Make Me A Straighter Board (Conversatio Morum)

The idea that modern Catholics do not read and study the Holy Scriptures is a terribly misconceived notion. We are, in fact, exhorted to read and study the Bible. “The Church forcefully and specifically exhorts all the Christian faithful … to learn the surpassing knowledge of Jesus Christ by frequent reading of the divine Scriptures. Ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ.”[1]

A group of Catholic faithful meet in the hall at our small Saint Robert Bellarmine parish every Tuesday evening following Mass for Bible study. The study is specific, pointed, and directed. We are there to study the Scriptures readings that will be part of the upcoming Sunday Liturgy.

Our teacher, a biblical scholar[2], comes to us via our satellite connection. He takes us through the readings to help us internalize and integrate the Scriptures in a way that honors Saint Paul’s exhortation to Timothy. “Remind them of this, and warn them before God that they are to avoid wrangling over words, which does no good but only ruins those who are listening. Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved by him, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly explaining the word of truth.”[3]

The Old Testament and Gospel Scripture texts that we studied last night came from Sirach and Luke.

Sirach was written by a Jewish scribe who lived in Jerusalem in the early third century BC.  His name was Jesus, son of Eleazar, son of Sirach.  He is often called "Ben Sira."  The book has taken several different titles including "The Wisdom of Jesus Ben Sira" and "Liber Ecclesiasticus" (Church book).  Ben Sira wrote in Hebrew, but his grandson later translated the book into Greek.  The Hebrew of Sirach was lost about a thousand years ago, but in the late 19th century and early 20th century Hebrew fragments of Sirach were found which comprise about two-thirds of the book. 

Sirach is a deuterocanonical book of wisdom literature. Deuterocanonical is a big word. It is used to describe sacred books or literary works that form a secondary canon.

Most modern Bibles used in the majority of the Protestant arena no longer include the deuterocanonical books. This was not the case in 1611 when the King James Version was first published. The deuterocanonical books were part of the original KJV.

When a sieve is shaken, the refuse appears; so do a person’s faults when he speaks.

The kiln tests the potter’s vessels; so the test of a person is in his conversation.

Its fruit discloses the cultivation of a tree; so a person’s speech discloses the cultivation of his mind.

Do not praise anyone before he speaks; for this is the way people are tested.[4]

The Gospel reading says,

“He also told them a parable: Can a blind person lead a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit? A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone who is fully qualified will be like the teacher. Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Friend, let me take out the speck in your eye’, when you yourself do not see the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye.

No good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit; for each tree is known by its own fruit. Figs are not gathered from thorns, nor are grapes picked from a bramble bush. The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good, and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks.” [5]

My first inclination, as we watched and listened, was to immediately start weighing others on the balance scale. My first inclination was, however, abruptly cut short. In the depths of my heart, listening with the ear of the heart, I had to hang my head with the realization that it is not others, but myself, that I need to keep on the scales. Finding fault in others is not my responsibility. Searching my own heart and soul is my responsibility.

Do I truly see and understand clearly? Do I resemble Christ in all of my thoughts and actions toward others?

I have to continually remind myself that it is the log in my own eye that I need to first be concerned with before trying to help others with the splinters (or logs) in their eyes. I have to keep reminding myself that it is me, and my own fruit, that I need to be focused on, inspecting, and testing. I cannot forget that it is cultivating the condition of the soil of my own heart that I must continually remain attentive to lest the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart betray the confidence and expectation that the Teacher places on me as one of the least of his disciples.

I am reminded of something that a dear old Protestant preacher of fond memory said to me. He was not an eloquent man, but he had a lot of wisdom. He asked the question, “Do you know the best way to prove that a board is bent?” Then he immediately answered the question saying, “Lay a straight board down beside it.”

Conversatio Morum, continual … ongoing … ever deepening … conversion of heart is both a calling and a challenge. I can neglect it. I can deny it. Or, far better, I can yield to it, grow in grace, and thank God for the Light that makes his way into the dark spots of my heart to show me where I yet have room to grow in my own modeling of Christ.

As we watched and listened, I could not help but to think about something that is familiar to those of us that read and attempt to live by the precepts contained in the Rule of Saint Benedict.

Let us do what the Prophet says: "I said, I will take heed of my ways, that I sin not with my tongue: I have set a guard to my mouth, I was dumb, and was humbled, and kept silence even from good things" (Ps 38[39]:2-3).  Here the prophet shows that, if at times we ought to refrain from useful speech for the sake of silence, how much more ought we to abstain from evil words on account of the punishment due to sin.[6]

Lord, straighten out the remaining twists in my own grain and make me a straighter board. Amen

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[1] Catechism of the Catholic Church, #133, p.43

[2] Brant Petri, www.BrantPetri.com , The Mass Readings Explained

[3] 2 Timothy 2:14-15

[4] Sirach 27:4-7

[5] Luke 6:39-45

[6] HR 6:1-2

Living The Rule - Chapter 1

An additional explanatory note is necessary regarding the text of the Rule of Saint Benedict being used in these reflections.

