To serve you (hostess at the Emmaus Monastery, part 1)

By Simone Venderbosch

‘To serve’. One of the sentences written in beautiful curly letters on the beams in the refectory of the monastery. And that’s exactly what I came to do on a hot weekend in August.

This weekend I’m going to do a test run as a hostess. Since I don’t know what it’s like backstage yet, the current hostess and I will be playing together this weekend. This morning I left home rather restless. After a visit to the dentist, I stand by the car and we replenish fluids, I look for an alternative route because there is a traffic jam, I make sure I have a nice playlist and when the car starts up a bit lumpy, my husband decides to throw the jumper cables in the back just to be sure. No, very reassuring this. The first few kilometers I keep a close eye on my car. I check alertly whether the indicators are still functioning, the engine is not getting hot and whether the air conditioning is still working. When everything seems to remain stable, the volume knob slowly goes up and I sing along with the first songs. I can feel the change coming.

This weekend is relatively quiet, says the hostess when I have arrived and am having tea with her. There is a silent retreat group and a few pilgrims come. After the hostess and I have quietly gone through the ins and outs in the living room, I still have a few hours left before I have to take action.

I have been assigned a nice, spacious room, the cloisters are cool and quiet. Not a bad place to be now that it’s so tropically warm everywhere. Gradually, the serenity of the monastery invades my veins. I relax. It doesn’t take long before I doze off.

After setting the table for dinner, it’s time for meditation. I’m a bit shocked when I hear that this will also be part of my tasks when I play a weekend on my own. ‘Huu.. Can I do that? Or actually, do I dare?’ And in a way, I also find it a challenge. And I think back to my motivations for doing this. To contribute, but also to see what it can bring me. What new things am I going to discover or encounter? I let my mind wander in the 20 minutes of silence that follow the hostess’s words. What can I use? Shall I also put on some music when the guests come in? How many times will I ring the bell before the start? Would you be allowed to burn incense here too? Or shall I put flowers?

All kinds of ideas tumble through my head as I sit on the wooden bench and listen to the creaking of the benches and the silence of those present. There is a nice atmosphere in the chapel. The group of people who participate in the meditation have been here for almost a week and you can feel it. What a nice flow they all have. I notice that it calms me down, but at the same time I am afraid that my heartbeat and restless breathing will cloud the fine energy of the group. I just sail along with their cadence and the time is soon up. When she leaves the chapel, the hostess has already taken her steps firmly and seems to have left the peace of meditation on the threshold of the chapel. Let’s get to work.

The retreat guests eat in silence and so I serve the food in silence. It takes some getting used to, but after nodding, smiling and making eye contact for a while, everyone has what they want on their plate and soon I hear nothing but ticking spoons. This is followed by a back and forth between the living room, the refectory and the kitchen to eat, serve and clean up. I notice that this group of people makes me happy and that I enjoy being of service to them. They nod appreciatively as they leave the dining room. And I feel grateful to be here.

It’s half past nine when my ‘working day’ is over. The hostess remains on standby for possibly. so I can take a walk outside. The sun goes down and gives the monastery garden a special glow. I walk slowly and let the sounds, smells and warmth wash over me. In the middle of the forest, there is a circle where I want to sit down for a moment of reflection. As Snow White, I try out different places. But every place has a void behind it and that doesn’t feel good. So I go through the orchard to the water. At the water’s edge, I find the necessary backing and I can surrender to the moment. Here, too, nature swarms in silence. Water spiders are striding across the water, two swans are bobbing motionless in the background and all kinds of insects are at work. New circles are constantly forming on the water surface that fan out over the water. Small circles of insects, some larger circles of fish. They just keep coming and it has the same hypnotic effect as staring into the flames of a fire. It’s still pleasantly warm and I’m getting sluggish and relaxed. I stay until the mosquitoes cause circles on my legs and then slowly saunter back.

Back in my room, I just hoped I’d wake up from my alarm clock tomorrow morning. As agreed, tomorrow I will be responsible for breakfast on my own. Oversleeping is not such a tight plan. But first rest. So that tomorrow morning I may get up fresh as a fiddle, to serve you.

You can read the second part about being a hostess in the monastery here: ‘Ave Maria’

Text: Simone Venderbosch

I love hiking and writing. My hiking stories are personal, simple and descriptive. Sometimes profound, sometimes with a grain of salt. Just the way I am.