Farewell to Mount Melleray: lamenting the closure of a Cistercian monastery

Mount Melleray Abbey in Co Waterford, Ireland, closed its doors at the end of January – after nearly 200 years of service. It cannot have been an easy decision for the Cistercian order; the remaining monks are set to go to Roscrea, to join forces with their Trappist brethren there. 

I first went to Mount Melleray, in the foot of the Knockmealdown mountains, in 2005; I didn’t really get it at the time, but years later I visited again and I grew to love the place. On the surface, it appeared barren, but scratched, it had a magical quality. It was an oasis in the desert that life can sometimes be; a sanctuary for the bruised and battered, where pilgrims like me could find solace and peace. It was as if the devil was banished to the gates.

I know one man who found exactly what he was looking for at Mount Melleray in the 1950s: Jack Cahill, my grandfather. He was from Castlebar in Co Mayo, and he had a drink problem. My mother told me that after visiting the abbey he turned a corner. He wrote a letter home to his wife (opposite); the first line reads “this place is just wonderful”. It makes one think how many people like him were helped down the years by the humble obedience of good men doing God’s work.

By the time it closed, the community was down to single figures. Will monastic life ever return? As Ireland has become mission ground again, perhaps another order might love the abbey as a new home. The cells in which the monks sleep are beautiful but not luxurious; I know because I lived alongside them on three separate occasions, trying out their way of life. The longest I stayed was seven weeks, but all my stays were special. The monks were welcoming and friendly, as well as often quiet.

In a reflective mood, I found Mount Melleray a glorious place to unite myself with Jesus and Mary. One of my favourite memories is of visiting the monastery on a day trip some years back, during heavy wind and rain. I sat quietly undisturbed in front of a statue of Our Lady for almost three hours, not saying anything. It felt like we were keeping each other company that day. There were no other pilgrims stupid or brave enough to weather the storm through country roads.

I never left Mount Melleray thinking that it had been a wasted trip; I always came away in peace, and with my batteries recharged for the next battle. I wonder where I’ll go now. Maybe Glencairn Abbey, which isn’t too far away on the other side of Lismore. It’s home to the local Cistercian sisters, who must be feeling the loss of their brothers more than anyone else.

Everyone likes to do something special on a Saturday – perhaps to go to the pub and watch a game. Once upon a time that was me, too. But my special Saturdays became Mount Melleray. As long as I got there before 2.15pm to hear the monks chant the Psalms, I was happy. The power in their worship was tremendous. Often I would stay until Vespers, when they would be chanting again. Sometimes they would feed me afterwards, in the guest house. No questions asked, just pure generosity.

One of the rules of St Benedict by which his monks live by is to welcome guests as if they are Christ himself. Mount St Melleray lived up to that every time. It also had a café, where Fr Denis Luke was always available for an encouraging word with a smile on his face; in later years I used to call on Fr Richard for sound advice. I had the privilege of photographing the last ordination at the Abbey, of Fr John – who is now the abbot. I’ll not forget Mount Melleray, and the many monks who have passed through its gates – nor what they did for me and my family. 

Cillian Kelly is an Irish photographer

The post Farewell to Mount Melleray: lamenting the closure of a Cistercian monastery first appeared on Catholic Herald.

The post Farewell to Mount Melleray: lamenting the closure of a Cistercian monastery appeared first on Catholic Herald.