My first encounter with the Rule of Saint Benedict, before becoming an Oblate at Saint Bernard Abbey, was the translation known as the RB 1980, © 1981, Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota. Before quoting from it extensively … effectively using it in its entirety over the course of these reflections on Living the Rule … I felt it important to inquire of the copyright owner for permission, including permission to use brief quotes from it in other random blog articles. 

Permission to use the text of the RB 1980 was not granted. I could, instead, pay an annual usage fee to use the text.

As Oblate Reflections is not something being used as a means of monetary gain, nor will this blog ever be monetized in any direct or indirect way (with suggestive ads by questionable sources), I respectfully declined the annual usage fee suggested by the copyright owner.

The text of The Rule, used in my reflections on the Prologue, came from an open source translation that was done in England in the 1930’s. Going forward with the rest of Living The Rule, I am using the text of The Holy Rule of Saint Benedict, 1949 Edition, translated by Rev. Boniface Verheyen, O.S.B., Saint Benedict’s Abbey, Atchison, Kansas. This translation is Public Domain and, for those interested, may be downloaded in pdf format. This translation is also clearer and easier for modern readers to read than the earlier one. When referencing quotes from the text of this 1949 Edition, footnotes will be designated as HR for Holy Rule rather than RB which could be misconstrued to mean RB 1980.

Leaving the Prologue, we now continue with Chapter 1 of The Rule.

“It is well known that there are four kinds of monks.

The first kind is that of Cenobites, that is, the monastic, who live under a rule and an Abbot.

The second kind is that of Anchorites, or Hermits, that is, of those who, no longer in the first fervor of their conversion, but taught by long monastic practice and the help of many brethren, have already learned to fight against the devil; and going forth from the rank of their brethren well trained for single combat in the desert, they are able, with the help of God, to cope single-handed without the help of others, against the vices of the flesh and evil thoughts.

A third and most vile class of monks is that of Sarabaites, who have been tried by no rule under the hand of a master, as gold is tried in the fire (Prov 27:21); but, soft as lead, and still keeping faith with the world by their works, they are known to belie God by their tonsure. Living in two's and three's, or even singly, without a shepherd, enclosed, not in the Lord's sheepfold, but in their own, the gratification of their desires is law unto them; because what they choose to do they call holy, but what they dislike they hold to be unlawful.

The fourth class of monks is that called Landlopers, who keep going their whole life long from one province to another, staying three or four days at a time in different cells as guests. Always roving and never settled, they indulge their passions and the cravings of their appetite, and are in every way worse than the Sarabaites. It is better to pass all these over in silence than to speak of their most wretched life. Therefore, passing these over, let us go on with the help of God to lay down a rule for that most valiant kind of monks, the Cenobites.” [1]

Abbot Benedict draws examples from the well of historical Christian monasticism over the early centuries to remind me that there will always be lesser ideals in the realm of choice. With all the voices in the modern world shouting “this is the way”, there is great value in listening to the wisdom of the ages. A lot has changed over the centuries. Human nature, however, has not changed. The values contained in The Rule are as important today as they were when Saint Benedict collected and simplified them into this concise document that, like the Sacred Scriptures, has withstood the test of time.

This short chapter, on the four kinds of monks, starts and ends by mentioning the Cenobites. It is as though Abbot Benedict is using the word “Cenobite” as bold parentheses to surround, contain, and emphasize the importance of what he is saying to those inquiring at the door of his monastery. He is saying, “So you knock at the door inquiring about becoming a monastic, here are your choices. Choices have consequences. Choose wisely.”

The fourth group mentioned are referred to as Landlopers. Other texts of The Rule call them Gyrovagues – a class of monks that spent their lives as vagabonds, vagrants, or land-runners. They were always on the move, panhandling as they went, and essentially sponging off the labors and goodness of other monks. They looked the part. They dressed the part. But they were not truly representatives of the monastic ideal.

Remoboth and Sarabaites are names given to associations of hermits in the early Church who refused to submit to monastic regulations. The Remoboth, whose name originated in Syria, are mentioned as belonging to this class of monks by Jerome in the 4th Century. Jerome tells us that they were more numerous than other monks in Syria and Palestine. This class of monks lived independently in the towns in small groups of two or three persons. They worked and supported themselves and were known for quarreling among themselves. Cassian, from the same period, mentions a similar class of hermits (Sarabaites) living in Egypt that shunned spiritual authority and discipline. These, too, looked and dressed the part but failed to represent the ideals of Christian monasticism.

