Tag: St. Benedict

• Your Home is Your Abbey; Your Heart is Your Cloister

  I met a woman once, many years ago, who taught writing in a prison. She had the inmates read The Rule of Saint Benedict. She encouraged them to use the spirituality and culture of Benedictine monasticism as a way to reflect on their experience of incarceration.

  She certainly wasn’t the first — or the last — person to see a correlation between the cloister and correctional facilities. In her fascinating book Silence: A Social History of One of the Least Understood Elements of Our Lives,  author Jane Brox tells the story of a penitentiary in Philadelphia that was designed with monastic practices in mind.

  I am writing these words just days after the World Health Organization declared the spread of the infectious virus COVID-19 a global pandemic. Many schools and businesses are closing; many restaurants are only preparing food for takeout or delivery, and many grocery stores are running out of staple items like bread and canned goods, as members of the public prepare for a period of voluntary self-isolation and social distancing. No one wants to get sick, and a disease with a mortality rate higher than influenza and no vaccine currently available has gotten the attention of many people — not just those who are particularly vulnerable because of age or underlying health issues. Even a robust person who would likely survive a bout of the coronavirus doesn’t want to pass it on to others, particularly those who might not fare so well.

  Stay indoors. Limit errands to those that are truly necessary, like quick visits to the grocery store or pharmacy. Use your smartphone or laptop to take classes, participate in public worship, or stay in touch with loved ones. We are all familiar with the technological tools available — at least to those who enjoy a certain level of economic affluence. In other words, we know what to do to remain connected with the world at large, even in the privacy of our own homes.

  But whether we are rich or poor, whether we are active users of the internet or those who rarely get online, we all have one thing in common: we are not used to the idea of being confined to our living space, even if voluntarily.

  We are not convicted criminals, sentenced to an institution where our freedom is stripped away. We are in home-based quarantines or domestic isolation by our own choice — as conscientious citizens.

  But that won’t make it any easier. There’s a reason why terms like “stir-crazy” or “cabin fever” exist. Even if the confinement is of our own choosing, we naturally rebel against any infringement on our movements.

  Which is why The Rule of Saint Benedict might be the perfect book to read during a pandemic.

  Embracing Your Personal Monastery (or Hermitage)

  Many people live alone, which means that their apartments or homes are suddenly becoming “hermitages” — even when they live in the midst of a large city. Others, who share their living space with family or friends, are suddenly in a living situation not unlike that of a small monastery or convent.

  Granted, most people do not want to be monks or nuns. But I believe most people want to be happy. And nuns and monks have shown that even a cloistered life can be a happy life.

  So if you are feeling just a bit hemmed in by the restrictions you’ve taken on in response to the pandemic, perhaps a bit of advice from St. Benedict will help see you through.

  Frankly, even if you are reading this at some point in the future when no one is worried about a pandemic, I believe the wisdom of St. Benedict can still help anyone who, for any reason, is living a confined or stationary life. It’s wisdom that can help us to be at peace with the circumstances of our lives, and to transcend whatever limitations our lives impose upon us, to find a great freedom — within.

  Of course, St. Benedict assumes that everyone who comes to live in a monastery or convent is there for spiritual reasons. They want to give their lives to God. Obviously, not everyone who is isolated in today’s world has such spiritual motivation in their heart.

  So first, I would like to suggest that it helps to have a spiritual orientation to life.

  I know not everyone is a Christian, or even a believer in God. But for the sake of this blog post, I’m going to set those conditions aside. After all, many people who reject a religious belief-system (like Christianity, or theism in general) still adhere to a spiritual approach to life, affirming that life is good, meaningful, and that love and kindness and compassion lead to a happier and  healthier life.

  So, no matter what belief-system you do (or don’t) accept, the first key to finding happiness even in an enclosed, cloistered situation, is a commitment to a spiritual orientation to life.

