Preferring Nothing to Christ

‘(The abbot) most so arrange everything that the strong have something to yearn for and the weak have nothing to run from.’
Ch 64, The Election of an Abbot

If I had to choose just one sentence from the Rule, I think this would be it. Benedict treads a careful, clear-sighted and loving path in his chapters on the abbot. He sketches in the person of the abbot a figure who is Christ-like in all that he does. Benedict is clearly influenced by the desert tradition and its legendary tales of asceticism, but he is careful to provide a balance. In reality every monastic knows the times when they are strong and their heart is full of yearning. More importantly, every monastic knows too the times of weakness and situations from which they would rather run. What is hopeful for me in the quotation is that the abbot has oversight over all of this.

As the years go on, I find myself thankful for the things in monastic life that I can do with ease. I am aware that I have gained stamina in some areas. But equally, there are things that will always be hard. Community life is such that with our combined strengths and weaknesses, somehow, we can make it work. It’s love that holds the whole of our lives together.

How do you hear this quotation from the Rule?
What hope does it offer you?

Image: Turvey Abbey
Garden produce planted and harvested by Sr Benedict. This picture is from a few years ago. We especially enjoy the tomatoes and find the transition back to shop bought tomatoes quite hard.

‘Receive me, Lord, according to your promise and I shall live; do not disappoint me in my hope.’ Ps 118.116

In Ch 58, The Procedure for Receiving Brothers, this Psalm verse is chosen by St Benedict as the central text for the ceremony of monastic Profession. It is traditionally sung solo three times in English or Latin* by the monastic, with the whole community repeating it each time. As you reach the milestones of Silver Jubilee, Golden Jubilee etc you’ll sing this verse again. And when the time comes for your death and burial this verse will be sung as your coffin is lowered into the ground. Your life will have come full circle.

There is so much to say about this chapter. Sr Aquinata Bockmann comments:

‘This chapter is a creative memory: for what have I come? What has led me here? What did I promise? Profession is not an action completed once and for all; rather it must be appropriated, affirmed, integrated into one’s life and deepened.

In the end, our whole life is a kind of novitiate for the final profession at the hour of our death. God is leading us step by step. God accepts our efforts, but wants to gift us with what is essential.’

Making Profession is an act of trust in all that God promises. It’s covenant of hope between the monastic and God. No two paths are the same.

How has God’s promise been revealed in your own life?

(The Latin text begins ‘Suscipe me, Domine’. We use Suscipe as a shorthand for the whole text.)

( Image: Sr Paula Dansen singing the Suscipe on her Golden Jubilee. Her family made the trip for Holland for the occasion.)

‘If there are artisans in the monastery, they are to practise their craft with all humility, but only with the abbot’s permission.’
Ch 57, The Artisans of the Monastery

This chapter of the Rule assumes that creative activities are taking place in the monastery. I think it might be one of the best kept secrets of monasteries that they have always been places of great creativity and resourcefulness. I imagine that just about every monastic house will have several people who have taught themselves a particular skill, using their wits and the resources they could find in a cupboard. Monastic houses are great keepers of ‘useful items’ and one day they will come in very handy. Where there is creativity I always find hope.

St Benedict sounds a note of caution to all artisans and all who dabble in creative things. The purpose of the craft is the glory of God and not the glory of the individual. This is a very important precept for monastic living.

Thirty two years ago when I first visited Turvey Abbey I was struck by the creativity of the environment. This was just one of the things that stirred something in me. Over the years I have seen how we value creativity in all of its forms.

Which skills have you learnt and practised? How do you exercise your creative gifts?

Image: Turvey Abbey
This picture is of me and is taken in the art room at Turvey Abbey. When our artist, Sr Regina, died I was given her desk in the art room. In years gone I visited schools and led In Service days on prayer. I made all of my own props. Here you see some finger puppets of Miriam, Moses and Aaron which I made to illustrate some ideas in the Old Testament. The art room and various cupboards in the monastery are full of useful scraps of paper and art supplies. You can pretty much always find what you need.

For the daily meals, whether at noon or in midafternoon, it is enough we believe, to provide all tables with two kinds of cooked food because of individual weaknesses. In this way, the person who may not be able to eat of one kind of food may partake of the other.
Ch. 39, The Proper Amount of Food

St Benedict’s chapters on the practical workings of the monastery may surprise us in their ordinariness. Given that St Benedict is writing in the Sixth Century we might expect guidelines that were more obviously ascetic. But instead we see the compassionate heart of a man who understands human weakness. The chapter is careful and tentative in places and if we read between the lines we have the sense that in the monastery the physical and spiritual are intimately connected. St Benedict wants his community to avoid anything that might harm both body or soul. There’s real hope in this incarnational theology.