Saint Benedict gives honorable mention to the anchorites. He does, however, establish some strict parameters that qualify what it takes to successfully fulfill the rigors involved in living as a genuine religious hermit.

I cannot read this chapter of The Rule without being reminded of the extreme importance of spiritual authority, discipline, and community – three essential elements that support everything else that is Benedictine. Not only Benedictine, but everything that is genuinely Christian and, indeed, of the Church. There is no real and viable way to determine and measure personal responsibility and accountability without submission to established spiritual authority, discipline, and community. These essentials … spiritual authority (Abbot or Abbess), discipline (The Rule), and community (brother monks or religious sisters) … are present within the context of monastery or convent.

I do not, as an Oblate, live in the monastery. I am, in fact, 350 miles from my monastery. How do I best duplicate, as closely as possible, the same essential spiritual authority, discipline, and community relationship that respects and integrates the values contained in The Rule?

My personal experience is that the best way, first off, is through avoiding anything that remotely resembles the behavioral characteristics of the modern day versions of Landlopers and Sarabaites that will cause me to be soft as lead, keep faith with the world by my works, and belie God by tonsure or any other outward sign that misrepresents the condition of my interior character and a true interest in living the ideals of monastic Christianity.

I have to stand guard against being drawn into the little clusters of twos and threes that are always around and are always ready to justify behavior that is less than the behavioral ideals expected of me by the values established in The Rule … little clusters that will always be divisive and work to undermine genuine established spiritual authority … little clusters that erode and disrupt the peace, harmony, and greater good of community.

The Benedictine value of stability comes into play. I have to stand guard, as well, against the invitation to follow the rovers that that are always looking for something better and never settle in to become willing and active participants in the give and take rub of community.

I have a very real reclusive hermit side. I thrive on solitude and need long breaks from what Shirli and I refer to as “peopling.” Peopling honestly wears us out. Making this confession is not in any way meant to brandish anyone. It is simply that we need time, perhaps more time than a lot of others, to recharge our batteries. We are not, however, by any means or measure, Anchorites. Nor do we personally know anyone that truly measures up to Abbot Benedict’s qualifications for Anchorites.

Personally, I would not want to be put into a position where I had to cope single-handed without the help of others. I have tried it. It did not take long for me to discover that I am no Anthony of the Desert. Coping single-handed is a hard way to go. Little by little, in my experience, the enemy wears us down. Little by little, in my experience, we begin to more and more resemble the Sarabaites and Landlopers. Little by little, in my experience, we are drawn farther from Christ until we are standing deprived and vulnerable at the edge of darkness, while justifying ourselves all the while.

I will dare say that there is not, for the vast majority, a viable substitute that can replace the support that we receive from spiritual authority, discipline, and community.

Active parish life provides us with these three essential elements. Especially in a small parish such as the one we are part of where personal involvement generates a lot of close personal contact with others. We need an active parish life as individual Christians. I need an active parish life as an Oblate living outside of and a long way away from my monastery. Structured spiritual authority is in place to provide spiritual direction and leadership. Established Church structure is in place to provide discipline. Community is in place to provide the relational rub that encourages us to walk in grace, extend grace, and grow in grace.

Without these three essential elements at work in my life as an Oblate of Saint Benedict, I would be just another Sarabaite or Landloper in the realm of Christianity where there are already too many in the ranks of these classes.

---

[1] HR Chapter 1

Living The Rule - Prologue 45-50

Change is a hard thing to accept.

Especially the social norms that seem to be happening in our times at breakneck speed – changes that reject the norms for human behavior that are rooted in living in a way that respects God’s expectations of who we are created to be.

I find it easy to point my own finger of accusation toward the world, the ways of the world, and those that follow it and its ways. 

It is easy to see the problem with humanity as something that is “out there”. A lot of it is “out there”. There is wisdom in being able to see the world and its ways for what they are. There is wisdom in being able to see the how the enemy of our souls is doing a great job working both behind and within the scene to rob souls of their divine qualities in this life and to bring them to eternal destruction beyond this life.

There is wisdom, too, in realizing that this enemy has not occupied himself only outside the camp.

From the beginning of the Salvation Event, he set himself against Christ[1], against truth in the Early Church[2], and his diabolical activity has never abated. It will not abate until the day he is consigned to the pit.[3] Until that consignment, and as long as we are on this side of the transparent veil, we will not know a day where he is not using his deceiving and deluding tactics to steer us away from Christ and the deposit of faith held dear and guarded by the Church.

It is altogether another thing to look within the world of my own interior being where my own personal battle against the enemy of my soul is daily fought. It is easy to look “out there” and critically diagnose the ills of the world. It is not so easy to look “in here”, see these same ills at work within my own personal interior complex in one way or another, and take the necessary gradual steps in grace to improve the state of where (who) I am as an individual in the grace of God.

