From the digital land where a Portly Priest Packs away the Pilsners, a lament: the Abbey of Achel has lost its last monk, and thus the world is poorer by one officially Trappist label of potent potables.
The remedy is clear. The Cistercians of Belgium must attract some new priests. Alas, Belgium is hardly a hotbed of Catholic fervor and people inclined to be of the Strict Observance are few indeed.
If only somewhere in the world was a beer-loving, beer-promoting Rigid Priest with a repeatedly averred inclination to knock about an antique post-Reformation palace with a grand neo-Gothic church in the countryside. Ideally one who’s often been told that the spiritual good of others, if not himself, depends urgently upon his discernment of his true vocation to keeping silence. One at loose ends and in recent need of a new apostolate and new town. Where could we find such a man? Think of the birds one could feed, if not the lambs. It ain’t the Carthusians, but your Deaconette will gladly compromise.
Deaconette C's Blog 