Tag Archives: St. Benedict

On Looking Forward to Easter

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In Matthew’s Gospel, the Resurrection starts off with a bang in the form of an earthquake. It’s the sort of thing that grabs our attention and makes us take notice that something of great significance has happened. After this bang, the narrative in Matthew, not to speak of the other three gospels, is surprisingly quiet. It’s sort of like one of those symphonies that starts with a bold statement and then subsides to build up musical ideas for the long haul. And the Resurrection, far from being over-and-done-with, is an event for the long haul. We’re still hauling, and so is God.

When Matthew tells of the earthquake, we get a sense of Jesus exerting a huge amount of force to break out of the tomb. That would not be surprising. The stone that Joseph of Arimathea put at the opening was heavy enough, but the Pharisees had put a seal on the tomb and posted a guard. One would think it would take something like an atomic explosion to set Jesus free. But that isn’t what Matthew describes here. What Matthew describes is the angel coming down during the earthquake and rolling away the stone to show that Jesus was already gone! Jesus had quietly slipped away to begin his resurrected life before anyone knew anything had happened.

St. Benedict’s admonition to spend Lent looking forward to Easter with joy and spiritual longing has haunted me many times over the years and I have commented on this before. This year, it haunts me more than ever. Does Benedict’s admonition mean that now Easter is here, we don’t need to look forward to it any more? I don’t think so. Benedict introduces his chapter on Lent by saying that a monastic should live a continuous Lent, which means we should look forward to Easter all the time as well. That means that even on Easter Day we also look forward to Easter. This circles back to the notion that Easter is for the long haul.

What are we celebrating in celebrating Easter, and what are we looking forward to in looking forward to Easter? There are many good answers to these questions, but the answer that keeps coming to me is gathering. By the time of his death, Jesus’s disciples had scattered. Only a few women and the Beloved Disciple in John were at the cross. After his Resurrection, Jesus began gathering the disciples, starting with the women who had come to the grave to anoint the body that wasn’t there. Matthew fast forwards to the disciples being gathered at Galilee where Jesus told the women he would meet them. There, he sends them on the mission of gathering all people of all nations. Considering the scattering of people occurring today, that job of gathering is still a work in progress.

The scattering that we see, both in the many wars occurring at this time, and the intensifying racial tensions in the US are much more like a continuation of Passiontide than a celebration of Easter, even when the calendar turns to that day. This should not be surprising because the Passion of Jesus took place on account of a severe resistance to Jesus’ life of gathering. We’re still trying to seal up the tomb to try and keep Jesus there and find ways to keep people apart. Although Jesus has proved to be the ultimate escape artist, Jesus continues to live the resurrected life as the Lamb slain since the foundation of the world, as the Book of Revelation shows us. (Rev. 5: 6) Just as Jesus allowed the religious and political authorities to crucify him rather than commit violence against them, the risen Jesus did not and does not come in violence or vengeance, but comes in self-sacrificing peace and forgiveness. That means that the risen Lord continues to suffer through his members everywhere who are persecuted by those who prefer to scatter. Jesus is the leaven in the bread and the fermentation in the wine served at the altar at every Eucharist to leaven and ferment our lives with his life of gathering.

Unfortunately, pointing out the ways other people try to reseal the tomb seems to be everybody’s blood sport. It is worth recalling that at the Last Supper, Jesus was still dealing with resistance from his closest disciples. It is also telling that, after the Resurrection, when the disciples met with the risen Lord, Matthew says that even then “some doubted.” (Mt. 28: 17) If some disciples still held back from the risen Lord’s gathering of all people, what about us? In the subject of racism, for example, I find myself having to peel away layer after layer of my own racism, as if it were an onion. I suggest that a helpful Easter exercise would be to examine ourselves for the ways we seal the tomb and set up obstacles to the Risen Life Jesus would have us lead. We need more earthquakes that send angels to roll away the stone and remind us that Jesus is alive among us, suffering every time we try to put the stone back. Meanwhile, Jesus remains with us for all time, strengthening us to gather with others and giving us much to look forward to in looking forward to Easter.