  St. Benedict makes it clear that he finds spiritual growth and meaning in relationships — in other people, but also in the cultivation of interior virtues and values such as humility, kindness, generosity, meditation, a strong work ethic, and choosing to see even the most ordinary elements of life as sacred.

  In other words, even in the most constricted of life situations, any human being can still devote time and energy and effort to interior growth and development.

  The old proverb applies here: bloom where you are planted. A plant has to be healthy and at some level of maturity before it blossoms. So finding happiness and meaning even in the most confined situations means taking responsibility for both growth and health.

  I may not be able to choose to go wherever I please, but I can choose to eat a healthy diet, to get enough sleep (or at least rest), and to orient my awareness toward positive thoughts and affirming beliefs and ideas. No one forces us to be cynical — or optimistic. No matter how bad our circumstances or debilitating our life challenges might be, we always have the possibility of making choices that can make things better, even if just one step at a time.

  Much of The Rule of Saint Benedict is devoted to prayer — which, once again, may not appeal to those who don’t believe in God. If you not a theist, then think in terms of meditation as an alternative to prayer. If you are a theist, I invite you to have an expansive understanding of prayer that includes meditation.

  Benedict makes it clear: daily prayer is as important to spiritual well-being as daily hygiene is to physical health. The take-away is clear: no matter how constrained your life might be, you can find a way to orient yourself toward prayer and/or meditation, even if only for small moments in the day (spoiler alert: I believe people who sincerely pray or meditate every day, even if just for a few minutes at a time, find themselves naturally gravitating toward a more intentional — and lengthy — practice of daily meditation. It will grow naturally, because you will naturally want it to grow).

  Prayer and meditation, by themselves, do not guarantee happiness or inner peace. Some people can even find deep interior work to be particularly challenging because it can involve facing our inner wounds and shadows. But if we anchor our prayer and/or meditation in an overall commitment to positive-self care and to life-positive spiritual values, then a daily practice of interior exploration can be profoundly rewarding — and suddenly, the “prison” (or “quarantine”) of our lives simply becomes much less of a problem — or even no problem at all. For when we enter into the spaciousness of prayer or meditation, we are free — even if our physical body is anything but free.

  Even in a long blog post like this, I cannot fully exhaust how the kind-hearted and hope-filled spirituality of Saint Benedict can offer an optimistic sense of freedom that stands as a dramatic alternative to the cynicism and anxiety that characterizes so much of life today. If you want to learn more, go to the original source — or even better yet, read a good commentary on the Rule, such as Wisdom Distilled from the Daily by Joan Chittister or How to Live by Judith Valente.

  A Final Word

  I’ve aimed this blog post at someone who may be coming to the wisdom of St. Benedict for the very first time. But I want to finish by saying a word to readers who are familiar with my work, and who share my interest in Christian contemplation and mystical wisdom. I think it’s important to remember that so many of the greatest contemplatives and mystics in the Christian tradition were cloistered nuns or monks. They embraced the highest transformations of consciousness while leaving in the most confined of earthly ways. If it worked for them, it can work for us as well. If your life is shaped by some sort of external limitation — particularly something you cannot change — the path of contemplation and mystical spirituality reminds you that you can still love well, and happily, and perhaps even joyfully. Your external limitations do not need to constrict your inner freedom. You can always find the vastness of divine freedom within — and it can lead you to limitless joy.

  And if you have external limitations that can and should be changed — for example, systems of injustice or oppression that harm you — doing this work will not make you passive, but if anything, it will energize your efforts to create a better life circumstance. Set your heart free, and your mind — and body — will follow.

   

  Featured image: empty shelves at the Kroger Supermarket in Decatur, GA, March 16, 2020, as the public prepares for an indefinite period of voluntary isolation and social distancing. Photo by Carl McColman.

  March 17, 2020

  Abbey, cloister, COVID-19, Joan Chittister, Judith Valente, monastery, Mysticism, pandemic, St. Benedict

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• Ora et Labora and Right Livelihood: Some Notes Toward a Contemplative Spirituality of Work

  Most of us spend a lot of time working — so what is the spirituality of work? And how does work impact, or integrate with, our spiritual practice?

