I rarely hear anyone at the monastery raise his voice — it's just not done. I've often wondered why that is. I think there are a couple of reasons. In a cloister, a sharp word let slip out of your mouth on a whim — can have a very long life afterwards. Because the life of a monk is so quiet, because we spend so much solitary time, in our cell, on a walk in nature, alone with our thoughts, a harsh word can glow red inside you for days like embers burning in a ruined building that just won't cool. Of course, just because we know it's going to have bad consequences, doesn't mean most of us refrain from getting angry or shouting once in a while. I have wondered how the monks do it — I mean, go for years and years without raising their voice to one another. There's something more than fear of consequences at work here. I've noticed this — if a monk loses his cool again and again and spouts off angry words during a community discussion or at work, the monks won't entrust him with any position of real responsibility in the community. Maybe outside the monastery, a man who raises his voice and waves his fist in the air, commands a certain fearful respect from others, but the monastery is a different culture, a different world. Among monks, virility is not proven by aggressive behavior or harsh words but by self-control. If you are shouted at, and can answer the combative brother with a measured and thoughtful response — you win. I've seen an abbot rebuked by a brother in front of the whole community, who seemed to "ride" the rush of hot air coming at him like a hawk rising on a thermal with only the slightest twitch of his wings. This is the response that wins you respect in a monastery. This is how true strength manifests itself in a monk. Or is it weakness? The abbot I saw, after all, might have been quite humiliated by that brother's rebuke and simply chosen to suffer it in weakness, for the sake of his brother, and because, as the one freer at that moment to love, the abbot was able to bow down — something quite unthinkable to the red-faced brother. Jesus spoke very softly when condemned by his enemies. I have a kind of devotion to the muted voice of Jesus during those last hours on earth — you know, it might be the very same voice I hear when two of my elderly brothers have a disagreement in the sacristy.

Father Raphael