2 of 3

Saturday afternoon, the Calvin group met with Brother Pedro. Originally from Barcelona, he entered Taizé in 1971 and lived with a fraternity (a small group of Brothers) in the "Hells' Kitchen" area of New York City during the 1980s and 1990s. He spoke candidly about the challenges of the monastic life and also the difficulties involved in receiving thousands of visitors.

Responding to questions on doctrinal matters, particularly over the Eucharist and icons, Brother Pedro spoke of the community's desire "to bring together all this richness" shown in Christianity. "Why not?" he asked rhetorically. "Each church has a specific gift to bring."

I broke into the discussion to ask the question that had been bothering me since my arrival in France. How could one explain Brother Roger's murder, which occurred in the Church of Reconciliation? "He was a figure of peace," Brother Pedro answered. "Evil cannot resist goodness."

That evening, all young people were invited to the community's main house to meet Brother Aloïs, the new prior, in Brother Roger's room. Despite the honor, I was a bit apprehensive. Had the room already been turned into a shrine?

As we entered, however, Brother Aloïs urged the forty young people present to sit anywhere, even on the bed. His gentle manner and complete lack of pretense were highly engaging. He explained how the community lives off the pottery and other wares it produces—asking with a laugh if we had already bought a postcard at the gift shop.

Brother Aloïs grew up in Stuttgart and came to the community in 1974. As early as 1978, Brother Roger had suggested that Brother Alöis "could do this"—be the next prior—a decision that was formalized in 1998 by the community. At the beginning of 2005, Brother Roger announced he would be stepping down during the course of the year.

Despite the terrible nature of his death, Brother Roger's foresight allowed for a smooth transition in leadership. Like the other Brothers we met, Brother Aloïs stressed the sense of spiritual unity that has allowed the community to continue since August. He also indicated the support the community has received, through thousands of emails and numerous letters from church leaders and political leaders, ranging from Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, to Kofi Annan, U.N. Secretary General.

During the group discussion, a young French Catholic asked how he could relate spiritually to his Protestant friends. Brother Aloïs suggested the Taizé model of shared Bible reading, singing, prayer, and silence. "C'est déjà énorme" (That's already incredible).

The French student didn't realize he was surrounded by Protestants—Americans and Canadians from Calvin College, no less—with whom he had probably joined in prayer that day.

One may find Taizé to be long on ritual and short on systematic theology. But it certainly offers wonderful encounters across national and denominational lines—encounters that provide a great sense of hope.

During the weekend, I shared a room with a Japanese pastor and a British teacher living in Germany. Over dinner, I sat at table with young people from Sweden, Germany, Italy, and France, and received an idea of what a "United Nations" of faith might be.

And after the visit, I realized why the Brothers would probably never put metal detectors in the Church of Reconciliation—their sense of spiritual security and calm goes miles deeper than most of us would like to admit. At the funeral service for Brother Roger, Brother Aloïs didn't shy from mentioning Luminita Solcan's name and committing her to God's forgiveness.

next page... |  2 of 3

share this page

November (Web-only) 2005, Vol. 49