  The motto of Benedictine monasticism is Ora et Labora. It’s Latin for, “Prayer and Work” or “Prayer and Labor.” I love how the ora is actually found within labora, suggesting that prayer is (or can/should be) a part of work.

  Compare this to the noble eightfold path of Buddhism: the Buddha’s prescription for how to balance one’s life in the interest of finding liberation from suffering. One of the key eight disciplines is “Right Livelihood” — suggesting that having a mindful, conscious, ethical relationship with one’s work is an important part of liberation.

  I imagine for many people it might be easy to ignore or under-emphasize the question of how spirituality impacts work (and vice versa). Perhaps it’s too easy to create a firewall between our lives at work and our spiritual practice.

  Most of us recognize how not to mix work and spirituality. For example, too many workplaces have that  annoying guy down in the accounting department who will talk your ear off about Jesus if you let him — the one who always wants to know if you’ve been saved or not. Thanks to overzealous folks like that, we’ve learned that bringing religion, or even spirituality, into the workplace is bad form (and frowned upon by H.R.). So we keep these two aspects of our lives separated.

  But is that always skillful? Could there be a spirituality of work that does not succumb to the annoying-displays-of-religiosity, but instead is holistic, mindful, compassionate, and wise?

  You Work More Than You Realize

  For most of us, there are at least 81,000 reasons why we need a healthy relationship between spirituality and work.

  Consider this statistic. If you work from age 21 to age 65, let’s say 40 hours a week, with (on average) ten holidays, and twenty personal (vacation/sick) days each year; then over the course of your lifetime you will invest more than ten thousand days — or 81,000 hours in work.

  And realistically, many of us work more than that — because we don’t always have (or take) that many holidays and personal days each year; plus many people work significant amounts of overtime, or have to juggle two jobs to make ends meet. And not everyone wants to (or can afford to) retire at 65. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that some of us will log in over 100,000 hours of work in a single lifetime.

  Mary Oliver famously asked,

  Tell me, what is it you plan to do
  with your one wild and precious life?

  Whether we like it or not, many of us devote a good chunk of our lives to work. So if we take our spiritual lives seriously, it’s important that we find a meaningful spiritual understanding of the work we have chosen (or have been given) to do.

  A Healthy Spirituality-of-Work Begins with a Healthy Spirituality

  Maybe the reason why it’s too easy to erect a firewall between work and spirituality is because we’ve seen too many examples (like the guy in the accounting department that I mentioned above) of people who bring their spirituality (or their religion) to work in clearly unhealthy ways. Perhaps the first thing we need to do is be clear about is the difference between healthy and unhealthy spirituality.

  Unhealthy spirituality has poor boundaries. It wants to control others, and it insists that there is only one “right” way to be spiritual (or religious). It can be arrogant, it typically involves naive or fundamentalistic belief systems, and it tends to be judgmental and moralistic, rather than compassionate and understanding. This is the kind of spirituality that has, quite sensibly, made most people allergic to any displays of religiosity or spirituality in the secular workplace.

  A healthy spirituality, by contract, is a spirituality which seeks to understand rather than to control. It’s a spirituality that begins with a recognition that every human being is imperfect and has a shadow side, but also that every human being is capable of incredible imagination, creativity, and compassion. So it is a spirituality that seeks to affirm what is good more than it fusses over correcting what is not. It understands that in a diverse and secular workplace, spirituality often needs to be handled with discretion and respect for others. It’s a spirituality that accepts differences in belief and practice, and so it seeks to affirm what people share in common rather than just highlighting was sets us apart. Most importantly, it chooses compassion over competition, never seeking to win points at the expense of others but rather trying to find ways to help everyone to “win.”

  Another important quality of a healthy spirituality is that it almost always has a contemplative dimension to it. Therefore, I believe that a truly creative spirituality of work will likewise be contemplative in nature.

