Dance of a Fallen Monk: The Twists and Turns of a Spiritual Life

National Catholic Reporter, Sept 15, 1995 by William C. Graham

I found myself absolutely captivated by George Fowler's tale. He was a Trappist monk for 17 years. He left his community, married, enjoyed a progression of careers, found himself "completely outside of all organized religion," and finally produced this interesting book as something of an autumnal reflection.

The thesis underlying his ruminations is found in this sentence: "I have come to realize that a mother lode of strength lies waiting in all of us, unmined gold yearning to gleam in the sunlight."

He asserts that his tale will "say more about church management and organizational interests perpetrated upon monks and millions of Catholics around the world than it does any individual." I disagree.

His story is remarkably interesting. I did not intend to spend much time with it, but found myself reading every page. It is not a story of the church, of personnel mismanagement or of organizational dysfunction. It is not a story of the church's failure to apprehend the gospel. Fowler's tale is profoundly personal. The book's subtitle promises what is, in fact, delivered: the drama of the twists and turns of the author's spiritual life.

One might wonder about the theological naivete of a monk in solemn vows who is amazed to realize, while contemplating the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, that "whatever was in the tabernacle was also in my heart." Fowler seems innocent of any developing notion of the church as the people of God, about solidarity in working together to advance the coming reign of God.

He says he understands Juliana of Norwich's comment, "All is well! All is forever well," but the bliss that flows from the realization is about his own well-being. The relationship he enjoys with the divine seems not to extend to the body, but rather to a collection of individuals. Though he came to Catholicism as a youthful convert, he seemed never to have embraced a catholic sense of corporate, mystical unity. Rather, he seems to have retained a sort of 19th century Protestant ideal of individualism.

He sees the church and churches as way stations, and suggests that people must "learn whatever we need from whatever source we can, churches included, in order to awaken to our deepest reality." And then move on. He says Catholicism "had much to share and taught me much, but it was at the price of individuation." Later, and briefly, he worked in Methodist campus ministry. However, "United Methodism had now demonstrated that its highest priority is self-preservation."

Fowler is not bitter or angry. He often writes, "In fairness ..." or "it would be unfair to give the impression that ..." He says, "My heart will forever be full of gratitude for what I learned from Christianity. I have, indeed, graduated from it as it is preached." Isn't it odd to think of graduating from Christianity? Even when one dies in sure hope of resurrection, this process of change is rarely viewed as "graduation."

Fowler reports growing beyond the self-rejection that plagued him as a young man. He discovers early on what has remained his true goal, pursuit of "clear and open and blissful union with God."

He does not offer a recipe for self-help, nor a manual for an ailing institution. He has discovered "the simplest fact that everything is a facet of an ultimate One." And how that "came about in one person's life is the story of this book."

This book is a page-turner. He could have as easily written a novel. In fact, his prose is so provocative, his story so engaging, that I hope he will turn his hand to fiction in the remaining years with which the ultimate One will gift him.

In the meantime, I've ordered Fowler's cookbook, Feed Your Soul, published earlier, and wait patiently for him to be attentive to the piece of advice offered in the paragraph above.