Preferring Nothing to Christ

LOVE

It has often been said that the one of the reasons why the Rule of St Benedict has continued to inspire people is because of the simple humanity that we find in its pages. St Benedict lays out a way of life that he wants to be within the reach of anyone who deeply desires to follow the monastic path. He speaks of a ‘school of the Lord’s service’ where nothing is ‘too harsh or burdensome’.

Of course, this does not mean that the monastic path is easy or can be undertaken in a half-hearted manner. Our model for all that we do is the person of Christ. Everything that we undertake, whether it be large or small, easy or difficult, has Christ as its focus. The monastic path is counter cultural: it is only LOVE that makes sense of it all.

In a chapter which is considered to be the spiritual heart of the Rule, St Benedict articulates ideas which could also be considered to be his manifesto on love:

‘Just as there is an evil and bitter zeal that separates one from God and leads to hell, so too there is a good zeal that separates one from evil and leads to God and eternal life. This, then, is the good zeal which monks must foster with fervent love: They should try to be the first to show respect to the other (Rom 10:12) , supporting with the greatest patience one another’s weaknesses of body or behaviour, and earnestly competing in obedience to one another. No one is to pursue what he judges better for himself, but instead, what he judges better for someone else. To their fellow monks they show the pure love of brothers, to God, loving fear; to their abbot, unfeigned and humble love. Let them prefer nothing whatever to Christ, and may he bring us all together to everlasting life.’

Ch 72, On Good Zeal

We are to image Christ by putting others first, by considering their good and not our own. The community becomes for us a place where we can learn and practice this art of following Christ. We take up the challenge to live rooted in Christ, with a listening ear, a discerning heart, able to hear and respond to the call of the Spirit.

As the monastic path unfolds we will need to grow in ‘fervent love’, ‘pure love’, ‘loving fear’ and ‘unfeigned and humble love’. Each of these asks something a little different.

Where can you see these different forms of love in your own life?
How have you been able to grow in love?
Where do you most need to grow in love?

CHRIST

Much of the Rule of St Benedict is concerned with the practicalities of living in community. St Benedict values good order and urges that things be so arranged that ‘the strong have something to yearn for and the weak have nothing to run from’ (Ch 64). Christ is implicitly honoured in every aspect of monastery life. But two areas of daily life are singled out as special opportunities for honouring Christ: care of the sick and the welcoming of guests.

Care of the sick must rank above and before all else, so that they may be truly served as Christ, for he said: I was sick and you visited me (Matt 25:36) and what you did for one of these least brothers you did for me (Matt 25:40).
(Rule of St Benedict, Ch 31)

Commenting on this chapter of the Rule Sr Aquinata Bockmann says:

‘Benedict emphatically refers to Christ. He is present in the sick whether the sick person shows himself worthy or not, whether he is virtuous or not. In order to serve Christ one is not required to examine whether the person really represents Christ by his virtue. By the fact that he is the ‘least’ and so is in need of help, Christ is present.‘

It is not just the physically sick who require particular attention. Benedict also makes provision for the wayward:

The abbot must exercise the utmost care and concern for wayward brothers, because it is not the healthy who need a physician, but the sick (Matt 9:12)
(Rule of St Benedict, Ch 27)

The actions of the compassionate and merciful Christ are implicit in all of St Benedict’s directives. The compassion and mercy that is to be fostered in the enclosure of the monastery is not an end in itself. Each member of the monastic community is tasked with making this concrete when guests arrive:

All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say: I was a stranger and you welcomed me. (Matt 25:35)
(Rule of St Benedict, Ch 53)

In the ordinary running of a monastery certain sisters will carry the work of being a ‘Guest sister’. They will be the guest’s first contact. There is, however, an understanding that everyone in the monastery contributes to this work. Christ is implicitly welcomed in all that we do in the monastery.

Look back over your week. How have you welcomed Christ?

Isaiah 56:1,6-7
Matthew 15:21-28

Over the years in monastic life I have gradually gathered a set of personals tools to help me engage with Scripture. Some of these tools involve close analysis of the text and some are more obviously creative. I have learnt the value of stepping back from a passage and seeing it in the context of the whole Gospel. If you read through the Gospels systematically and focus on the texts where woman speak you’ll find you have a fairly small list. This has encouraged me to pay very close attention to what is said and how it is said.