  I believe that in most of the world’s religions, you can find examples of both healthy and unhealthy types of spirituality, because these are human characteristics, not just expressions of religious teachings.

  So the first thing I would say: if we want a healthy spirituality-of-work, we need to begin by cultivating a healthy spirituality in general terms. Without the foundation of a spirituality grounded in contemplation, compassion and care, the likelihood of fostering a truly creative approach to the spirituality of work will likely get nowhere.

  What Would a Healthy Spirituality of Work Look Like?

  Looking at the broader picture, I’d like to suggest seven principles worth considering as we seek to foster a truly dynamic relationship between our inner lives and our work.

  1. A healthy spirituality of work understands that work is an integral part of life as a whole. Just as you cannot separate “spirituality” from the rest of life in a holistic way, likewise, work must be understood in a similar holistic way. If we have an unhealthy relationship with work, it will affect life in general. If we are aggressive and hyper-competitive in the workplace, those qualities will impact other areas of life. If we allow ourselves to behave unethically or without compassion in the workplace, we can be sure that this will impact other relationships as well, including the relationships we hold the most dear: with family and close friends. So the first key to a healthy spirituality of work is recognizing that we must find ways to be authentic about who we truly are: at work, as well as in our times of meditation and contemplation.
  2. A creative spirituality of work fosters inner growth and personal development, but also honors ordinary tasks. Many jobs, from cleaning the house to performing one specific task on an assembly line, may seem to be tedious and mundane — hardly a means to expressing personal growth or creativity. But even the most humdrum job can be improved upon, so there’s always room for some sort of positive change. Meanwhile, the fact that labor can be repetitive drudgery is not necessarily a bad thing, for all of human life has a cyclical quality to it. Cleaning, maintaining, repairing — some tasks by nature are “quotidian.” A spirituality of work acknowledges this, and finds meaning and purpose even in the most repetitive task. All work is valuable, no matter how creative or how commonplace any given job might be.
  3. A positive spirituality of work understands that spiritual virtues and values: such as hope, compassion, forgiveness, cooperation, among others — belong in the workplace as much as they belong in the home, at our place of worship, or in our recreational life. Life is built on relationships, every human being deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. We need to relate to coworkers, supervisors and employees, mentors and trainees, competitors and contractors, vendors and customers. While the purpose of work is not just to play fun and games, by nature these relationships will be formal and sometimes adversarial. A spirituality of work will acknowledge that work-based relationships have their own inherent value, and deserve to be based on an ethical understanding that people matter more than money or things.
  4. A meaningful spirituality of work recognizes that we need a purpose for work beyond just earning an income. Spiritually meaningful work has to be of service, and has to make a difference in people’s lives in a truly positive way. All work has an element of self-interest to it: I show up at the office every day because I need the income and the satisfaction of using my skills effectively. But if we stop with self-serving reasons for work, we cut ourselves off from much that can be truly rewarding. How does my work make a difference in the lives of others? How does it contribute to the common good? How will it make the world a better place, especially for my children? Such questions can help us discern the true value of our profession.
  5. A compassionate spirituality of work recognizes that the challenges of the marketplace — fierce competition, relentless urgency, and lack of customer loyalty — must be met with spiritual values that seek to elevate, rather than debase, our professional relationships. Work takes effort, and success requires discipline and demanding performance; it’s not easy, and it can be stressful and at times discouraging. A spirituality of work faces the challenges of our professional lives with confidence and industriousness, but also recognizes that when work seems meaningless or soulless, that sometimes we have to renew or labor with values that are bigger than the demands of the marketplace. Work is only one part of life, and so the values that govern life as a whole sometimes need to inform our work, to keep it meaningful.
  6. A joyful spirituality of work understands that hard work ennobles our humanity, but alienating or soul-crushing work is a problem that needs to be addressed. St. Benedict encouraged a life of both prayer and work because he recognized that even the hardest or dullest work can be occasions for prayer, if a person is so spiritually oriented. But likewise, even the most exciting or rewarding work can be soul-deadening if it occurs in a hostile environment or if the worker’s overall life is unbalanced. Part of any effort of labor is a willingness to discern what works about the work — and what doesn’t. The days of loyalty to the big corporation are over (the big corporations are rarely loyal to their workers!). So each laborer must be willing to make changes when necessary to keep their working lives spiritually rewarding.
  7. A contemplative spirituality of work recognizes that labor and prayer, or work and contemplation, ought to support each other. In the middle ages, monastic writers would sometimes talk about the difference between the “active” life (devoted to work) and the “contemplative” life (devoted to prayer, usually involving live in a monastery or convent). Nowadays, even monks and nuns recognize that they have to work just as much as anyone else, which is why so many religious communities brew legendary beer or make irresistible bread or cheese or candy. The split between prayer and work is fictitious: the most prayerful person still needs the dignity of labor, and the hardest worker still needs time for rest, reflection and renewal. In many professions, workers who wish to excel need to bring a contemplative mindfulness to their work.

