“You’re not going to become a monk, are you?”

My wife asked me this after I excitedly returned from a week-long retreat to a Trappist monastery and my growing fascination with monastic rhythms.
The obvious answer is no, since I’m neither single nor celibate
It began the previous week when my twelve-year-old son and I went to serve at a St. Benedict’s Abbey— a local monastery—during his April break. I know, I know, what a great school break, but I wanted to do more than indulge all his self-focused desires, though we did some of that, too. While there, we made brownies with Father Anthony (we got to take some home) and did manual labor with Brother Joe. Jon got to use a power saw, so he was happy!
Afterward, something kept nagging me about that day, and after further reflection, I figured it out:
Monks never seem to be in a hurry.
We would stop and chat before working and while we were working. The work got done, and they never seemed to rush. The same wasn’t true for me, at least inwardly. At several points throughout the morning, I wondered, When will we get started? I came here to work!
Are You Addicted to Hurry?
What would it be like to spend a whole week at a monastery?
That was the question I was seeking to answer.
A week after St. Benedict’s, I was slated to visit a Trappist monastery called the Abbey of the Genesee for a semi-annual retreat. The May retreat is for rest and recharge, and the November one is for reflecting on the past year and planning for the New Year, though I do some rest and recharge then as well. Why monasteries? They are quiet, reflective, and peaceful, especially Trappist monasteries, which value silence and simplicity, even using sign language to communicate at times instead of speech.
Going into my retreat, I just couldn’t get the theme of hurry out of my mind.
The Abbey of the Genesee was the same monastery that Henri J.M. Nouwen, a Dutch author, priest, and professor, famously wrote about in his 1976 book The Genesee Diary: Report from a Trappist Monastery. (I read the book while there and truly enjoyed it!).
On day 1, Nouwen mentioned a book by Robert M Pirsig called Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Later, when I looked up the book on Amazon, this quote was at the top of the page:
“When you want to hurry something, that means you no longer care about it, and want to get on to other things.”
Ouch.
After ten years of attempting to live at a rhythmic and natural pace, I realized something that day:
I’m still addicted to hurry.
The stark contrast between my pace and the pace of the monks at St. Benedict’s highlighted my addiction, and in the silence and simplicity at The Abbey of the Genesee, it was confirmed.
Upon reading the quote, I immediately thought of my wife, Gina, and how often she is the unwilling victim of my hurry. It prompted me to write this apology letter.
Dear Gina,
I recently read a quote, “When you want to hurry something, that means you no longer care about it, and want to get on to other things.”
Upon reading it, I immediately thought of you and how often you’ve felt that way around me. It made me sad. I don’t really have adequate words to make it all better, only a humble apology. As much as I want to stop hurrying, I don’t know how. I’m addicted to my own importance, my own schedule, and my own things. By God’s grace, I will continue to work on slowness until, at least some of the time, you don’t feel like the unwilling victim of my hurry. I’m sorry. I know that it’s not enough, but I offer it anyway. Please forgive me. I knew not the extent of it until very recently. Please pray for me.
Your grateful husband—Kent
I read it to her that night on the phone, and she was deeply touched. I jokingly reminded her not to be too touched yet, I still have to walk it out!
Unhurry Your Life
Most people think slowing down means getting less done. In truth, hurry hinders us from fully appreciating and caring about what matters most—primarily the people in our path.
What’s your relationship to hurry? Who in your life most often feels the impact of your rushing? What one small rhythm could you change this week to begin breaking free from your addiction?
Until next time,
Kent