Aiguenoire – 30 August 2018 Official Inauguration of the Grande Chartreuse Distillery
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Aiguenoire – 30 August 2018 Official inauguration of the Grande Chartreuse distillery Dear friends of the Carthusian Order, When Saint Bruno arrived in the deserted Chartreuse region in 1084, his presence left such a mark on the area that certain ancient documents refer to the year 1084 as the year the hermit arrived. This may come as a surprise, as where he settled was in the bottom of a valley which was almost inaccessible at that time, and with just a handful of companions, he kept himself very much to himself. How could he have made such an impression on his contemporaries? The same question arises for a recent phenomenon, the completely unexpected success of the film “The Great Silence”. This film was so contrary to all the accepted standards for success it should have scared off the public, and yet the reverse happened. The many reports of the rapt attention it received in cinemas bear witness to how these images struck a chord with spectators. How can this strange consonance be explained? The answer likely lies in three words: Love is eternal. Despite the culture of the ephemeral, human beings cherish a deep-rooted hope for endless, unlimited love, a world where peace and justice, life and respect for all reign... Above and beyond their differences, isn’t this what all political systems dream of achieving? This unrepentant dream, which in a Christian context we call hope, finds a stimulus in this strange building on the mountainside and in the similarly strange life that is led there, apparently separated from the real world. “Apparently”, because it has to be said that a deep invisible link does exist, flowing through entirely unusual channels, but difficult to deny. There is a resonance and therefore a complicity between our life and what humans carry within them. I like to compare the monastery to a communication station on a mountain. Although it is situated so high up, far from the usual hustle and bustle of life, it is to better ensure transmission. Paradoxically, it is in order to connect that it separates itself from the world. It seemingly does nothing and produces nothing, yet we know it fulfils a key mission: it transmits. It doesn't even know itself what it transmits. It is not its mission to know that. It operates according to apparently cold advanced technology, but what it transmits is voice, images and therefore life, emotions, worries, suffering and joy, everything which makes up human life, because at each end of the communication channel there is always a man or a woman. In our case, we are transmitting to God, which may seem more mysterious. We transmit the voice and hope of the world to the One who created it out of love and for love. We nurture this link so vital to the life of the world because this world cannot live without a relationship with He who alone can lead it to its accomplishment. It goes without saying that to fulfil its role, the station on the mountain must be intimately connected both with the world and with God. The link with the world does not present any great difficulty since the Monastery is above all composed of people who share with you all the human condition, with its limits, its woes and its mediocrities. You would be wrong to think that life up there is paradise. It is a paradise in hope, as we believe in the achievement, one day, in a new world, of communion in peace, but this hope is severely put to the test in daily life, as everywhere else. Just like all people, we need to live, and it is far from simple when you are the heirs to a huge building and a large family with 28 members here at the Grande Chartreuse, and 95 in total throughout France. It is sometimes a trying life: with an avalanche, eight fires and two expulsions, we know what it is like to experience hard times. After the Revolution in particular, life at the Grande Chartreuse came close to destitution. And so it was that after two centuries of slumber, the recipe received in 1605 from Marshal François Annibal d'Estrées was suddenly suffused through the Chartreuse liqueurs. This was an astonishing era which a forthcoming book will attempt to recount, keeping as close to historical facts as possible. 130 years passed in a virtual state of sleep in Paris where production was so low that it only left minute traces. 50 years of research then followed before the Revolution with perhaps 500 or 1000 litres produced per year at most. Then came the explosion in the 1850s with a peak in production at around 3 million bottles, all with no publicity at all. This was not without achieved difficulty: a sanction imposed from those in high places, an expulsion and a mudslide, all within the space of one century. It is fair to say that the Chartreuse liqueurs have participated in the vicissitudes of the monks’ lives. The new distillery whose inauguration we are celebrating is already the seventh. Let’s wish it a long life! It has returned to its cradle, because as the countless counterfeit versions produced have shown, Chartreuse liqueur can only thrive in Chartreuse. Its new location strengthens the image I used a few moments ago: the communication station on the mountainside needs a power station at the foot of the mountain in order to function, supplying all the necessary power. The mission of this power station gives it a particular status. The main purpose is not to make a profit. Of course, this has to be part of its mission and is a condition for its survival, but as a means rather than an end, or to put it better, as a service. Without the power station, the station grinds to a halt. Without the station, the power station has no purpose and would quickly cease to exist in turn. Its operation is different to that of the station, and Chartreuse Diffusion is an autonomous company which follows the standard rules of the profession. The distillery has a rather hybrid nature. The monks and lay people work side-by-side here and modernity and tradition rub shoulders - think of the steam-heated copper stills corresponding to the 1605 recipe standing alongside 21st century computer control systems. Then there is the plant room up on the mountain which has kept its secret and its somewhat timeless work that has only been slightly affected by modernity. The brothers continue to handle the sacks and weigh out the plants by hand to make the blends. This has led to a rather particular relationship between up there and down here. This brings me back to my initial thought. I think that there are in fact many who are secretly and even unconsciously happy that we accomplish this silent and slightly covert mission on the mountain. Hope in life eternal does not die easily in the minds of human beings. So the child, Hope, can continue to dream, even when Reason disapproves, and she can hold somewhere in her heart the thought: What if it were true all the same? What if it were true that this life will one day lead to a better world, a world which was told of by the author of the Apocalypse: Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. And he compares this new creation to a wedding. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. I believe that somewhere in human beings, our existence helps to keep alive what seems to many to be a dream. The Chartreuse liqueurs also fulfil this unexpected mission, to remind us of this dream. I believe those selling Chartreuse could bear witness that many consumers do not see Chartreuse as simply a liqueur, but also find in it a distant reflection of the station on the mountainside. Which is why I return to my question in conclusion: what if the madmen on the mountain were not so mad after all? What if ultimately, ultimately, it were true all the same? .