Br. Mark 
Writings of Br. Mark Dohle, OCSO, a monk of Holy Spirit Monastery in Conyers Georgia. Br. Mark is formerly Prior and is currently guestmaster for the Monastery, His writings relate to those he works with in his ministry, particularly the elderly and dying.
The noonday devil (Acedia) and the experience of nothingness
When ask to respond to the invitation to describe the ‘Cistercian charism’ specific to our Order as you desire to live it out in your community? My spontaneous response was this: “I believe that Lectio Divina is at the heart of our charism. Without it, our lives can become too scattered and we can lose… Read More ›
To know all is to forgive all
If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.—1 John 3:20 The proverb “To know all is to forgive all” is something that I have pondered over for many years. From experience, even on some minor happenings in my life, I have found that if angry,… Read More ›
The truly wretched-The hammer and grace of God
“Wretched are those who are vindictive and spiteful.”—Pope Frances Vindictiveness and spitefulness are not something reserved for the few. In my own life I find myself having to deal with these states of being which is a foretaste of hell, I believe. I can always have a ‘good’ and ‘just’ cause for my seeking to… Read More ›
Going against the current of fear
Then Jesus said, “What is the kingdom of God like? And to what shall compare it. It is like a mustard seed, which a man took and put in his garden; and it grew and became a large tree, and the birds of the air nested in its branches. Luke 13: 18-19 There is always… Read More ›
Easter Vigil
Before the beginning there was naught, perhaps something impossible to comprehend, no space nor time, there was not even nothing for that would imply the opposite, something, even speaking of the void does not encompass what the before wasn’t it just was not. Then The word spoken, light, pulsating outward, universe expanding ever faster its… Read More ›
Holy Saturday
Carved into rock the tomb stood waiting, the body wrapped in linen tight with spices; according to Jewish law. A stone rolled before the entrance, within only darkness, silence, that only death can bring, the interior cold the body alone in its inner nothingness The void, the thing feared most, to drop in never to… Read More ›
Good Friday
Long the journey was not from Pilates chair of judgment to the place of the skull, the pain endured however beyond human knowing, body torn with lashes, head deeply wounded by sharp thorns, blood pouring into his eyes, face beaten black and blue beyond recognition, the continued jeering mocking, being spit upon, the soul shattering… Read More ›
Holy Thursday: The Garden
Alone in the garden leaning upon a rock, his followers asleep not understanding what was coming, the shivering in fear the sweating of blood caused by the depth of anxiety, the prayer of surrender “not my will but yours be done”; the kiss of betrayal done in mockery, “hail Rabbi”; the fleeing of the apostles,… Read More ›
Wednesday of Holy Week
Did Jesus understand, did he know the fate, just around the corner stalking him, he was fully human after all, true the Word, yet he did grow in wisdom and knowledge. From what he said the answer seems to be yes, so the day before it began perhaps his soul was already sweating blood long… Read More ›
Tuesday of Holy Week
There is an inner coldness, A deep emptiness that comes upon me this time of the year, Perhaps it is the radiating darkness From the occupied tomb of Holy Saturday, An ending known, The ending of us all A tomb waiting after our own passion, Ending in the bleakness of death. Beyond that day of… Read More ›