As is often the case, the woman in today’s passage is unnamed. What is significant for Matthew is that she is a gentile, a Canaanite woman. Hearers of Matthew’s Gospel will already have had their ears tuned to the part that Gentile women played in the story of salvation. Matthew’s genealogy contains four women who were either Gentile or became associated with the Gentile world: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba. That Matthew names these women and by implication their complex stories heartens me.

When I come to look closely at today’s text I hear the Canaanite woman’s dialogue with Jesus as part of the tradition of the bold and brave women who have already shaped our story of salvation. Their faith and tenacity mattered. That the woman argues with Jesus and appears to win speaks to me of an adult faith where there is room to question and argue. The Penny Catechism of my childhood had everything laid out in such a watertight way. It was only in adulthood that I dared to ask ‘But what if…?’

The Canaanite woman comes to plead for her sick daughter. She is deterred neither by Jesus’ silence nor by his stating of his mission: ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.’ Jesus sees her. He sees her faith. Her plea is granted. She now takes her place among the women whose lives and faith have shaped salvation.

Can you picture yourself like the woman pleading with Jesus?
For whom would you plead?

Genesis 12:1-4
John 15:9-17

Here at Turvey we are celebrating the feast of St Bernard Tolomei, founder of the Olivetan Congregation. We know relatively little about him. Born in Siena in 1272, the son of a noble man, he was educated and trained to be a lawyer. In 1313, Bernard and two companions moved out to the country to live a simple lifestyle. By 1319 they had founded the monastery of Monte Oliveto and adopted the Rule of St Benedict.

At the heart of every community of faith is a story of God’s loving initiative and the response of perhaps one courageous individual or a group. This is sacred history. Looking back at the history of a founder draws us into that sacred history too.

In the first reading from Genesis 14 the Church lays before us the call of Abraham.

‘Leave your country, your kindred and your father’s house for a country which I shall show you; and I shall make you a great nation, I shall bless you and make your name famous; you are to be a blessing!

As a teenager I was very fond the Palm Tree posters series. The images were cartoon-like line drawings and there was often a little gentle humour. The poster for Genesis 14 showed Abraham setting out with a huge pile of question marks on his shoulder. This image often comes to mind when I think faith, courage and vocation. Like Abraham, St Bernard didn’t know what twists and turns his path would take, but the love of God compelled him to set out.

By 1322 Bernard was abbot of a growing community. Such was the appeal of the charism and way of life, that he founded ten more monasteries. Fifty of his letters survive from this time and they are a rich source of insight into his spirituality. Humility emerges as the touchstone of his understanding of monastic life:

‘Whatever is yours, give it, yourself and all you own, that you may dispose of yourself and all things yours according to His most holy will.’

That Bernard lived as he wrote is poignantly seen in his decision in 1348 to return to a monastery, in the town of Siena, to nurse his plague stricken monks. There Bernard himself contracted plague and gave his life for his monks.

Today’s Gospel from John 15 resonates so clearly with Bernard’s life and vision:

If you keep my commandments
you will remain in my love,
just as I have kept my Father’s commandments
and remain in his love.

The height and the breadth of this love meant that Bernard thought only of the welfare of his monks:

No one can have greater love
than to lay down his life for his friends.

That he was able to make this choice speaks to me of the innate capacity of every human heart to seek the greater good. While we may not feel that we have Bernard’s courage or his zeal, we can be reassured that the smallest of acts contribute something to the whole. We have all stepped out in faith at some point on our journey. We have all gone above and beyond when we didn’t think we had the strength to do it.

Today’s Gospel speaks to me of God’s initiative in the lives of each one of us:

You did not choose me,
no, I chose you;
and I commissioned you
to go out and to bear fruit,
fruit that will last;
so that the Father will give you
anything you ask him in my name.

God chooses us and plants within us the capacity to bear fruit. St Bernard bore the fruits of humility and selfless love.

What fruit do you most desire to bear for God?

CHRIST

Let them prefer absolutely nothing to Christ,
and may he lead us all together to everlasting life. (Ch 72, On Good Zeal)

That the Rule of St Benedict is Christological is evident on just about every page of the text. Whether St Benedict is speaking of ‘running in the way of God’s commands’ (Prologue), or treating the ‘goods and utensils of the monastery as the sacred vessels of the altar’ (Ch 31), it is to Christ that everything is directed.