I have, over the course of my life as a Christian, availed myself to numerous “spiritual programs” that were designed to assist me in improving my spiritual condition. I cannot fault any of them. However, viewed as a program for spiritual development, the precepts contained in the fifteen-hundred year old Rule of Saint Benedict outweighs and outlasts any of them in personal value.

The Sainted Abbot concludes the Prologue to the Rule with these words.

“We have therefore to establish a school of the Lord’s service, in the institution of which we hope we are going to establish nothing harsh, nothing burdensome. But if, prompted by the desire to attain to equity, anything be set forth somewhat strictly for the correction of vice or the preservation of charity, do not therefore in fear and terror flee back from the way of salvation of which the beginning cannot but be a narrow entrance. For it is by progressing in the life of conversion and faith that, with heart enlarged and in ineffable sweetness of love, one runs in the way of God’s commandments, so that never deserting His discipleship but persevering until death in His doctrine within the monastery, we may partake by patience in the suffering of Christ and become worthy inheritors of His kingdom. Amen.” [4]

The School of Saint Benedict is not an easy school. 

The Abbot makes that clear to those knocking on the door of his monastery. It is a difficult course. It is especially difficult when we transfer to it from schools of thought and patterns that justify and accommodate much more lenient standards of conduct. It is easy to see The Rule as harsh and burdensome when we are accustomed to flying by the seat of our pants and looking for ways to justify ourselves and our behavior. Though difficult, it is not a school to be afraid of if our honest intention is to grow and develop in grace.

Equity is an interesting word. It has to do with the quality of being fair and impartial. It has to do with equality.

Equity … equality … is easier to achieve within the monastic enclosure than it is in the world outside the monastery. It is, in fact, a major stumbling block in a world that places so much value and emphasis on individualism and personal ownership. We are groomed by the social standards imposed on us - standards that, more often than not, fail to take into consideration the insidious impacts of pride and greed. These social standards, even when we recognize them for what they are, make it increasingly more difficult to cut ties and attachments to the world’s way of going about life with its constant emphasis on status symbols defined by adjectives such as bigger, better, shinier, and newer.

The strictness in The Rule is there for a reason. 

The reason is a simple one – to keep base human nature from dominating and ruining the greater good. Individual lives are ruined when base human nature is in control. No community can long survive without strict standards of moral conduct. By setting boundaries that keeps base human nature in check, charity is not only preserved but has an opportunity to flourish. Establishing and protecting an environment where charity can flourish is as important outside the monastery as it is within the monastery. It is also a lot more challenging outside the monastery where the social standards of the world are always encroaching.

In thinking about the strictness built into The Rule, I cannot help but to think about something that Christ said. “Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few.”[5]

The Rule will not allow me to become self-satisfied.

It will not allow me to accept complacency as something normal. It will not allow me to see where I am in my conversion experience as an end. It is always calling me to continue progressing in conversion. I have to remain open and willing. I have to keep listening and paying attention. I have to keep doing the things that The Rule teaches me to do. I have to remain committed to the spiritual development process as long as I have the faculties to choose. Progressing in conversion (conversatio morum) is the only remedy for complacency that soon begins to take on the characteristics of a lifeless stagnant pond.

What is the point of such a spiritual program? Why do men and women enter into monasteries and become monks and religious sisters? Why do people sense a calling to make Solemn Promises to the Oblate Vocation? Why do people lay down their lives and submit to the rigors of The Rule?

The point of it all is to simply learn to love God in everything.

Archabbot Benedict Baur, O.S.B., sheds some light on the point of it.

“Fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, life’s unfolding. But fulfillment rests in love. Love alone makes it possible to forget everything else and offer ourselves entirely to God. Love makes God all-in-all to us, the sun around which we revolve. Love directs our thoughts and intentions to God. It enables us to see Him in everything, to meet Him in everything, to hear His voice in everything, to live with Him in all things and relate everything to His will. Love enables us to dedicate all our wishes and desires to Him, turning from all other allegiance and even subordinating our natural human affections and our work in His service. It forces us to look first to God in all things, raising us above self-love and human frailty. It makes us strong to accept the trials and tribulations of daily life with quiet resignation, indeed, with grateful joy.”[6]

We do it simply for the love of God.

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[1] Matthew 4:1-11

[2] 2 Corinthians 11:13-15, 1 Peter 5:8

[3] Revelation 20:7-10

[4] RB Prologue 45-50

[5] Matthew 7:13-14

[6] Benedict Baur, O.S.B., Archabbot of Beuron, In Silence with God, Scepter Publishers, © 1955, p. 32

Embracing Poverty

Poverty is not something that most people living above the poverty line want to think about. It certainly is not something that the middle and upper class aim for as a goal in their personal plans and financial portfolios.

