Praise God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, with them one.
Through hallowed saints, God’s reflection, as moon reflects the light of the sun.
Blest saints deserve veneration, their honor, our imitation. We pray, with their intercession, in sacred, saintly communion.
Saint Bruno, born year ten-thirty, of noble, ancient family; Cologne, medieval Germany; attended school in that city.
Called to the priestly vocation, so pious, drew admiration. For him, raised great expectation. But, Bruno shunned adulation.
He left his happy family, for France, continuing study. Made priest, he traveled the country, first preaching in obscurity.
He roused deep, simple devotion, love of Jesus, in everyone! His labors’ faithful companion, constant danger, deprivation.
Appointed, next to educate, he shaped young souls, both strong and great. Future Pope Urban and prelates, numbered among his graduates.
He spoke with fellow priest, Raoul, in garden, in hushed vestibule, praised solitude, soul’s precious jewel, ev’n then, when rector at the school.
Bishop Manasses took command, with cunning violence, underhand. When scandals grew, and did expand, alone, St. Bruno took a stand.
‘Twas Bruno led the commission, obtained Manasasses’ suspension. Then, Bruno was picked as the one, to take the Bishop’s place, chosen.
But, Bruno had a different dream, along a contemplative theme. A cloistered life held his esteem, in solitude with God Supreme.
To Robert, the Cistercian, he went. Yet, even there, found discontent! For solitude, his soul was meant. To draw near to God, was his intent.
The hermit life, isolation: To do God’s will, to combat sin. He went forth, with six companions, for priests, and two devout laymen.
He queried “were they all aware of difficulties they would bear?” He spent that whole night deep in prayer, three angels reassured him there.
Priests left their parishes behind, with boundaries closely defined, to guide and guard the souls assigned. A monk’s parish is all mankind!
These seven approached Bishop Hugh, who say, by a dream, their coming knew. Dreamt mountain ranges in full view, where avalanches echoed, too!
Then in his dream, a church arose, and, at its peak, sev’n stars imposed.’ Because of climate, mountain snows, it was a place where no one goes.
Saint Hugh spoke, Bruno’s gladness grew, this all seemed too good to be true. There was no trail, no avenue, but, angles showed the way t o Hugh!
They climbed up higher, toward the ice. The air was pure as paradise. Faced danger without thinking twice, where tiny toeholds must suffice.
They hacked a path, by push and shove, to penetrate the wild, whereof, climbed down dim depths, to light above, they stormed heaven, by force of love!
Amid gigantic rocks amassed, by volcanoes of ages past, now silent, and the silence vast…they reached where Hugh had dreamt, at last!
They reached the place, saw it was good, and on the spot where Hugh had stood, they built a chapel out of wood, where the hermits would embrace sainthood.
They built their huts of alpine spruce, made workshops, gardens, to good use, for holy men to live, recluse, with God alone: the first Chartreuse!
In monastery, thus remote, to God, these monks did lifer devote, the gospel spirit, to promote, and Holy Scripture, their keynote.
There, Bruno led the life he chose, profound contemplative repose. There, note on Paul’s letters composed, read Augustine, and Saint Ambrose.
Oh, cruel surprise; oh, bitter news! The Pope calls, Bruno can’t refuse. He’s off to Rome, bids fond adieus. Landuin was made prior of Chartreuse.
Saint Bruno, with the Holy See, helped write up Pope Urban’s decree, combating current heresy, advancing reform of clergy.
Those orphaned monks, sad tale of woe, shepherd-less sheep, without Bruno, to who their inspiration owes, to be near him, to Rome they go.
Advisor to the Holy See, Bruno saw them infrequently. Arranged quarters in the city, but the ‘cloister’ lacked privacy.
Those six repentant monks contrite, grew homesick from their mountain height, returned, with ardor burning bright. New monks had joined them since their flight!
With Papal politics entwined, “promote father Bruno,” some pined.
Archbishopric, these had in mind, but Bruno once again declined.
In solitude, he longed to be, Pope wanted him in Italy, nearby, to be recalled at need. So, there he built a new retreat.
Another chapel to prepare, mud-covered cabins, forest air. Count Roger, hunting hounds there, caught Bruno in the woods at prayer.
Last, there he stayed, and did reside, till monks gathered at his bedside. “Christ’s in the host” he verified. Professes to the faith, and then he died.
Passed on, the year elev’n-o-one, in pious prayer , contemplation, blest Virgin Mary’s devotion, Saint Bruno, founder, Carthusian.
Praise God the Father, and the Son, and Holy Spirit, with them one, through hallowed saints, God’s reflection, as moon reflects the light of the Sun. Amen