Where in your own life are you called to honour the individual weaknesses of others?

Image: Turvey Abbey
In monastic tradition we do not eat meat on Wednesdays on Fridays. This is a simple lunch of butternut squash, puy lentils, hazelnuts and coriander. On weekdays we have fruit and a biscuit or small piece of cake for dessert. On Sundays and Feasts have a ‘proper’ dessert.

In Chapter Four of his Rule St Benedict offers the monastic a set of ‘tools’ for monastic living. These tools are seventy-three spiritual practices which cover every aspect of monastic life:
Yearn for everlasting life with holy desire. (Tool 46)
Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die. (Tool 47)
Do not aspire to be called holy before you really are, but first be holy so that you may more truly be called so. (Tool 62)

If you read this chapter in one sitting it can be quite overwhelming. Right at the end of the list of practices St Benedict reassures his community:
‘Never despair of God’s mercy.’
An appeal to the infinite mercy of God is so hopeful and characteristic of St Benedict’s measured and compassionate way. This verse of the Rule always reminds me of Lamentations 3:
The favours of the Lord are not all past, nor his kindnesses exhausted;
every morning they are renewed; great is his faithfulness.

Where can you see God’s mercy in your own life?

( Dawn at Turvey Abbey. This is the garden at the back of the monastery.)

As often as anything important is to be done in the monastery, the abbot shall call the whole community together and himself explain what the business is; and after hearing the advice of the brothers, let him ponder it and follow what he judges the wiser course. Ch 3, Summoning the Brothers for Counsel 

When the first documentation for the Synod on Synodality was published I immediately saw an outlook and a method that I recognised. For centuries, men and women, from various walks of life, have tried to find ways of living together in community. It’s pretty much a guarantee in any community that while you all have vowed to live according to a particular charism, you will have very different ways of expressing this. A willingness to listen deeply and to put yourself in the shoes of another is vital.

Monasteries of course are not democracies as we in the 21st Century understand that term. The smooth workings of the monastery rely on the maturity of its members and their ability to abide by a decision that is made, even if it isn’t of their choosing. This is the real test of obedience.

St Benedict adds a detail in this chapter which may surprise us:
‘The reason why we have said all should be called for counsel is that the Lord often reveals what is better to the younger.’

Commenting on this verse, Sr Aquinata Bockmann osb says; ‘Older persons love to argue from tradition. “That’s how it was always done.” Theirs is wisdom and life experience. The younger members tend to be more flexible, open to new ideas, not bound by historical prejudice. Thus it is good to hear both the counsel of the elders, human wisdom, and also the younger ones, possibly a shocking novelty. Benedict points the way to ‘both and’.’

It’s worth reflecting on how we listen when we are in a group or a meeting.
Does everyone have a chance to speak? How easy is it for a voice to go unheard?

Image: Turvey Abbey
Code of practice for community meetings at Turvey Abbey. The code is inspired by Ch 3 of the Rule. We use a ‘talking stick’ to help keep the meeting on track and to avoid talking over each other.

 

‘Clothed then with faith and the performance of good works, let us set out on this way, with the Gospel for our guide, that we may deserve to see him who has called us to his kingdom.’

One of the gifts of monastic life for me is the experience of living close to the Scriptures. All through the day my heart and my mind are invited to find in the Scriptures light for the way ahead. This is a very slow process which will only end on the day that I breathe my last. Much like water dripping onto a stone, God’s Word shapes my heart.

St Benedict knew this on a personal level. His Rule is a pastiche of Scripture texts. He finds in the Scriptures ‘medicine’ (Ch 28, Those Who Refuse to Amend after Frequent Reproofs) and the ‘truest of guides for human life.’ (Ch 73, This Rule Only A Beginning of Perfection).

How has Scripture shaped your own life?

Image: Turvey Abbey (This is me standing at our lectern. The lectern fall was woven by our Prioress, Sr Zoe Davis.)