There is a school of thought that sees the Prologue of the Rule as baptismal catechesis. Implicit is the leaving behind of one way of life in order to take up ‘the strong and noble weapons of obedience, to do battle for the true King, Christ the Lord.’ There is a clear sense that you are being invited to embark upon a new path. The Rule concerns itself with training us to run on a road together, under the direction of Christ.

In Baptism we were each called to a life that is centred on Christ, in the fullness of his humanity and divinity. We were called to imitate Christ in all that we do. As the priest anointed us with the Oil of Chrism he said these words:

God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ has freed you from sin,given you a new birth by water and the Holy Spirit, and welcomed you into his holy people. He now anoints you with the chrism of salvation. As Christ was anointed PRIEST, PROPHET and KING, so may you live always as a member of his body, sharing everlasting life.

The call to enter a monastery is one that makes concrete the call of baptism. Whichever way we choose to live out our baptismal call, our aim will be to become more and more like Christ. The monastic path offers us the opportunity to do this with a community of people, a Rule of Life, the guidance of an abbess, communal prayer, personal prayer and manual work. Our task in the monastery is to be open to the ways in which we can imitate Christ as Prophet, Priest and King in the monastic rhythm of each day.

How does your baptismal call shape your day to day life?
Where are you most aware of the call to image Christ?
Perhaps you have your own Rule of Life. How does this centre you on Christ?

Revelation 11:19,12:1-6,10 
1 Corinthians 15:20-26 
Luke 1:39-56 

The older I get the more time I seem to need to spend on paying attention to my body and making sensible choices. This is anything but self indulgent. When you live in community your own well-being is linked to the whole. There’s something of an implicit understanding that what you do or don’t do will affect the whole. While the monastic path might be an overtly spiritual choice, there’s no escaping the fact that this choice is worked out in a very physical way each day. Bodies matter.

When I come to celebrate the Feast of the Assumption I bring to the liturgy my own questions about my bodily life and death. The Church offers me some interpretative keys in the Liturgy of the Word. These are not keys that unlock the mystery straight away. For me these are well worn keys and I need a certain patience to unlock the various doors of mystery.

The first reading from Revelation invites me into the realm of apocalyptic literature. Today the ‘woman, adorned with the sun, standing on the moon, and with the twelve stars on her head for a crown.’ is Mary of Nazareth. I need to suspend what I understand to be the context and meaning of these words of Scripture and allow the text to have a meaning specific to the feast. Here we have Mary, Queen of heaven and bearer of our Saviour.

Today’s text from Corinthians plunges us into the mystery of the physicality of resurrection. There is a reassuring order in which things happen:

‘Christ as the first-fruits and then, after the coming of Christ, those who belong to him.’

This text gives me such hope. Despite our weaknesses and our failings we know that we ‘belong to him’. In the Church’s understanding of the Assumption, Mary is so closely related to Jesus in mind and body that it is unthinkable that she her body should know decay. Legend has it that, perhaps in Ephesus, she falls asleep and is bodily assumed into heaven. In the bodily Assumption of Mary we find our hope too. I think there’s a case for understanding the Assumption as a sign that Mary’s body and our bodies too are places where God’s grace can take hold and where God’s power and glory can be seen. Our destiny, as those who belong to Christ, is to be resurrected with bodies that are glorified.

When we come to the Gospel text from Luke we are on familiar territory. This door opens easily for me. Two pregnant women meet in a sharing of joy and thanksgiving for the new life that they bear within them. Both women know that their bodies are channels of God’s promise and grace.

Poet Malcolm Guite expresses this so well in his sonnet, Visitation.

Two women on the very edge of things
Unnoticed and unknown to men of power
But in their flesh the hidden Spirit sings
And in their lives the buds of blessing flower.

As we look at this scene from the vantage point of the feast of the Assumption we see the dynamic of Mary’s faithfulness in mind, body and heart.

‘Blessed is she who believed that the promise made her by the Lord would be fulfilled.’

With Mary’s ‘Yes’, this promise takes shape in flesh and blood. What God has done in and through Mary, is God’s desire for each one of us. In celebrating the Assumption we celebrate redeemed humanity. Theologian John McQuarrie sees the Assumption as an on going event:

‘…whenever here on earth there is a gleam of true glory, a faithful act of discipleship, a prayer offered in faith, a hand stretched out in love, there is assumption, human life is being lifted up to God by God.’

How can you be open to the graces of the Assumption this week?

