Back in the early days, back when I was beginning the great
transition of embracing the precepts of the Rule of Saint Benedict and Latin
Rite Catholicism, I brought with me the tools that I picked up during my
education and formation as an Evangelical Protestant minister.
I relied heavily on these skills. I can, looking back, see
how these important skills were conditioned by the theology and practices of my
alma mater, something that was replete with denominational biases.
I had, in all my prior religious education and vocational
formation, never heard of the Benedictine practice that came to be known as lectio divina.
In lectio divina the Sacred Scriptures are not treated as a
text to be studied but rather as the Living Word to be absorbed, internalized,
and lived out in life as a reflection of the Life that is the Living Word. Guido
II, prior of the Grand Chartreuse in the latter part of the 12th
Century, set forth the four basic steps in lectio divina – read, meditate,
pray, contemplate – steps that take us beyond the words on the page for a
personal encounter with the Word within and beyond the page.
I still rely upon those skills taught by the doctorate
holding professors that I sat under during my education and initial formation
as a Protestant minister. I discover though, that at this stage and age in my
life and ongoing spiritual formation, I spend more time in lectio divina where I
encounter the Great Doctor of my soul, than in time spent dissecting and
analyzing the Sacred Scriptures and other wisdom literature.[1]
An intellectual understanding of the written word is a good
thing. Encountering and embracing the Living Word is a much better thing. Personally
encountering and embracing Christ is the golden kernel at the heart and center
of monastic spirituality. The truth of the matter is that encountering and embracing
Christ is the heart and center of Christianity.
The written words of Saint Benedict in the Rule, when approached
as lectio divina, lead me deeper into this reality.
“Behold
the Lord points out the way of life to us by His own fatherly affection. Let our loins then
be girt with faith and the observance of good works, and let us, gospelled,
pursue His paths, that we may be worthy to see Him Who has called us unto His
own kingdom. (1 Thess. 2:12) But
if our wish be to have a dwelling-place in His kingdom, let us remember it can
by no means be attained unless one run thither by good deeds. For, with the prophet, let us ask the Lord, saying to Him:
“Lord, who will dwell in Thy tabernacle, and who will rest in Thy holy mount?” (Psalm
15:1) After putting this question, brethren, let us listen to our Lord showing
us in answer the way to that same tabernacle by saying: “He who lives
blamelessly and does justice; he who speaks truth from his heart; he who has
kept his tongue from guile; he who has done his neighbour no evil and has
accepted no slander against his neighbour” (Psalm 15:2-3): he who has brought
to naught the malignant slanderer the devil, rejecting from his heart’s
thoughts him and his efforts to persuade him; and who has taken hold of his
suggestions or ever they be come to maturity and has dashed them against the
Rock which is Christ.(Psalm 15:4, Psalm 137:9)” [2]
Abbot Benedict instructs me to be ever mindful and to always
look to the Lord’s own example as he shows us the love of the Father for us.
“Behold the Lord
points out the way of life to us by His own fatherly affection.”
We are, this side of the Salvific Event, the recipients of
the very best that the Father could possibly offer us. Everything before this Event
was only signs and types that were fulfilled when Christ proclaimed, “It is finished.”[3]
The Father, through his Son, completed the divine work necessary for the
redemption of fallen humanity. What more, with the exception of Pentecost,
could the Father possibly do to prove his love to us?
God withheld nothing of himself in order to redeem and
restore me from the fallen condition of my own humanity, a condition that I
have yielded to all too often.[4]
In the light of his Offering and Gift, there is a question that I must ask
myself. Am I giving my best to the One that gave his best for me?
The answer to the question, if I am honest with my reply, is
poignant. I cannot reply with a resounding yes. I yet have a long way to go before I can reply to the question with
an affirmative response. I will not delude myself, or anyone else. In being
honest with myself I also think about how the Rule leaves no margin for easy
self-justification that leads to self-righteousness. I cannot claim what I am
not. What I can claim, I will not use to exalt who I am.
The best answer that I can give to the question is “Lord, I
am trying. Have mercy on me a sinner.”