  Perhaps you have other thoughts about how to effectively integrate spirituality and work. Whether practical ideas (having a meditation room in the office) or more theoretical, I think this is a conversation we all need to be having regularly. Making the effort to ensure that our work is spiritually meaningful will make a positive difference in our lives as a whole.

  Photo credit: Andrew Neel on Unsplash

  December 18, 2019

  contemplative practice, Labor, ora et labora, Right Livelihood, spirituality, St. Benedict, Work

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• Hospitality, Heart-to-Heart

  What is Christian hospitality? What does it mean to receive guests, strangers, travelers, pilgrims, refugees, as if we were receiving Christ himself? What does it mean to find Christ in all people, or as I put it the other day on Twitter…

  Hospitality, for Benedict, meant receiving guests as if they were Christ. So, for us, it means finding the Divine within all who come to us.

  — Carl McColman (@CarlMcColman) February 26, 2018

  This morning I received this response:

  It has become so common for us to say this, and hear it, etc., that I'd love it @CarlMcColman if you would devote a blog post to detailing what this might mean in a Christian's life. https://t.co/pltJQC4yX5

  — Jon M. Sweeney (@jonmsweeney) February 26, 2018

  So here are a few thoughts.

  Hospitality certainly has a Biblical foundation: in the words of Jesus in Matthew 25: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.”

  So welcoming the stranger forms the heart of Christian hospitality. But what does that mean?

  First, let’s relieve ourselves of overdoing the literal meaning: Jesus is not saying that everyone has to turn their homes into B&Bs, or for that matter, homeless shelters. The key word here is “welcome.”

  In Greek, it’s συνάγω or “synago” — the same word from which we get the word synagogue. Using my trusty Verbum software, I can see that synago means “to bring together, to gather; to assemble; to gather; to extend a welcome to; to collect; to pick up; to receive; to invite; to take care of; to lead; to lead into one’s house.”

  So clearly, Jesus is saying more than just our modern-day connotation of “welcoming” as a pleasant greeting.

  To welcome the stranger is to gather them into our community. This is why I think it’s more than just offering somebody a place to stay for the night. Granted, sometimes that is what hospitality entails, but more important is the heart of hospitality.

  You can welcome someone into your home, but not into your heart.

  On the other hand, when you welcome someone into your heart, whether or not they come into your physical home, you will be caring for them.

  I think the “assembly” dimension of synago is really important. We Americans tend to approach everything from a Lone Ranger mentality. If Jesus calls me to be hospitable, then the burden falls squarely on my shoulders. But that’s not what Jesus means. He wants us to be a welcoming community — which means we join together with others, to gather all in, welcoming the stranger into our hearts and into our lives.

  Both Matthew 25 and the Rule of Saint Benedict make it clear that when we welcome the stranger, we are in effect welcoming Christ. Therefore, to be persons of hospitality, we need to be in the habit of finding Christ in all people. But how do we do that?