It is easy to look at those living below the line and espouse the notion that all they have to do is do something with themselves to climb up and out of poverty. Some, a rare few, manage to make a social status move but they are exceptions. The truth of the matter is that overcoming poverty is not as easy as simply applying that notion. A lot of social and economic factors build the steep and slippery sides of poverty that are not easily scaled.

It is also easy to close our eyes to the reality of poverty, pretend it does not exist, and ignore it altogether.

Here, in the United States, over forty million people live below the poverty line and, with some exceptions, qualify for aid from assistance programs. Another ninety-five million live just above the poverty line where that “just above” disqualifies them for aid through assistance programs even though making ends meet is more than a challenge. The hard reality is that those living in poverty, and those living barely above poverty, make up one-third of the population of this country. The row is a hard and long one to hoe for the one-third down at the bottom of the social class pile.

Circumstantial poverty is an unavoidable reality even here in the richest nation in the world. There are a lot of poor people. Some are able to manage their social class status better than others, while others choose personal behavior patterns that sadly complicate the hardship conditions already imposed by poverty.

The global poverty statistics are not only eye-opening but honestly heartbreaking. It is hard to starve to death in this country. The same is not true in numerous countries around the world where, despite all the wealth in the world, thousands are literally starving to death … some dying from starvation in the length of time it has taken to keystroke the few words in this one paragraph. Just short of 600 million … roughly two times the population of the United States … abjectly impoverished human beings live (if you can call it living) in dire conditions on less than two dollars a day.

I cannot help but to think of what Jesus said about poverty when his disciples confronted him over what they perceived as wastefulness when a woman anointed his feet with the contents of a jar of expensive ointment. “For you always have the poor with you.”[1] The poor are with us. Some of us are the poor. Some of us, daily, are becoming the circumstantial poor.

I remind myself that poverty is not a communicable disease transmitted by mosquitoes or human contact. Poverty is a social condition – an unavoidable social condition for multiplied millions of human beings.

I never gave much thought to the personal realities associated with circumstantial poverty during most of my working life. The realities began to press upon me when I started considering the shape that life would take once I reached “retirement” age. How would I (not just me, but Shirli and I as a married couple) live once age and a small fixed income became the determining factors that hemmed us in. It was obvious that we could not keep physically and emotionally pushing and punishing ourselves to maintain a delusional “appearance” of some level of middle class living that was nothing more than an illusion of success.

Confronting the looming reality head-on set me up for a head-on collision with pride related issues within my own self-complex. Pride is a tough piece of meat to chew. The more you chew it, the bigger it gets. The bigger it gets, the harder it is to swallow. Even after finally initially getting it down, situations come along that cause it to be regurgitated and the chewing/swallowing process starts again. What a mess I am when it comes to this first named culprit on the list of capital sins.

Chosen poverty is another matter altogether. Chosen poverty is willingly and willfully giving up the right to accumulate and possess material things.

Benedictine monks and religious sisters profess vows of obedience, stability, and conversion of life. Other monastic traditions profess vows to the Evangelical Councils of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Although not specifically named in the Benedictine vows, poverty and chastity are inherent in and an important part of Benedictine monastic life. The Evangelical Councils are intended to remove anything that is incompatible with charity. They manifest the living fullness of charity, which is never satisfied with not giving more.[2]

How does the Council of poverty apply to Oblate life outside the monastery?

“Although the concrete practices of the Rule may, in many cases, no longer apply to today's monk or Oblate, the values expressed in the particulars of sixth-century Benedictine life are of critical value today.  Hospitality, reverence for God's creation, balance in daily life, patient allowance for human limitations, prayerfulness in all activities, the sacredness of the meal, the need for good order, and the struggle against greed, for example, are no less essential for 21st-century Christian life than for monastic life in St. Benedict's time.”[3]

“Although many practical details of the Rule may seem harsh to the modern reader, they embodied a spirit of great moderation in St. Benedict's day.  In fact, St. Benedict has been known as a master of moderation, and the Rule has often been praised for its promotion of sensible moderation.”[4]

The Rule of Saint Benedict, in conjunction with the Council concerning poverty, forces me to reckon with another of the Capital Sins – Avarice (Greed).

Avarice is the inordinate love of having possessions or riches.

It is easy to be motivated by greed and to discover a preoccupation with having and accumulating more than I honestly need. It is easy to attach value to wealth and possessions. It is easy to measure our personal value by material possessions and to use our perceived personal worth as a measure of the worth of others. Greed comes in different forms. Some are greedy with material things and hold on tightly to what they have. Some are greedy with time and only do what will benefit them in some way. Some are greedy in their relationships and go about collecting people for status or use people for their own advantage. Greed easily hardens hearts and blinds eyes. It has a tendency to lead people on the pathway of self-sufficiency, complacency and independence of God.

Life has changed drastically for us now that we are retired and living on a small fixed income.