Let our loins then be
girt with faith and the observance of good works, and let us, gospelled, pursue
His paths, that we may be worthy to see Him Who has called us unto His own
kingdom. (1 Thess. 2:12) But if our wish be to have a dwelling-place in His
kingdom, let us remember it can by no means be attained unless one run thither
by good deeds.
I did, at first, have a few misgivings about using this
older English translation of the Rule. I am, despite those misgivings, finding
it refreshing. It has to be read slower and expresses things in a way that
causes me to mull them over in my mind and reflect on what is being said.
Gospelled?
Am I gospelled? Am I deeply immersed in the teaching of
Christ our Lord and model? Am I walking in his sandals today, viewing and
feeling for this world of people as he views and feels for them through his
eyes and heart full of compassion? Am I walking through this life in a manner
worthy of God, a manner that honestly with confidence and assurance validates the
prayer … "into your hands I commend my spirit."
Am I honestly gospelled? Though I have chosen to sit at the Master’s
feet and run thither on the path that leads to life, I admit that I am not
gospelled enough and need more tutoring. There is much yet about me that looks
too much like me, and that gets in the way of others seeing Christ in me.
Abbot Benedict reminds me that faith necessarily responds
with works born of genuine love.
He sees prayer, referred to as the Opus Dei (Work of God) as
the central and primary work of those that enter his monastery. Nothing is to
interfere with this central and primary work.[5]
Praying the canonical hours in the monastery, something that can be historically
traced to the First Century Church, characterizes the lives of those that
follow the precepts in the Rule.
Oblates living in the world are not bound to keep all the canonical
hours. We are, however, encouraged to keep as many of them as we can,
especially morning and evening three days each week, using an approved breviary.
In my Oblate formation at Saint Bernard Abbey, I was directed to follow the
guidelines for Oblates set forth by Saint Vincent Archabbey (pdf available online
for download).
We can easily view prescribed times for structured prayer as
an obligation to perform – something viewed as “supposed to do so I do it.” "Supposed to do and love to do" reside in worlds apart from each other. I am not sure
just when I made the transition from supposed to do to love to do. I am confident
though, that it had something to do with going through a long and dry season
where maintaining the discipline of this precept was poorly lacking.
For, with the prophet,
let us ask the Lord, saying to Him: “Lord, who will dwell in Thy tabernacle,
and who will rest in Thy holy mount?” After putting this question, brethren,
let us listen to our Lord showing us in answer the way to that same tabernacle
by saying: “He who lives blamelessly and does justice; he who speaks truth from
his heart; he who has kept his tongue from guile; he who has done his neighbour
no evil and has accepted no slander against his neighbour”: he who has brought
to naught the malignant slanderer the devil, rejecting from his heart’s
thoughts him and his efforts to persuade him; and who has taken hold of his
suggestions or ever they be come to maturity and has dashed them against the
Rock which is Christ.
Who will dwell for all eternity in heavenly fellowship with
Christ and his saints?
I cannot help but to think of the Parable of the Sheep and
Goats,[6]
that one day the Great Divide will take place, and, until then, we all meet
with our eventual appointments when our physical life has expired.[7]
Abbot Benedict knew the enemy well. He reminds those
enquiring at the door of his monastery that Satan is real and that ours is
indeed a personal spiritual warfare for our soul. He reminds us that our hearts
(appetites and affections) and our minds (intellect and reasoning) are the
battlefield where the war rages.[8]
Eternity is timeless. The closest thing that I can do to
imagine what eternity is like is to look at the starlit sky at night. It goes
until I can see no more. Then, at the point where there is nothing more that I
can see, it continues for infinity. What, in this life, is worth losing
eternity in the peace and fellowship of God? What, in this life, is worth gaining
an eternity completely void of the peace and fellowship of God?
[1] 2
Timothy 2:15
[2] RB
Prologue 20-28
[3]
John 19:30
[4] Psalm
51:5
[5]
Rule 43:1-3
[6]
Matthew 25:31-46
[7]
Hebrews 9:27
[8]
Ephesians 6:10-19
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