  First, I think we have to be clear that Christ is present in our own hearts. By our baptism, we know that “the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5). Where the Holy Spirit is present, Christ is present.

  But what does it mean to know that Christ is present in our hearts? That the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit? This is where contemplation comes in. The prayer of silent love invites us to discover what has already been given to us. That we have hearts capable of love. That we are not alone — God is with us.

  When we recognize God’s presence in our lives, we learn to see with the eyes of love, which enables us to see Christ’s presence in the people we meet.

  And make no mistake: Christ is present in all people. Even the most notorious sinners.

  As Caryll Houselander put it in The Reed of God:

  Christ remains, being tempted in all those who are tempted: in those who are in mortal sin, He is in the tomb. We should never come to a sinner without the reverence that we would take to the Holy Sepulchre. Pilgrims have travelled on foot for years to kiss the Holy Sepulchre, which is empty. In sinners we can kneel at the tomb in which the dead Christ lies.

  Even in the heart of the most evil person, Christ hides… “in the tomb” — but awaiting resurrection.

  Most of us will fail at recognizing Christ in the heart of others, over and over again. But imagine if we truly did see Christ, in the hearts of all people. As Thomas Merton wryly noted in Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, “I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other.”

  “For now we see through a glass, darkly.” We may fail at truly seeing Christ in one another, but we know that this is what we are called to do. And by grace, sometimes we get glimpses of this truth. The more we look for Christ in one another, the more glimpses we receive.

  So we are called to acknowledge the love of God in our own hearts, to find Christ in the stranger, the pilgrim, the refugee, and then to welcome this person into our hearts. And to do this in the context of a loving community.

  From there, what are the particulars?

  Well, hospitality cannot be reduced to a program. It’s as individual as every person’s story, each one’s need, every relationship that God calls us into.

  Some just need to have their stories heard. Others need a helping hand. Others need a warm meal and a caring hug. And yes, some need a place to stay.

  Knowing what each invitation of hospitality will entail — only the heart can tell. Which is why hospitality begins in the heart. Not only our individual hearts, but the collective heart of our welcoming community.

  Hospitality requires great vulnerability and faith and trust. It takes us outside of our comfort zone. It introduces an element of chaos and unpredictability into our lives. It is messy and uncertain.

  And God is right in the middle of it all.

  February 26, 2018

  Christ, heart, hospitality, Jon Sweeney, St. Benedict

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• How Saint Benedict Can Help Us Grow Spiritually

  How can the wisdom of the monastery help folks like you and me — who are not monks or nuns — to grow spiritually?

  To answer that question, we can begin by looking at The Rule of Saint Benedict.

  The Rule of Saint Benedict remains one of the great classics of western spirituality, even though it was written for a very small and specific audience: monks and nuns. What on the surface looks like an administrative manual for the smooth operation of a monastery is actually a text full of profound wisdom.

  There’s so much there. In a short document (about 13,000 words, less than half the size of a typical paperback book), Benedict talks about prayer, humility, silence, hospitality, the spirituality of work, how to form and manage a community, all while turning one’s heart, mind, and eyes to the “deifying light” — the light of God which transfigures us from the inside out.

  While some sections of the Rule may seem overly administrative or obsolete (like Benedict’s detailed instructions over which Psalms should be prayed on what days, or his clearly pre-modern ideas about how best to discipline unruly boys), virtually all of its 73 chapters contain nuggets of spiritual insight.

  Today, however, I want to focus on just one sentence that comes toward the end of the book (chapter 58), in which Benedict spells out what a monk’s vows should consist of. Even if, like me, you are never going to make vows to become a nun or a monk, you may find the spirituality of these three vows to be a rich invitation to your own spiritual growth.

  Here’s the sentence, first in Latin and then in English:

  Suscipiendus autem in oratorio coram omnibus promittat de stabilitate sua et conversatione morum suorum et oboedientia.
  When [a new monk] is to be received, he comes before the whole community in the oratory and promises stability, fidelity to monastic life, and obedience.