Matthew 14:22-33

Last year I watched the film Titanic again and was struck by the poignancy of the scene where the assembled passengers enthusiastically sing:

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm has bound the restless wave,
Who bids the mighty ocean deep
It’s own appointed limits keep;
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.

For our ancient ancestors and for us too the sea has always held a certain terror. In the Jewish thought world it was God alone who could save people from disaster at sea. For the hearers of Matthew’s Gospel a story that involves water, a strong wind, an element of danger and a rescue of some form would almost certainly have been familiar. Matthew’s Gospel has clear parallels with the story of Israelites in the wilderness and their triumphant rescue from the Egyptians. The Crossing of the Sea of Reeds is a seminal story in the history of salvation. It functions on two levels: a story of deliverance and a manifestation of the majesty and mystery of God.

In Matthew’s story telling we see Jesus emerge from his wilderness experience and then enter the waters of the River Jordan. Here Jesus is the new Moses. He will go on to preach a lengthy sermon in Ch 5-7 and this parallels the speech that the Deuteronomist writers put on the lips of Moses in Deuteronomy. Jesus will feed the 5,000 with a very small quantity of bread. There are clear parallels here with the manna which God provides for his people in the desert.

When the disciples find themselves at the mercy of the sea, Jesus comes towards them walking on the water. Matthew would have got his hearers’ attention by mentioning the ‘fourth watch of the night’. This was traditionally the hour when demons were thought to be at work. The disciples are afraid and think Jesus is a ghost. When Jesus says ‘Courage! It is I. Do not be afraid.’ we can hear this being addressed to the whole Christian community. They had every reason to be afraid. In this scene on the stormy waters of the lake we meet again the twofold dynamic of rescue and manifestation of the majesty and mystery of God. Peter is being invited to step into the mystery.

Our baptism has plunged us into the waters of rebirth and we too are invited to step into the majesty and mystery of God. We can’t know where this journey will take us. But we can be sure that Jesus will come to us across the waters with an out- stretched arm.

Where have you seen God’s majesty and mystery this past week?

GOSPEL

‘Let us get up then, for the Scriptures rouse us when they say: It is high time for us to arouse from sleep. Let us open our eyes to the light that comes from God.’
(Prologue, Rule of St Benedict)

For St Benedict, Scripture is a living and active thing in the life of a monastic. He uses a description of Scripture which is unique to his writing- ‘light which comes from God’. Some translations say ‘deifying light’. His use of this phrase in the Prologue brings to mind the picture of an appearance of God (theophany): light and thunder from the sky and the voice of God appear in the theophany of Mt Sinai (Exodus 19:16-24).

St Benedict arranges the monastic timetable so that a monastic is guaranteed to be in the presence of this ‘light which comes from God’. The monastic liturgy is composed almost entirely of Scripture. And added to this are the prescribed times for Lectio Divina- the slow reading and pondering of God’s Word. Little by little the monastic learns to listen attentively to God’s voice in the Scriptures. With years of repetition some texts become woven into the heart and mind.

Sr Irene Nowell osb, a Biblical scholar, expresses her sense of the place that Scripture holds in the life of a monastic. She remembers her high school English teacher saying: ‘It’s so nice to be a Benedictine and live with the Psalms every day. They just soak into your bones.’

During her own life in monastery she has found this to be the case:

‘We are charged not to harden our hearts, nor dull our ears, nor close our eyes. We are called to integrate thinking and praying and acting. Scripture is the air we breathe, the food we eat, the water we drink. What would our monastic lives be without Scripture? How grateful we must be that God chooses every day to speak to us with our own human words in our own human lives. “The word of God is very near to you, already in your mouths and in your hearts; you have only to carry it out” (Dt 30:14; cf. Rom 10:7).’

Spend some time today doing a ‘Scriptural brainstorm’. Don’t edit, just see which texts surface for you. Can you see any patterns? How is God speaking through the Scripture that you have stored in your heart?

‘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.‘ (Rule of St Benedict, Prologue)

St Benedict rouses us to action in his Prologue with a call that is almost impossible to ignore. Every Christian is called to live the values of the Gospel. Every Christian is called to find in the stories of Christ and his teachings the inspiration to live as Christ lived. So, what is specific about living the Gospel in monastic life?

Life in the monastery gives our hearing of the Gospel a particular focus. There are texts that stand out and have particular depth because of the way we live. Texts that talk about love, community and dying to self can remind the monastic of the essential values in Benedictine Life. Over the years you come to know some of the texts by heart and this is, in turn, deepens your response. I have found that daily engagement with Scripture, combined with periods of silence, holds me to account in a very particular way.