St Benedict begins his Rule in the most hopeful of ways. He begins with an invitation to listen:

‘Listen carefully, my son, to the master’s instructions and attend to them with the ear of your heart. This is advice from a father who loves you; welcome it and faithfully put it into practice.’ Prologue, Rule of St Benedict

As a Benedictine I have vowed my life to listening to the voice of God. It’s a type of listening that invites you to go deeper and deeper. I’ll hear God’s voice in the Scriptures, the Rule, in my superior and my sisters. Over the centuries thousands of men and women have responded to this invitation.

Where do you hear God’s voice?

Image: Turvey Abbey
(In 2006 we hosted a gathering for Young Benedictine Sisters from Europe. We looked at the topic of ‘Good Zeal’ (RB Ch 72). It was a wonderful week.)

Luke 17:5-10

In the opening of his Rule St Benedict makes an invitation to anyone who is serious about seeking God: ‘Is there anyone here who yearns for life and desires to see good days?‘ To those who respond he says:

‘See how the Lord in his love shows us the way of life. Clothed then with faith and the performance of good works, let us set out on this way with the Gospel for our guide.’ Benedict’s invitation is Gospel based and very clear. He intends to establish a ‘school of the Lord’s Service’.

These past weeks our Gospel texts have provided us with ‘a school of Discipleship’. With words and images our minds have been focussed on the cost of following Christ in suffering and glory. The opening verses of this chapter give the disciples a series of warnings: don’t be the cause of someone else’s fall, deal with wrongdoing and forgive, forgive several times a day if it is needed. The disciples’ response to these warnings is to ask Jesus to increase their faith. Jesus replies with yet another challenging statement:

‘Were your faith the size of a mustard seed you could say to this mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the sea,” and it would obey you.

This increase of faith is vital if the disciples are to fulfill the demands of discipleship. The scene that Jesus now paints is of uncompromising commitment. The servant has both outdoor and indoor work. All of the work requires energy and attention to detail. In my own monastic life, I remember during my novitiate the feeling of a morning spent harvesting spinach (you had to do this squatting) and then coming inside to be the server at lunch. That thirty minutes on my feet serving lunch could feel like the last straw and there were still several hours of the day left. Then there was the grim reality of this being nothing out of the ordinary. It was just what was expected.

The servant’s work of shepherding, ploughing and waiting at table is taken up by the Early Church as literally and metaphorically describing the work of the apostles. Some commentators suggest that there may have been some tension between the ‘indoor and the outdoor’. Fairly quickly the apostles designate deacons to wait on tables.

There is no way round it: discipleship asks everything we have.

In this past week where has Christ called you to shepherd, plough and wait on tables?

Luke 16:19-31

Week after week the Gospel texts have presented us with a range of challenges. This week’s text is no exception. At first sight the parable is a warning about riches and the fate of those whose earthly life focused on wealth alone. Luke uses the framework of a well-known Egyptian folktale to begin his parable. His hearers will know that there will be a reversal of fortunes. With all the skill of a story-teller Luke paints a picture of Lazarus’ desperate situation. The writing is vivid. It makes my hair stand on end.

And at his gate there lay a poor man called Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to fill himself with the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs even came and licked his sores.

In the very next line of the text all is made right as Lazarus enjoys bliss in ‘the bosom of Abraham.’ The rich man’s fate is described equally vividly. There is to be no bliss for the rich man. We have no doubt where our sympathies lie. The Rich man’s arrival in Hades doesn’t prompt him to examine his heart, but rather he wants Lazarus to ease his suffering. He has missed an opportunity for conversion. In stories such as A Christmas Carol and It’s Wonderful Life the main characters get a chance to put things right. There is no such second chance in this parable. Not only is there no second chance, but there is a gulf that cannot be crossed:

…between us and you a great gulf has been fixed, to stop anyone, if he wanted to, crossing from our side to yours, and to stop any crossing from your side to ours.

In the second half of the parable the rich man pleads on behalf of his brothers. Some scholars suggest that this is the main point of the parable and that it should be called the Parable of the Six Brothers. Herein lies the tragedy: not only is the Rich Man suffering in Hades but he has five brothers who are just like him. They live lives of luxury and block out God’s Word.

When a parable presents us with stark contrasts it is easy for us to see the path we would hope to be taking. In our daily lives the path might not be so clear. It might not be wealth or luxury that blocks out God’s Word in our lives. We may have created a gulf with other things and now find we cannot cross. This parable gives us a chance to examine our hearts and reorient ourselves.

There’s no doubt that we are witnessing an ever-widening gulf between the rich and the poor. Just as we wish for a change of heart for those who have power and influence, so too we must be ready to change our own hearts.

Where is God calling you to a change of heart?