  — Rule of St. Benedict 58.17

  So the vows of a monk or nun include:

  • stabilitate — stability
  • conversatione morum — fidelity to monastic life
  • oboedientia — obedience

  How can we relate the Benedictine Vows to life today? Words like stability, fidelity and obedience seem like quaint values, if not even dysfunctional, in today’s sophisticated but individualistic society. Perhaps we can unpack these terms a bit, and then we can more readily see their treasures.

  Stabilitate implies staying put, being grounded, being centered. For a monk or nun this was eminently practical: he or she vowed not to leave the community when things got tough. Those of us outside the monastery may find it impractical to commit to live in just one place: work or financial considerations may make it imperative to move. 

  So for us, the invitation is to an inner stability, being grounded not just in relation to the land where we find ourselves, but to the place within where we meet Christ and commit to live according to His teachings. So stability is really about relationship — just like a monk has a relationship to his monastery, so each of us is called to stability in all our relationships: to the land where we live, and also to our family, our community, and most important of all, to Christ.

  Therefore stability also invites us into integrity and authenticity, because the only way we can persevere in stable relationships is by being honest about who we truly are. It’s the “know thyself” vow.

  Conversatione Morum is perhaps the hardest of the vows the translate into English. The translation I quoted, by Timothy Fry, renders it as “fidelity to monastic life,” but other translators render it as “faithfulness to the way of life” (Luke Dysinger), “conversion of his way of life” (Carolinne White), or simply “to live as a monk” (Meisel & del Mastro). Google translate renders conversatione morum as merely “way of life.”

  If the first vow implies stability and groundedness, this one is more dynamic. It’s also a vow of commitment — of fidelity — but it is a commitment to a way of life that implies that ongoing healing, growth and transfiguration: in other words, ongoing conversion.

  This vow acknowledges that spirituality is not something mastered with a single decision or a one-time commitment. It requires on-going choices and commitment.

  Stability means knowing who you are, especially in relationship with others; fidelity to the spiritual life means making a commitment to grow, and understanding that growth and healing take time.

  The third vow may be the most scary one of all. Oboedientia — obedience — is a word we almost instinctive recoil at, assuming that it implies an unhealthy relationship based on power dynamics of dominance and submission. We think of the ordinary citizens of Nazi Germany who obediently committed crimes against humanity. If that’s what obedience is, who needs it?

  Thankfully, that’s not what obedience is — at least not in a Benedictine sense.

  Obedience comes from a Latin root word that implies not submission but listening — look at its similarity to the word “audience.” So at its root, obedience is about listening, paying attention, being mindful. For a monk this has a practical dimension of following the monastic chain of command: giving the Abbot and other community leaders the respect due to their office, if not to the individuals themselves.

  But on a deeper, more spiritual level — for all people, not just monks or nuns — obedience means listening for the still small voice of God.

  A spirituality of obedience is a spirituality of contemplative listening. It is a spirituality of mindfulness — of what St. Paul calls “having the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16). In Philippians 2, St. Paul links the mind of Christ with kenosis, or emptiness.

  Mindfulness, in this contemplative sense, means emptying ourselves of our agenda for power and control, instead adopting a gentle, spacious posture of willingness and listening. In short, a spirituality of obedience is a spirituality of contemplative silence.

  And in that space of contemplative silence, of deep listening, we make ourselves available to the very self-knowledge and continual conversion that we seek, that comes from within by the grace of the Holy Spirit.

  So there it is. A spirituality that begins with stable relationships and self-knowledge, opens up to continual growth and healing, which is facilitated through a lasting commitment to silent, contemplative prayer. This is what Benedict asks of his monks and nuns. And it is available to all of us who seek to walk in the ways of the Mystery of Christ.