When we speak of being guided by the Gospel we are speaking fundamentally about good news. We are speaking about a series of events that have changed the world forever.

St Paul gives us a short and clear explanation of what that good news actually is:

Well then, in the first place, I taught you what I had been taught myself, namely that Christ died for our sins, in accordance with the Scriptures: that he was buried: and that he was raised to life on the third day, in accordance with the Scriptures; that he appeared first to Cephas and second to the Twelve.

1 Corinthians 15

If we really believe this message, then we will set out on a path that leads us towards Christ. Our hope is that day by day we will become more like Christ. Christ is our model for our daily living. The text of the Beatitudes is often quoted and often people puzzle over just what it means. All of the values of the Beatitudes are modelled for us in Christ. It has been said that the Beatitudes are not so much a spirituality but a ‘geography’: they tell us ‘where to stand’. We stand with the ‘poor in spirit’, we stand with the ‘gentle’…

How blessed are the poor in spirit: the kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
Blessed are the gentle: they shall have the earth as inheritance.
Blessed are those who mourn: they shall be comforted.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for uprightness: they shall have their fill.
Blessed are the merciful: they shall have mercy shown them.
Blessed are the pure in heart: they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers: they shall be recognised as children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted in the cause of uprightness: the kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
Blessed are you when people abuse you and persecute you and speak all kinds of calumny against you falsely on my account.
Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven; this is how they persecuted the prophets before you.

Matthew 5

When we speak of Gospel values, in any walk of life, we have specific things in mind. Our baptismal call invites us to a life that holds these values as central. Every Christian is called to walk a beatitudinal path.

Where are you most aware of the values of the Beatitudes in your own life?
Where do you see these values in others?
Where do you see these values in yourself?
Are there particular Biblical texts that rouse you to action?

He was manifested in the flesh,
vindicated in the Spirit.

Great indeed, we confess,
is the mystery of our religion.

He was seen by angels,
preached among the nations.

O praise the Lord, all you nations
acclaim him, all you peoples!

He was believed on in the world,
taken up in glory.

Strong is his love for us,
he is faithful forever.

(1Timothy 3:16, Ps 116)

Above is the Canticle that we use for Vespers of the Transfiguration. It cleverly blends together a text from the New Testament and a text from the Old Testament. These texts are woven together seamlessly, with each shedding light on the other.

The composite text captures something of the feast of the Transfiguration. We move from the Incarnation to the God of all creation. It is almost as if we see one super-imposed upon the other. In the Gospel accounts of the Transfiguration there is a mingling of earth and heaven, old and new, prophet and disciple.  God’s faithfulness runs as a thread through the Old Testament and here on Mt Tabor that faithfulness is manifested in the transfigured Christ.

That this powerful experience takes place on a mountain should perhaps come as no surprise to the disciples. Indeed, from the beginning of history human beings have been aware of what we can call the existence of a ‘spiritual landscape’. Most fundamentally, God is ‘up’ and the evil one is ‘down’. God or the gods live on mountains and the evil one lives somewhere down in the depths of the earth. Human beings have always sought ways of connecting with the deity, of being relationship with the deity. Our ancestors developed ritual behaviours which were designed either to appease the wrath of the deity or to procure favour. Certain places became significant as meeting places with the deity.

The account of the Transfiguration is a mysterious text and one that isn’t always easy to understand. The words of the Canticle ‘Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of our religion’ resonate with me particularly on this feast. When we celebrate the liturgy and hear the Gospel text we are given a glimpse of glory. And like the disciples, we too must come down from the mountain. Our task now is to look for those glimpses of glory wherever we are. And the more ordinary the place we find ourselves in the better.

Poet, Malcolm Guite, captures the mystery at the heart of the feast.

For that one moment, ‘in and out of time’,
On that one mountain where all moments meet,
The daily veil that covers the sublime
In darkling glass fell dazzled at his feet.
There were no angels full of eyes and wings
Just living glory full of truth and grace.
The Love that dances at the heart of things
Shone out upon us from a human face
And to that light the light in us leaped up,
We felt it quicken somewhere deep within,
A sudden blaze of long-extinguished hope
Trembled and tingled through the tender skin.
Nor can this this blackened sky, this darkened scar
Eclipse that glimpse of how things really are.

Where have you ‘the light’ within you leap up this week?