A Western Poustinik’s Love for the East
Dr. Joel Barstad, associate professor of theology at Saint John Vianney Theological Seminary in Denver, shared these words at the end of the Vigil service for Lucille Dupuis. He gave me permission to share them with you:
Lucille and I shared a love for the Eastern tradition of the
Church. When we first met, more than twenty years ago, that love meant for me,
primarily, an enthusiasm for the liturgy and iconography of the Slav-Byzantine
churches, as well as a fascination with the mystical theology of the Church
Fathers expressed in that tradition.
Church. When we first met, more than twenty years ago, that love meant for me,
primarily, an enthusiasm for the liturgy and iconography of the Slav-Byzantine
churches, as well as a fascination with the mystical theology of the Church
Fathers expressed in that tradition.
Lucille loved those things, too, but not quite in the same way I
did. She even had to warn me once, and rightly, against making an idol of those
traditions. For her “East” meant something both simpler and more
elusive. She could use the term “East”, for example, not only to
contrast the spirituality of Eastern Christians with the outward, action-oriented
piety of Western Christians, but even to highlight what she admired in the
mentality of the Native Americans she had known and served, a mentality so
different from that of urgency and distraction that surrounds most of us.
did. She even had to warn me once, and rightly, against making an idol of those
traditions. For her “East” meant something both simpler and more
elusive. She could use the term “East”, for example, not only to
contrast the spirituality of Eastern Christians with the outward, action-oriented
piety of Western Christians, but even to highlight what she admired in the
mentality of the Native Americans she had known and served, a mentality so
different from that of urgency and distraction that surrounds most of us.
I think that what she valued most in what she called “the
East” was hiddenness and the slow, patient work of love done in
hiddenness.
East” was hiddenness and the slow, patient work of love done in
hiddenness.
Some years ago when she and I set about creating a website for Our
Lady of Tenderness Poustinia, she chose two short texts to communicate her
vision of the place and what happened there.
Lady of Tenderness Poustinia, she chose two short texts to communicate her
vision of the place and what happened there.
The first was taken from the Prophet Hosea, “I am going to
lure her and lead her out into the wilderness and speak to her heart.”
Certainly, this verse summarizes Lucille’s love affair with the Lord; but that
experience is also one to which she invited us and for which Our Lady of
Tenderness exists.
lure her and lead her out into the wilderness and speak to her heart.”
Certainly, this verse summarizes Lucille’s love affair with the Lord; but that
experience is also one to which she invited us and for which Our Lady of
Tenderness exists.
The second text was a simple, one-sentence description of what it
means to be a poustinik. “The desert dweller, the poustinik, cultivates
his heart until it becomes a garden enclosed, a sacred place where God may
dwell.” To cultivate one’s heart, to become an enclosed garden, to become
a sacred place where God may well — that is the work a poustinik does and for
which a poustinia exists. It is by its very nature a slow and hidden
work.
means to be a poustinik. “The desert dweller, the poustinik, cultivates
his heart until it becomes a garden enclosed, a sacred place where God may
dwell.” To cultivate one’s heart, to become an enclosed garden, to become
a sacred place where God may well — that is the work a poustinik does and for
which a poustinia exists. It is by its very nature a slow and hidden
work.
When I met Lucille, I loved the beauty of Eastern liturgy and
prayer and theology, but I did not grasp as clearly as she did the reason for
cultivating such a garden. I cultivated mine because it pleased and delighted
me. She cultivated hers for the sake of the one who had lured her out into the
wilderness and spoke to her there. Her hidden garden of the heart was meant to
please, not herself, but the one she called her Beloved.
prayer and theology, but I did not grasp as clearly as she did the reason for
cultivating such a garden. I cultivated mine because it pleased and delighted
me. She cultivated hers for the sake of the one who had lured her out into the
wilderness and spoke to her there. Her hidden garden of the heart was meant to
please, not herself, but the one she called her Beloved.
Lucille and her Beloved were never selfish lovers who wanted to
keep the garden to themselves. On the contrary, nothing gave Lucille more
delight than when one of us would visit that enclosed space and meet her Lord,
and so become gardeners ourselves, cultivating our own hearts as sacred places
for God to dwell.
keep the garden to themselves. On the contrary, nothing gave Lucille more
delight than when one of us would visit that enclosed space and meet her Lord,
and so become gardeners ourselves, cultivating our own hearts as sacred places
for God to dwell.
The hut of a Russian poustinik has no lock, just a latch to keep
out the wind. Nor was there a lock on the gate of Lucille’s heart. How many of
us, and how often, walked in and out of that gate, whether by visiting her on
the mountain or by picking up the phone.
out the wind. Nor was there a lock on the gate of Lucille’s heart. How many of
us, and how often, walked in and out of that gate, whether by visiting her on
the mountain or by picking up the phone.
Lucille’s hiddenness did not mean that she did not want us to find
her. What it meant was that when we did find her, we discovered something
unexpected and beautiful waiting for us.
her. What it meant was that when we did find her, we discovered something
unexpected and beautiful waiting for us.
Now the Lord has lured Lucille to another place. For most of us
death still looks like a journey into a bleak wilderness, but Lucille looked
forward to it as a voyage to the hidden garden that her Beloved began
cultivating for her long ago, which was reserved for her at her baptism and for
which she longed all her life.
death still looks like a journey into a bleak wilderness, but Lucille looked
forward to it as a voyage to the hidden garden that her Beloved began
cultivating for her long ago, which was reserved for her at her baptism and for
which she longed all her life.
As a blessing for her road, I would like to end with a little
piece of the Eastern liturgy:
piece of the Eastern liturgy:
“In the place of rest which is yours, O Lord, where all your
saints repose, give rest to the soul of your servant; for you alone are the
Lover of mankind.”
saints repose, give rest to the soul of your servant; for you alone are the
Lover of mankind.”
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