On Being a Blessing for All

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BenedictChurchStatue1Abraham’s call to leave his country and kindred has been a monastic trope ever since there was a monastic presence in Christianity. Entering the monastic life does entail leaving behind the life one had been leading up to that time. It is also a venture into the unknown. Reading books on monasticism or even visiting monasteries do not fully prepare one for life after actually entering. The author of Hebrews said that Abraham did not know where he was going and lived “as in a foreign land.” (Heb. 11: 9) The author of Hebrews was not writing for monastics but for a Christian community under pressure. For this author, all Christians have “no lasting city. (Heb. 13: 14) Abraham did not simply turn his back on his family and his culture. God told him that he would “be a blessing” and through whom all families would be blest. (Gen. 12: 3) This would include being a blessing for the family he had left behind. Monks, for that matter remain involved with their families of origin and offer help when it is needed. Benedict himself had left the Roman culture of his time in which we was well-placed socially to enter a new life in which he became a pioneer for many sons and daughters in the millennium and a half since his life.

St. Paul’s prayer that we “may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth” (Eph. 3: 18) is fitting for the monastic quest as we seek to know God deeply through prayer in the Divine Office, in the Eucharist, and in our hearts. It is significant that this deep prayer, even when done individually, is communal as Paul is praying that the whole Ephesian congregation will seek this depth in prayer. Benedict wanted his monastics to prefer nothing to the Work of God. He also wanted his monastics to “run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love.”

The closeness to God gained in prayer is imaged in the vine and the branches in John 15. As a branch clings to the vine, so should we cling to Jesus, keep the Abba’s commandments, and “abide in his love.” (Jn. 15: 10) This image of the vine and the branches is communal as the vine connects us deeply to each of the branches. Indeed, Jesus goes on to admonish us to love each other as we have been loved by Jesus and His heavenly Abba. It is through this love and not from intellectual study, that everything made known to Jesus by his Abba is also made known to us. The comprehending of the breadth and length and height and depth of God is a comprehension, partial to be sure, that comes from the same love that would lead us to lay down our lives for our friends if that should be required of us. In his Rule, Benedict would have his monastics serve one another. This applies to serving at tables, serving the sick, and in general tending to the needs of others.

Although we may be pilgrims and wanderers we, like Abraham, remain rooted in the hope for the city “whose architect and builder is God” (Heb. 11: 10) even as, like St. Benedict, we tend to the community we are called to serve in this life so that we may be blessings for all people.

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My reflections on the Rule of St. Benedict are available in my books Tools for Peace

 

St. Benedict: a Personal Sketch

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BenedictChurchStatue1In his Dialogues, Pope Gregory I said that Benedict could not “otherwise teach than he himself lived.” Taking Gregory at his word, I will celebrate our holy father Benedict by drawing out of the Rule what we can glean about the kind of man he was.

The way Benedict carefully outlined the way the Divine Office should be done, listing what psalms should be done when, shows an ordered man who appreciated discipline and having everything and everyone in place. We see the same care in the way Benedict outlined the daily schedule for a balanced life. However, Benedict showed flexibility when he said that one can rearrange the office psalms if that should be deemed expedient. Although he wanted his monastics to be on time for the office, he cut some slack by allowing them to come before the Venite (Psalm 95) is recited, for which reason it should be said as slowly as possible. Although Benedict disapproved of boisterous laughter, he had a dry wit.

Benedict was anxious about infractions of the Rule such as hording unauthorized possessions. He cut out loopholes by compulsively listing everything he could think of that a monastic might try to keep on the sly, understanding the favorite monastic evasion: “There’s nothing in the Rule against it.” The way he went on about disciplining a dean, a priest, or the prior of the monastery who got puffed up suggests that Benedict had deep fears about what power and responsibility could do to a person. The fearful admonitions to the abbot to remember how accountable he is to God for the misdeeds of his monastics suggests that he was anxious over his own weaknesses and potential for misusing power. For all his exasperation for delinquent monastics, the convoluted nature of his chapters on punishment show the problem to be one for agonizing rather than self-righteous smugness. Punishments should not be vindictive but remedial, ending in reconciliation to the community if at all possible. In quoting the parable of the Good Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine sheep to after the stray he showed a deep solicitude for those who had fallen out of line.

