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Monks and Drunks
At the recent "Monks and Drunks" retreat I experienced a sense of awe and wonder at how God works
in our lives and at the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous that was unlike anything I'd ever
experienced before. I'd like to share a part of this amazing retreat with you.
Friday night, after the introductory meeting, Jerry and I are returning from a walk along the main road
into the monastery, when we encounter a man sitting alone on the steps leading to the monks'
residence. He has gray hair, a gray mustache, and he's a wearing a gray jogging suit with stripes down
the arms and legs. He's a dejected looking figure. He sits hunched on the steps, with his elbows on his
knees. Something about his appearance looks wilted. His reminds me of a weeping willow.
Jerry hollers to him: "How ya doin John?" The mans subdued and quiet answer is: "better." The way
John says "better" gives me the feeling that there is something seriously wrong. We walk up to John,
and I see a look of profound pain and sadness etched on his face.
Jerry has apparently known this man for years. We begin talking to him, and Jerry seems to have an
understanding of his background and what is troubling him. I get the feeling that I should keep my eyes
and ears open, and my mouth shut.
John tells us that he has recently spoken to a man, at the church he attends, whose daughter was
recently murdered. He says the man's daughter was the victim in a high-profile homicide case, and that
she was a former LA Raiders cheerleader and model. He explains that the photographer, who had done
a location shoot with her, is in jail for her murder. John expresses his anger about the fact that her
confessed killer may get off on a legal technicality.
John tells us about the sadness he felt when he looked into the father's face. He says that the father's
eyes were sunken, like two dark holes. He says that when he looked into the father's eyes, it was as if
the man were dead inside. He tells us that he thinks the murderer has claimed two victims: daughter
and father. John speaks with suppressed rage as he describes looking at, and speaking to, the victim's
father.
Jerry then tells me that John's daughter was murdered by a serial killer, two months ago. He says
John's daughter was the third victim in a series of slayings, and that she was killed on December
eleventh in New York.
Jerry and I try to comfort John, in the face of such a horrible and inexplicable loss. Alan and Harry,
returning from their walk along the main road, walk over and join us. Alan asks us what we are doing.
Jerry tells him: "We're trying to get whole." Alan looks at him with a confused look on his face. Then
Jerry explains: "We have a problem. We are trying to deal with the loss of John's daughter." Jerry
explains to them why John is in pain, and they join the conversation. Peter and another man come
down the road and join us. Others join us, and the gathering turns into an impromptu AA meeting on
the monastery steps, with the topic being: "How can an Alcoholic cope with the loss of a murdered
child?"
The love and support offered to John by this group of Alcoholics is incredible. I have the vague feeling
that there is something sacred about this encounter. It's as if a group of us are looking into a great
black abyss, and struggling to find meaning, and trying to make some sense of it. We are facing
questions that men have struggled with all through history. It is a group of Alcoholics seeking God
together, searching for answers together, and comforting one of their brothers. The men are standing
and sitting in a circle, and the presence of God is palpable in that circle.
There are about ten men in our group. All of us, I am sure, feel a sense of inadequacy when confronted
with this man's staggering pain, the horrific situation he has endured, and all the unanswerable
questions that it evokes. It seems to me that the men's silence, in light of not having the answers, is
an act of humility.
One of the Jesuit Fathers comes walking toward us. He approaches the group from behind John,
almost as if on cue. I'm thinking to myself: "Aaha, he'll give us the answer." Harry explains to him what
we are dealing with, and asks him: "How can we reconcile such a tragic event?" The Father has just
returned from seeing a movie called "Dead man walking." The movie, he explains, is about the
relationship between a nun and a condemned death row inmate. He explains how the message of the
film relates to John's situation. I have no idea what he's talking about. He recommends that we see the
movie. He tells us that there are no easy answers, and that he will time need to meditate on the
situation. Having said that, he leaves.
So the issue is kicked back to us Alcoholics to deal with. The group expresses many thoughts and
suggestions. Finally, Harry brings it all back home to the AA program. He suggests praying for those
you resent, and asking God to grant them the things you want for yourself. He suggests that if John
doesn't know what words to pray, he should just tell God that he is praying for this person, and that
God would understand.
Harry suggests a symbolic gesture. He suggests that we give John a group hug and hold the thought
that we are absorbing John's pain, and that the pain is seeping down, through us, into the earth. Also,
we should hold the thought that we are shielding John from the world. Ten grown men surround John
and hug. The feeling at this moment is one of love, support, compassion, and brotherhood. The spirit
that fills this group is indescribable.
Then, each man hugs John individually, offers him words of encouragement, and we go our separate
ways. This is the best AA meeting I've ever attended.
Saturday morning, I'm in the bathroom shaving. Walter walks in and thanks me for mentioning his
sponsor (who died of cancer last year) when I shared at the morning meeting. He tells me that he is
feeling very emotional this morning. I ask him why, and he tells me that his wife's parents were
murdered on Monday. I recover from my shock and disbelief, and I tell him about John's daughter. I
suggest that he talk to John.
Sunday, Walter tells me that he and John had a good talk on Saturday afternoon , when most of the
other guys were in Solvang. In this case John was the old-timer: he had lost his daughter two months
ago, and Walter was the newcomer: he had lost his wife's parents only five days ago. Talk about "One
Alcoholic sharing with another."
The meeting on the steps, and these two men sharing with each other, are the most profound
expressions of the AA fellowship I've ever seen. I see both John and Walter on the last day of the
retreat. I can't say that either of these men look like their pain is gone, but both of them look somehow
better. Something in their eyes is different, and the tense expressions on their faces have softened.
Saturday afternoon I'm having a private meeting with Father Gerald, when he tells me that I am the
fourth man to express to him my concern for John. Saturday night, Father Gerald is called on to speak
at the end of our meeting. He says: "I am amazed at the brotherhood of Alcoholics Anonymous." The
brotherhood that we, as Brothers in the monastery, are constantly striving for: you men have."
I can't think of any higher accolade for our fellowship. The fact that a bunch of selfish Alcoholics could
show this degree of love and compassion, is all the proof I need of a loving God working in our lives.
Clearly, "God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves." I've never been more impressed by
our fellowship. I'm very grateful to have been granted this experience and I wanted to share a part of it
with you.
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