The White Monks know a thing or two about worship. They moved forward
in the 12th Century from its rigid Liturgical Sacramental Rites, by looking back to the 1st Century with it pure and simple line of worship. They shrugged-off exhibitions in the sanctuary and tossed out the distractions of byzantine elaboration; apostasies that celebrate more the ingeniousness of the celebrant and the credulity of the worshipper than they do the mystery and wonder of the Living God.
They opted instead for the simple, unadorned and minimalist order of divine worship first demonstrated by Jesus of Nazareth at the last supper. Jesus shrugged off the drama and performance of the priest-magicians of his own day with their verbal spells, elaborate costumes, and exclusive ordinances done in secret. Jesus knew what the White Monks discovered that the joy of worship cannot be programmed or induced. It is, rather, a pearl of great price that can only be experienced as truth struck dumb with wonder.
The White Monks do the work of worship irrespective of what may or may not be experienced by the worshipper. They do the work of worship in conformity with the solemn duty of all of God’s creatures to praise and honor God. Nor is the liturgy of the White Monks conducted as a performance of an hour’s duration on Sunday morning. Their liturgy is intimately connected to the diurnal rhythm of their daily life in synch with the on-going liturgy of nature itself.
The liturgical regimen of the White Monks does not call attention to itself. In its rich and unemotional simplicity, it transcends the obvious, the mundane and the theatricality of popular performance art. At the night office, the Cantor’s voice rises upward cutting through the silent, sleeping world to meld in harmony with the eternal Cosmic Song. And in accordance with the schedule of the remaining six hours plus Compline of their workday, the White Monks add their community voice to the perennial song of the Great Amen.