Coming down the hill on either side of the valley from the West, or turning the corner at the end of the valley from the East, you catch an occasional glimpse, between obstructing trees, of Pluscarden Abbey. There it stands, in the middle of nowhere, in this gentle and fertile valley: a mediaeval monastery. Somehow the sight is always both astonishing and stirring. I still find it so, even after so many years of living here. How remarkable that the monastery is here at all; how remarkable that the buildings have survived all these centuries; and how remarkable that the Benedictine monastic life is still going here!
To visit the Abbey, you cross the little bridge over the Black Burn; then passing through the rather impressive gateway, you make your way up the front drive. And everyone says the same! Immediately you feel yourself to be somehow in a special place; on sacred ground. You’re entering an area that long ago was set aside for God; and as people constantly testify, the peaceful, strangely elevating, wholesome atmosphere is almost palpable.
The King of Scots built our monastery 795 years ago, for Valliscaulian monks from Burgundy. These monks represented one among many contemporary versions of the Benedictine life. Since the early 9th century St. Benedict’s Rule had become the standard norm of monastic throughout Western Europe. The Valliscaulians followed more or less the tradition of Cistercian observance, with various adaptations of their own. So: their emphasis was on radical renunciation of the world, seclusion, austerity and simplicity of life, living totally in community, but also with a strong focus on each monk’s search for God, in constant and fervent prayer. Somewhat paradoxically, to enable all that they presumed the need for large buildings, and large estates; with the patronage and protection of rich and powerful magnates. They also of course relied on the official endorsement and support of Church authority.
By the High Middle Ages, monasteries everywhere in the Latin West had come to conform to a set pattern. That is, each monastic building was unique, just as each community was unique, with its own characters and customs and traditions. But: according to the broad conventions of Gothic architecture, any monastic complex would be dominated by a cruciform Church, oriented on an East-West axis. Joined to the South side of the Nave the other monastic buildings would be grouped around one or more hollow squares.
Since St. Benedict’s great legacy was Benedictine monastic life, let me try to describe our own place as briefly as I can, as a way of illustrating what became a standard architectural interpretation of his ideas and principles.
Stand on our front drive, and you notice at once that our building is made of stone. The Church is far bigger than would be needed to accommodate a small community; and its roofs far higher than could be justified by any practical utility whatever. So: for all its seclusion, this is a massive public statement, and symbol, and pointer. It proclaims: the Catholic faith is true, and enduring, and worth living for, and worth dying for. God is very great; and heaven is very much to be desired. As for this life on earth; it’s short, and the veil that separates it from eternity is thin, and fragile. Wealth and power and pleasure are not necessarily wicked in themselves: but they don’t ultimately make you happy, and to live for them is folly and empty vanity.
You next notice that all these buildings have been patched, re-modelled, adapted, up-dated, mangled, added to, and in some parts demolished. So if Benedictine life is stable, it is never static. If separated from the world, it is also a part of its world, and very much subject to the vicissitudes of history.
Jutting out onto the front lawn is the Eastern part of the Church, the Chancel. This was built essentially for the Mass. St. Benedict notoriously says little about the Mass, but not long after his time its daily centrality became universally assumed. The whole monastic round is centred on the Mass, or points to it, or flows from it. For here in the Mass Christ is made present; here, through sacramental signs, we encounter him directly, and here he communicates himself.
Above and behind the Chancel stands the tower, equipped with its bells. These announce the times for the work of God: 7 times a day and once at night. The bells also sweetly proclaim to anyone in ear shot that the life of the monastery continues on its regular course, and that this could be a good time for them also to raise their hearts and minds to God!
Passing then Southwards along the East range, you see a prominent Chapel. Of course it’s the Lady Chapel, because you can’t be a Catholic and not have devotion to Mary. In spite of St. Benedict’s silence about Our Lady, every Valliscaulian house was dedicated to her, together with St. John the Baptist, and that dedication endures.
Above is the dormitory. Thank God now that’s divided into individual rooms; but in ancient times it was all one open space. Above that, the novitiate, or maybe formerly the dormitory of the brothers.
Next, still passing Southwards, comes the Chapter House. This noble vaulted room with its central pillar is the place for formal community meetings, and for community preaching and exhortation. Then the Slype. Now it’s a library, but once the main front door was here. A Slype is a passageway, from outside to inside. Inside is the monastic enclosure, which no outsider is permitted to enter. Here community discipline and above all community silence are maintained. Maybe though through the open door you might glimpse the East Cloister walkway, and beyond that a pleasant garden. This garden is walled about, but open to heaven; ideally a place of delight; perhaps even an image of paradise.
At the South East corner is the large vaulted space, with two central pillars, now serving as refectory and kitchen. Originally this functioned as calefactory or day room. Here in cold weather a fire was kept burning constantly. Here presumably was the scriptorium, and the place also for lectio divina and study. Below this are traces of the mediaeval cellars, or store rooms: the responsibility, of course, of the Cellarer of the monastery, whose important duties and qualities St. Benedict so notably describes (HR 31). Turning then West, into the South Range, there now survives just the back wall of the ancient refectory. Then turning North from that we enter the West Wing. Probably then as now this was the site of the guest house, and also probably the monastic infirmary.
So you have a picture of this community, living its life of prayer and work; very human and also very divine; practical and idealistic; peaceful and also always busy.
In five years’ time we’ll be celebrating 800 years of Pluscarden. And that is cause for celebration, because there’s nothing in the whole world quite like it! If the place is unique, and precious, then so is our present community, with its roots in Prinknash and Caldey, and the 1948 return to monastic ruins, and the networks of friendships it has built up.
The inevitable question poses itself: what of the future? Only God knows. But we all pray that He may send young men, good ones, and soon, so that monastic life may continue here: for we believe it is good, and of very great value.