Like so many of the other one-third, we were never able to stack up a retirement account that would grant us any amount of livable flexibility in our old age. I started two retirement accounts during my working life. Financial needs required cashing them out before they had a chance to turn into anything significant. Shirli and I, in our sixteen years of marriage, have not been afforded the good fortune of building a retirement account for our old age. Our small fixed income comes to us in the way of our Social Security benefits.

We anticipated the change and did some serious downsizing that would accommodate the financial adjustment that would be necessary to embrace living as comfortably as possible as genuinely poor senior citizens on our small fixed income. It was not easy. A lot of emotions were involved. A lot of attachments to things had to be broken. A whole new outlook had to be embraced. As Shirli puts it, “We are embracing our poverty.”

The physical and emotional nature of downsizing is very doable. It is difficult but very doable.

Ours involved a five-year plan that, twenty-eight months ago, saw us turn the key in the lock on all that was behind us and begin all that was (and is) ahead of us here at our tiny hermitage-like cabin where the entire spectrum of our lives – physical, emotional, and spiritual - has been revitalized and changed for the better. We have a lot less materially and financially. Yet, despite having less, we appreciate and enjoy life more fully. We have the most important things in abundant supply … family, children and grandchildren, friends, and an especially close group of close friends that we call our Tribe. We have faith in God and a beautiful, warm, and loving parish family that we are part of. Our needs are met.

There is another element that has begun to emerge as a product of having less. By downsizing our lives materially and financially, by having to live within this narrow margin of means, we are beginning to honestly understand the trials and difficulties faced by millions of others that are struggling to simply survive. We are no longer looking down on those in poverty and feeling sympathetic for their social class dilemma. We are now looking them in the eyes and feeling with them.

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[1] Matthew 26:11

[2] Catechism of the Catholic Church, #1973, #1974, p. 533

[3] Oblate Formation Booklet, Saint Vincent Archabbey, Revised 2013

[4] ibid

Living The Rule - Prologue 35-44

The Rule of Saint Benedict, as a practical guide to living life as a Christian, keeps me on point.

I need to be kept on point.

It is altogether too easy for me to wander aimlessly. It is altogether too easy for me to find myself caught up in, sidetracked, and derailed by the myriad issues and controversies that fill the world … both outside the circle that delineates the Church from the world and, sadly, inside the circle as well. It is altogether too easy for me to allow myself to become inflamed and consumed by the embroiling issues and controversies that are constantly vying for my attention and time – attention and time that are better, and more fruitfully, invested in the ora at the heart of the Benedictine monastic vocation and the supportive labora that compliments this way of life.

The world will always do what the world does. People will always do what people do. Staying on point keeps me from getting caught up in all the messes that would otherwise pull me away from the separation and detachment inherent in monastic spirituality.

Separation and detachment are necessary in creating an environment for discerning our spiritual condition. Without them we are unable to see things as they really are. Without them conversatio morum – conversion of life is drastically impeded. It is important to view separation and detachment not as personal deprivations but as liberations that create more room for God to fill … room where the still quiet voice of God can be heard with the ear of the heart. It is here, in separation and detachment, where we begin to truly realize that less is more and make concerted efforts to seek the More who calls us to this way of life.

Is this “seeking the More”, this giving up in order to attain, not the very heart of Christianity and ongoing conversion of life?

The Apostle Paul certainly thought and stated so. “Indeed I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as refuse, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own, based on law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith, that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that if possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”[1]

I was at a major turning point when I discovered Saint Benedict and his Rule shortly after the turn of the Millennium. I discovered in it the antidote that I needed to counter the complacency and false-self-centeredness that had become part of my “modern” Christian experience. I find this antidote even more important now that I have so much less sand left in the hour-glass that measures the length of my time on this side of the transparent veil.

The Sainted Abbot, as he begins to wind down the Prologue to his Rule, continues with these lines.

 “As a consequence our Lord daily looks for it that we should respond by deeds to these His holy warnings. Thus it is on account of the need of correcting faults that the days of this life are prolonged for us, as by way of truce; and the Apostle says: “Art thou ignorant that the patience of God leads thee towards penitence? [Romans 2:4]” For the Lord in His tenderness says: “I will not the death of a sinner, but that he may be converted and live. [Ezekiel 33:11]” Since therefore, brethren, we asked of the Lord concerning the dweller in His tabernacle, we have heard, as a precept concerning dwelling there, “if we fulfil what is required of a dweller there.” Therefore must our hearts and bodies be prepared as about to serve like soldiers under holy obedience to these precepts; and whatsoever our nature does not make possible let us ask the Lord to direct that the help of His grace shall supply. And if we wish to escape the pains of hell and attain to eternal life we must hasten to do such things only as may profit us for eternity, now, while there is time for this and we are in this body and there is time to fulfil all these precepts by means of this light.”[2]

I cannot sit comfortably with some kind of easy beliefism that diminishes the Lord’s expectations of me.

