. Here's the one in West Sussex. 

Their life is enclosed and contemplative, dedicated to prayer.  

I'm going to digress for a moment to wonder if whoever wrote the Disney film Encanto knew about St Bruno, because this encounter . . . well, he went off to be a hermit, didn't he? There are similarities. He's called Bruno. 

So St Bruno started off the Carthusian order, and their Rule of life has remained unchanged from the 11th century to the present day, which is quite something.

You have heard of the liqueur called Chartreuse, yes? Well, the Carthusians make it. On the one occasion I went to visit them (they aren't meant to have visitors but they graciously let me go and meet them), they plied me with Chartreuse. I was going to refuse it because I don't drink, but I realised that not only would that be extremely rude because it's their special product but also if I said no then they probably wouldn't be able to have a glass either. I accepted on these grounds and in consequence was too drunk to get the best out of the meeting, but such is life.

There were nine Carthusian houses in England before the Reformation — Witham Charterhouse in Somerset was the first, founded at the end of 1178, as part of Henry II's penance for the murder of Thomas Becket. Then Hinton Priory was founded in 1222 in Gloucestershire (but moved to Hinton in Somerset five years later), then Beauvale Priory was founded in Nottinghamshire in 1343, then the London Charterhouse was founded in 1371 on a burial ground for the great plague (!)

Hull Charterhouse came next in 1377 in the East Riding of Yorkshire, followed by the Coventry Charterhouse in 1381 and Axholme Charterhouse near Epworth in Lincolnshire in 1397. The last of the 14th century foundations was Mount Grace Priory in North Yorkshire, founded in 1398. And the very last of them was Sheen Priory (otherwise known as Richmond Priory) in 1414 in Surrey.

And then came Henry VIII and his reformation. The Carthusians, gentle, quiet men, men of prayer, steadfast and true, would not renounce their Catholic faith. You can read about their martyrdom here. It makes my head reel. This is what the Church of England is founded on. God bless Margaret Clement who did what she could to help them.

One of the Carthusian martyrs, Blessed William Exmew, was the procurator of the London Charterhouse, executed at Tyburn on June 15th of 1535. He was one of the first members of Christ's College Cambridge founded by Margaret Beaufort (who married Owen Tudor). He wrote his name in the frontispiece of a copy of The Cloud of Unknowing that he copied out for his monastery. They have that treasured script safe at the Charterhouse in West Sussex.

So they were men of the utmost courage.

After Henry VIII had finished his grisly work, there were no Charterhouses left in England. But they came back, founding St Hughs at Parkminster in West Sussex in 1873.

And there they live in faithfulness, praying for us and for all our fallen world, day by day. 

I am so grateful that they are there, walking with us quietly, out of sight, holding us up in prayer. We certainly need it.

To get a flavour of their life, I most highly recommend to you Philip Groening's wonderful film Into Great Silence. You have to buy or rent it (and your money would not be wasted, it's the best film I've ever seen) but there's a trailer here.