Benedict had a flexible sense of fairness, believing that the abbot should treat each monastic appropriately, cajoling one, and scolding another, depending on the personality. In general, he really cared about the individuality of each person. He made a point of listening to what each member of the community had to say at a meeting, even the youngest person. He also wanted his monastics to share frankly their heavy burdens and ask for relief even if, under some circumstances, that might not be possible.

In general, Benedict had compassion and concern for the weaknesses of other people, surely out of an awareness of his own weaknesses. The weaknesses of the sick were of special care for Benedict and it was important to him that they were properly looked after. He felt the same way about guests who were also vulnerable, especially those who were poor. His concern that jobs be done competently was closely tied to his concern for the care of others, especially the weak. His worries over the abuse of power were motivated at least in part by the need to protect the vulnerable from the fallout of power plays in the monastery.

Late in life, Benedict’s compassionate concern for weaknesses deepened. In the second chapter on the abbot at the end of the Rule, surely a later addition, he quotes Isaiah’s words that the bruised reed should not be crushed and Jacob’s words that he shouldn’t drive his flocks too hard in one day. He warns against rubbing the vessel too hard so that it breaks. While in his younger years Benedict seems to have wanted to be feared at least a little, in the later chapter, Benedict greatly prefers to be loved rather than feared.

In following the first step of humility—to be constantly mindful of living in God’s presence–Benedict lived a recollected life. In this recollection, he sought God’s presence in everything and everybody: the guests, the sick, the tools of the monastery. He believed that both tools and people should be treated as if they were the sacred vessels of the altar. In this practice, Benedict sought to arrive at that perfect love of God which casts out fear with his “heart overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love.”

Respect (3)

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AndrewWashingFeet - CopyThe situation of the cellarer of the monastery providing for people who depend on his solicitude is quite the opposite of the person who approaches God in prayer “humbly and respectfully.” The cellarer himself would be on the other end of the stick on this one. Here is the danger of projecting worldly power on God when God is approached humbly and respectfully. If we picture God as a whimsical potentate who grants favors or withholds them in plays of power the way we do if and when we get a chance, then we slip into playing these power games with people who depend on us. This is precisely what Benedict forbids the cellarer to do. Benedict forbids such behavior because it goes against the Gospel.

St, Benedict famously insists that “all guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ.” Benedict goes on to quote Matthew 25 to emphasize the point. Likewise, the cellarer, in attended to fellow monastics and guests should do the same. Benedict also says that “care of the sick must rank above and before all else, so that they may truly be served as Christ.” Once again, Benedict quotes Matthew 25. “The Lord of all things” whom we approach in prayer with our needs, who is greater than “a powerful man” from whom we might ask a favor, identifies with the humans who approach us in need.

We all have a hard time respecting people in positions subordinate to us, especially if they are needy. We instinctively look down on them because we think we are the ones with something to give or withhold. In other words, were are in the winning position and we like it that way. However, if Christ assumes the “losing” position, and Christ is the King whom we should obey, then we should be obedient to the needs of others in a respectful way. We might say that Christ makes other people respectable even if they have no respectability within themselves. The implication of this, of course, is that we also lack respectability within ourselves and it is Christ who gives us respectability.

The theological principal for saying that a person is entitled to respect just for being a human being is that we are each made in the image of God. That is true, but Christ’s identification with each person in need, and we all are in need in some ways at some times, is superadded to our creation in God’s image. This super-addition is based on Christ’s redemption of us, Christ’s having died for us. Since Christ died for everybody, Christ identifies with everybody. By identifying with each of us, Christ takes the rivalry out of the relationship. The way we relate to one another has nothing to do with winning, with having the upper hand in some way. Christ has leveled the playing field. Christ is focused on the needs of each one of us. That means Christ is focused on our own needs and also the needs of the people we encounter. It is doing what we can with another’s needs and having a kind word when we can’t. (And we often can’t fill another’s needs.) In all this, we participate in Christ’s respect for us, which makes us more respectable than we were.