That the Lord is daily watching and observing my responsiveness is something that I cannot ignore. I cannot allow myself to forget that records are being kept, records of not only my willingness to accept the gift of salvation that he paid for with his own suffering and blood, but also of my deeds in response to his teachings.[3] [4]

Faults are ever with me.

Benedictine conversatio morum is a process that, as it is occurring and as I am advancing in my conversion, will not allow me to grow complacent. Though it reveals my positive progress, it also continually reminds me that, though I have gotten to where I am from where I started, I am yet in need of further and deeper conversion. God does not desire my eternal destruction. Through his grace he reveals his will and plan for my life. Through his patience, referred to by Abbot Benedict as a truce, he allows me time to amend my faults and ready myself to meet him.

Benedictine monasticism is a regulated life. There are requirements to be met. Those looking for an unregulated Christianity that allows them to fly by the seat of their pants need not look to Saint Benedict and the Rule for encouragement or support.

Brothers and sisters living in monasteries and convents are required to live lives that are specifically ordered by the Rule. It is practically impossible for Oblates to order their lives in a way that exactly and sustainably duplicates life inside the monastery, especially where meticulously maintaining the Opus Dei is concerned. Our lives do however, through observance of the precepts and moral norms of the Rule within our state of life outside the monastery, begin to take on certain flavorings of Benedictine order and regulation.

Abbot Benedict encourages those struggling with the Rule … those who think living the Rule is an impossible task … to pray and seek God’s grace to help them overcome their weaknesses. He invites those knocking at the door of his monastery to surrender themselves to a life of conscious living. He calls his followers to be ever mindful of the destinations that await beyond the transparent veil. He urges those who come knocking at his door … while there is time … while the warm light of Christ is felt in their hearts … to hurry toward doing only the things that are profitable in eternity.

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[1] Philippians 3:7-10

[2] RB Prologue 35-44

[3] Revelation 20:11-15

[4] 1 Corinthians 3:10-15

Living The Rule - Prologue 29-34

It is hard for me to read the Rule without realizing how “across the grain” it cuts.

These precepts cut across the grain of a world that is diametrically opposed to these precepts, both in the Sixth Century when Benedict lived and in this modern Twenty-First Century where we live. They cut across the grain of nominal Christian thought, both then and now. They cut across my grain, both when I first opened its pages to begin following it and now as I continue to sit under the tutelage of Saint Benedict.

I have come to believe that to take the Rule to heart, and quietly go about living its precepts in a world so diametrically opposed to these precepts, is one of the most radical things that a person can possibly do to counter the effects of the world. These precepts cut at the roots of the egotism that promotes self-inflation and leads to exploitation of and aggression toward others. They cut at the roots of the egotism that promotes seeking personal popularity and power over others.

Abbot Benedict tells me, and I have to continually remind myself, that pride knows how to dress itself in garments that cloak its deceptive nature, both within the monastic enclosure and here in the world outside the monastery where his Oblates go about their lives.

Continually reminding myself of the deceptive nature of pride, and standing guard against it, is especially important where presenting myself as a representative of Saint Benedict and his Rule is concerned. It is imperative where close personal relationships are concerned. It is imperative where open public forums and platforms are concerned. I cannot allow myself to become inflated with pride. Nor can I allow myself to assume and model some sort of false humility that resembles humility but is nothing other than another deceptive garment in the wardrobe of the enemy that he enjoys draping over our shoulders.

The Sainted Abbot continues in the Prologue to his Rule …

Those who fear the Lord are not puffed up by their own good observance of rule, but reckoning that the good that is in them could not be wrought by themselves but by God, magnify the Lord working in them and say with the prophet: “Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to Thy Name give glory.” [Psalm 114:9] Just as also the Apostle Paul attributed nothing to himself concerning his own preaching, but said: “By the grace of God, I am what I am.” [1 Corinthians 15:10] And again the same Paul said: “He who glories, let him glory in the Lord.” [2 Corinthians 10:17] Whence the Lord also says in the Gospel: “He who hears these My words and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house upon a rock. There came torrents of rain and rushing winds, and they struck upon that house, but it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock. [Matthew 7:24-25]”[1]

If something is worth doing, it is worth doing well. We put our whole heart into it, do our best, and continually work on improving our best.

Half-heartedness is a poor way to approach something as pure and valuable as the Christian faith. 

Christ does not call us to be part-time Christians. Abbot Benedict, likewise, does not invite us to become part-time Benedictines. Part-timing, as Christians and as Benedictines, is to build upon sand where the torrential rains and rushing winds are sure to collapse our house. Christ, and Saint Benedict, both knowing the value of building upon bedrock, want their disciples to be fully invested. They assure us that being fully invested equips us to be able to withstand the storms of life that will rage against us. The more fully invested we are, the better able we are to recognize, stand against, deflect, and quench the fiery darts of the Evil One[2] who knows a thousand ways to beguile and deceive us.

