By Father Peter A. Dora

(Editor's Note: Father Peter A. Dora sends this personal account of an experience last week while on retreat at the Trappist Monastery of the Holy Spirit near Conyers. Father Dora is a former editor of The Georgia Bulletin.)

I was just starting Mass when the bell began to toll. I knew immediately what had happened, but I wanted to make sure. I turned around from the small altar at the side of the church and there was Father Francis giving me the message in Trappist sign language: "death."

So, old Brother Ambrose had just left this life. I was offering Mass for the intention of his happy death. I now began to pray in thanksgiving that it had been accomplished.

Brother Ambrose was well-known to me while I was living with the monks a year earlier. When I returned for a week's retreat, I learned that he was dying.

My first night back, the abbot took me to the monastery infirmary to visit the dying monk. It was unlike any deathbed scene I had ever witnessed: no frantic crying, no nervous conversation. Brother Francis Michael was sitting in the room praying silently while Brother Rod, a physician, checked the dying man's heartbeat. The abbot gave Brother Ambrose his blessing and left the room. I prayed silently for a short time and then blessed him and left.

I had the opportunity to visit once again the next morning. Brother Rod said that he would die soon. This time I became even more aware of the simple peace in that infirmary room. Monks were stopping by in twos and threes to pray for their brother as he was finishing out his natural life.

Because I had overslept that morning, I missed the concelebrated community Mass, so I decided to offer Mass that afternoon with two priests who were visiting from Atlanta. We began at 4 p.m. Brother Ambrose died 10 minutes later.

As I read the Gospel for the Mass, I could think only of the beautiful Christian death of this holy monk. The last line of the reading was: "The harvest is good but laborers are scarce. Beg the harvest master to send out laborers to gather his harvest."

These were just the right words to accompany the death of a Trappist monk. If only people could realize the importance of this silent, hidden life. If only they could see what a powerful ministry it is. If only they knew how crucial is the contemplative life to the activity of the Church. I prayed that many others would be sent to replace Brother Ambrose in the labor of God's harvest.

Broth Ambrose gave praise to God throughout a lifetime of nearly 90 years, but his service was not always as a monk. In his earlier years, he was married and raised a family of six sons and two daughters. Three of the sons entered the priesthood and one daughter became a nun. In 1947, his wife died and two years later he followed his son, Father Philip, to the Trappist monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, Georgia. He was 60 when he entered and he gave the last 30 years of his life to God as a monk.

Father Paul has been at the monastery for many years and was Guest Master when Brother Ambrose arrived. "He really gave two lives to God," he explained, "the life of a husband and father and the life of a monk."

In the era when Brother Ambrose arrived, it was customary to spend two days in the guesthouse before actually entering the monastery proper. Father Paul related how the aspirant monk had arrived with a huge box of expensive cigars (he had been a cigar manufacturer for most of his life in Burlington, Iowa) and how he managed to smoke nearly all of them during the two days. At the end of this trial period, he gave the remaining stogies to the Guest Master saying, "Get rid of these for me," whereupon he tossed out the butt of the one he was smoking and walked into the monastery.

Years later, Father Paul asked him if he ever missed smoking cigars. He replied that he had never given it another thought.

I heard many similar stories which testified to the Brother Ambrose's wit.

Just hours before his death, two of Brother Ambrose's children arrived at the monastery to be there along with Father Philip, their brother. Father Eugene, a Benedictine priest arrived from Kansas and Sister Ada, a Carmelite nun, came in from California.

At the same time that I was offering Mass, Father Philip and Father Eugene were also celebrating at another altar in the Church. Sister Ada was praying with them.

As soon as they finished Mass, the three of them went to the infirmary where most of the community had already assembled to recite the prayers for the dead. After they had all prayed, Sister Ada asked if they could sing something together. They chose the Salve Regina, which is sung every day in the office of Compline. It is always the last music of the monk's day.

The next day preparations were begun for the funeral of a monk. Brother Thomas began digging the grave in the monk's cemetery that morning. The task quickly became a community affair as various monks came by during the day and took turns digging. For them death is serious, but not fearful. Trappists have always taken a rather straightforward approach to death. Personally preparing the grave of a brother is right in character for these monks. They are happy to serve God and the Church through faithful monastic living, but at the same time they look forward in a kind of reverse nostalgia to the return to the Father in death.

That evening the office of Vespers was preceded by the reception of Brother Ambrose's body in the Church.

Abbot Augustine, Father Philip and Father Eugene processed from the sacristy. Ahead of them were monks with incense, holy water and the Easter candle. The whole community followed to the front steps of the Church where the abbot greeted the body with prayer and blessed it with holy water. The monks then returned to the Church while chanting in Latin.

With the body of their brother placed in an open bier in the center aisle of the Church, the monks sang the office of Vespers as usual. Brother Ambrose was laid out in the white Trappist choir robe to show his return to the Father in the most characteristic activity of the monk -- singing the praises of God.

Throughout the night and the following day, the brothers took turns keeping silent vigil in the church.

The funeral Mass was celebrated the following evening. Among those present for the celebration were Brother Ambrose's children, a number of his grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Father Philip and Father Eugene officiated at their father's funeral along with Abbot Augustine. The community sang the traditional Latin chants as the procession entered the church. Sister Ada read the first scripture reading and Father Eugene preached the homily. The Mass was concelebrated by all the priests of the monastery, along with several visiting priests.

At the end of Mass, everyone present processed to the monastic cemetery for the rite of burial.

The grave was blessed by the abbot and by Fathers Eugene and Philip. Then came the Trappist burial.

Father Cyprian climbed down into the open grave to receive the monk's body. Six of the brothers lowered Brother Ambrose into his grave with sections of woven canvas.

Father Methodius read the Gospel account of the raising of Lazarus as this holy monk was being laid to rest.

After he had arranged the habit and covered the face, Father Cyprian climbed out of the grave.

A small spade was handed to Abbot Augustine. He threw dirt into the grave and handed the spade on to Fathers Philip and Eugene who did the same.

We all processed back into the church singing the psalms of Compline to complete the monastic day. This day ended like every other day with the abbot blessing each member of the community with holy water.

The following day, too, would be like any other day with one exception: Brother Ambrose had gone to the Father.