Joshua

Hanukkah, and even Christmas and Easter in a cultural way. But by the time I was six, faith had largely faded from family life; it simply wasn’t something we talked about. Still, my early sense of identity came from my Jewish background, which I believe prepared the soil for my later conversion to the Catholic faith. 

here were, however, consequences to growing up without faith. Being raised in secular modern culture taught me to find worth in things like achievement and productivity. That framework served me for a time. It got me through school, social life, a college scholarship, and into medical school. But inwardly, I longed for a connection to something greater. This showed itself through study, specifically in psychology and philosophy, but in hindsight, it was really a spiritual void that needed filling. In 2023, I took a leave from medical school and moved to Australia to begin a PhD blending philosophy and psychology. Living far from home (and working mostly alone) gave me a lot of time to think. I’m convinced my research on selfhood and meaning mirrored my own inner search. Over time, the questions I was studying – and what I was living – seemed to blur together. I found it harder to focus on my studies. God was drawing me into prayer and inviting me to trust Him more fully. Around that time, I had a deadline for a book chapter but felt completely unable to write. Hoping a change of pace would help, I decided to leave the city for a few days of solitude. Driving through the rural country towns, I was aware of the Lord’s loving presence for several hours. By providence, I came across a podcast on St. Teresa of Avila’s Interior Castle and listened as I drove. Her words gave language to what I had been experiencing over the past few months.

Something had changed after that trip. My inner life became steadier and more joyful. I no longer felt drawn to academics in the same way but felt a pull toward silence and wanted to immerse myself in scripture. I wasn’t yet connected with the Catholic Church, but – through God’s grace – recognized it as Christ’s true church and wanted to be baptized and to be part of a faith community. 

Having been received into the Church – and with my life now simplified – I felt ready to begin a more conscious discernment of where God might be leading me. Living in the rectory and learning to rely on providence taught me a lot about trust and simplicity. Around that time, I had already been meeting with the Abbot for general spiritual direction, and eventually I felt comfortable sharing my growing interest in the monastic life. While these sessions were open-ended, they were fruitful and clarifying. I was able to express how, on one hand, I was grateful for the opportunity to pursue a career in medicine, but, on the other hand, I couldn’t shake this greater draw to follow Christ with my entire self through the contemplative life. The Abbot’s eventual answer was, “Come and see” – and so I did.

I reflected on all that God had done in my life. Then the Abbot’s words came to mind: “God wants you to be happy—do that. He is calling your name from somewhere—find out where. When you can choose life or death, choose life.” It was in that moment that I realized my name might truly be being called, and that following this path might be a matter of choosing life. So I booked in for a three-week observership in July 2025. During my observership, I experienced daily life in the House of God. I found the pattern of life – the Divine Office, obedience through the Rule of St. Benedict, and working alongside others – met my longing for simplicity and communion. And I found that following the daily horarium drew me into an experience of grace that naturally lifted my heart to the Lord. Adjusting to monastic life came with its challenges (e.g., waking at 3:30 am), and it wasn’t a continual spiritual high. However, the experience felt in many ways like a deepening of my conversion. I became more aware that even in moments of spiritual dryness and monotony, small acts of love can bring us closer to Christ’s very own heart. A fond memory of my first observership was taping and packing cardboard boxes in the Eucharistic bread storage house (one of Tarrawarra’s main sources of income is distributing Eucharistic breads to parishes across Australia). The deep sense of fulfilment and joy that I felt as I placed the shipping labels with each parish’s name on the boxes is something I won’t forget. It was a simple but prayerful hidden ministry. 

It was not difficult to say “yes” to the monastic life, because something about it felt quite familiar, as if God had already been preparing my heart with the temperament and desire for a life of Christ-centered ordinariness. It is, no doubt, an unexciting life – but paradoxically that’s what makes it beautiful. Monasticism has been described as a royal road for seeking God, time-tested over 1,500 years. The vows of stability, obedience, and conversion of life; the silence and community; and the central place of the liturgy in the monastic day all seemed to converge into what I had been seeking: a way of following Christ both mystically and concretely through a structured life and environment ordered toward Him. Moreover, to dedicate my life, through hidden fidelity to the Gospel, to the sanctification of the Church is a great privilege. 

Preferring nothing whatever to the love of Christ and following Him with an all embracing “yes” continues to fill me with joy. What inspires me most is knowing that the monastery, above all, is a school of love. As Christ has given me much through His Church – and through the brothers at Tarrawarra who have reflected His love – I hope to return that love by living it.