A good observance of the Rule is an important aspect of being Benedictine.

Inherent in a good observance is the realization that our accomplishment of any good is only because of the goodness of God working in us. Accolades for our good observance are not due to us. The accolades for our good observance are due to the one who is performing his divine will in us to bring us to completion in preparation for the day when we will stand before him.

I am reminded of something that Merton wrote.

“A humble man is not disturbed by praise. Since he is no longer concerned with himself, and since he knows where the good that is in him comes from, he does not refuse praise, because it belongs to the God he loves, and in receiving it he keeps nothing for himself. A man who is not humble cannot accept praise gracefully. He knows what he ought to do about it. He knows that the praise belongs to God and not to himself: but he passes it on to God so clumsily that he trips himself up and draws attention to himself by his own awkwardness.”[3]

Humility, a modest or low view of one’s importance, is an integral part of Benedictine spirituality. It is, for that matter, an integral part of what it means to be Christian. Benedict is not suggesting that we are to look upon ourselves as less than we are. He is telling us to look upon ourselves as we truly are in the light and presence of Christ.

Am I truly humble?

This is a difficult question to ask myself. It is also a question that deserves an honest answer. To answer with a “yes” smacks with both pride and false humility. The best answer that I can provide is that I want to be truly humble. Perhaps it is because of this desire that I am presented with so many occasions that test my humility.

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[1] RB Prologue 29-34

[2] Ephesian 6:16

[3] Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, © 1961, Abbey of Gethsemani, p. 188

Praying The Psalms With Saint Benedict

The appointment would take a while. 

Doctor’s appointments can sometimes take a long while. It was a beautiful Lower Alabama winter morning with plenty of sunshine, so I figured I would sit in the car and wait while my wife was inside for her appointment.

I took along some reading material that would help sanctify the time – a New Testament with the Psalms, a copy of the Rule of Saint Benedict, an English translation of the book In Silence With God by Abbot Benedict Baur that was first published in 1955 and bears both the Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur, and my Monastic Diurnal.

I used my breviary to recite Lauds for Thursday that includes Psalm 51, 88, 90, and The Song of Moses from Exodus 15:1-19. Our car, for a short season, became an oratory where the Opus Dei became the most important matter within my reach.

A breviary is a wonderful tool.

A Benedictine breviary is an especially wonderful tool.

I had, for a number of years after becoming an Oblate, used the four-volume Liturgy of the Hours. Though a beautiful composition, the Liturgy of the Hours was more than I could sustainably keep up with in the normal routine of my family and work life. It made me wonder, too, how busy diocesan priests faithfully keep up with it.

I opted to use Shorter Christian Prayer as a breviary. It is a beautiful composition, as well, and based on the Liturgy of the Hours. It is set up on a four-week cycle, and something that is much easier to carry in hand or in a pocket than one of the four volumes of the Liturgy of the Hours.

Somewhere along the way, in my search for something that was more in tune with the prescription of Saint Benedict, I discovered the Monastic Diurnal. According to their website, Lancelot Andrewes Press still carries them.

Diurnal?

It is an interesting word, though one fairly well lost to our more modern English usages. It’s simplest definition means having to do with each day every day. The Monastic Diurnal was the breviary followed by busy Benedictines going about their lives outside the monastic enclosures nearly a hundred years ago.

I sat quietly, there in our mobile oratory, after reciting Lauds. I was in no hurry. There was no need to hurry. There was no urgency to do anything other that what I was doing. I simply sat there soaking like a sponge in a sink of warm water. I began to sense that my offering had touched the heart of God and that he, in return, was benevolently touching mine.

In the quietness, I was reminded of how the Benedictine practice of repetitiously praying these Psalms from the breviary affect my perception and vision.

They cause me to look upward toward the absolute holiness and perfection of the Father and the Son where they are seated in their heavenly place. They cause me to look outward toward the world and all that is going on in the world; a world of humanity that seems, at least to me, to be fast falling apart in its downward moral spiral. They cause me to look inward into the interior realms of my own heart; drawing me into a place where, though living in the state of grace, I cannot forget or excuse myself for the grave sins I have committed, and into a place where the vision of Christ on the Cross becomes ever more beautiful, ever more personally appreciated, motivating me to continue laying down my life in order to embrace his life.

The sun was at a place in the sky where its rays created bright shining glare reflecting from the chrome bumpers and windshields of cars sitting around in the parking lots. I lowered the visor in front of me and put on some shades to protect my eyes from the eye-piercing glare. I could not help, in that moment, but to think about how easy it is to be attracted to the lesser things in this world that glitter and shine while, at the same time, blinding me to the beauty of the Son and eternal realities that he represents.