  August 19, 2015

  conversatione morum, mindfulness, monastic life, obedience, Rule of Saint Benedict, St. Benedict, stability, vows, way of life

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• Contemplative Leadership with Saints Benedict and Ignatius of Loyola

  

  In recent months I have become very interested in the topic of leadership.

  Which might seem silly, since I do not manage people, or lead a congregation, or hold a military command position. But I’ve come to recognize that “leadership” is a topic that has broad implications, broader than just our job descriptions. And for those of us who embrace contemplative spirituality, it’s a topic that I think we need to be paying close attention to.

  In fact, let me make a couple of bold statements:

  • To be a contemplative means to be a leader.
  • And to be a good leader, one needs to be contemplative.

  Why do I say these things? Well, to begin with, everyone has a foundational task in leading your own self. Call it discipline, self-control, good habits, time management — it all boils down to our ability to shape our own lives and missions in constructive and consistent ways. Nobody’s perfect: we all make mistakes. But learning to lead ourselves in a better and more effective way is an important part of contemplative living.

  Good leaders do not dominate, but rather influence and inspire those they lead. Being a contemplative begins with allowing God to influence and inspire ourselves (there’s that self-leadership bit again), but that’s only the beginning. We receive God’s love, inspiration, and influence in order that we can then share it with others. The “others” we lead may or may not be people who we lead in an official capacity.

  I know from my years as a corporate manager that sometimes the most effective leaders in an organization do not enjoy any official status as leaders or managers whatsoever. Saint Benedict insists that sometimes the youngest member of a monastery may be the one who speaks the will of God — in other words, who has something to say that will provide healthy and constructive leadership for the entire organization. This holds true for other organizations as well.

  Since I’ve mentioned Saint Benedict already, maybe this is the place to say that I turn again and again to St. Benedict (found of western monasticism) and St. Ignatius of Loyola (founder of the Jesuits) for inspiration both in my spiritual life but also in my understanding of what it means to be an effective leader.

  They both exemplify a term I learned from Tilden Edwards: “mind-in-heart leadership.” This means something different than just relying on feelings or emotions when we lead. Rather, a mind-in-heart leader is one who leads out of prayer and contemplation: who allows listening, not-knowing or unknowing, trust, and seeking the face of God to shape one’s leadership style.

  I don’t think this model of leadership shows up in many business management textbooks! But it has guided the Benedictines and the Jesuits for centuries, and it can revolutionize our lives as well.

  I know not everyone who embraces contemplation see themselves as “leaders,” but I’d like to challenge you to do so. Because you have answered a call to listen for God in silence and trust, you have something to share with others. Don’t bury your talent or hide your light under a bushel. Be willing to inspire and influence others with your trusting, seeking heart.

  A question for you: Can you think of a practical way that contemplation and silent prayer influences you to be a better leader (even if the only person you’re leading is yourself)? If so, I’d like to know about it — please leave a comment and share your insight.

  May 6, 2015

  Contemplation, Leadership, Mind-in-Heart, St. Benedict, St. Ignatius of Loyola, wisdom

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• The Feast of St. Benedict: Ad Deificum Lumen

  Today is the feast of St. Benedict.

  

  This morning at mass, Father Tom Francis (who works with me at the Abbey Store) preached on the Rule and on his life experience as a Trappist monk for over 50 years now. During the sermon, he mentioned a conversation that he and I and another Lay Cistercian had a while back about a phrase in the prologue to the Holy Rule of St. Benedict: et apertis oculis nostris ad deificum lumen, which is often translated as “Let us open our eyes to the light that comes from God,” but which might more properly be translated as “Let us open our eyes to the deifying light.” I asked Fr. Tom about this, and he agreed with me that this is a rare example of a western mystic acknowledging the mystery of deification — and expanded on this in this morning’s sermon, which, by permission of Father Tom, I am happy to reprint here:

  11 July 2008 — Feast of St. Benedict — Homily by Fr. Thomas Francis, OCSO

  In 1951, I was given a copy of the Rule of St. Benedict, which eventually had to have its cover replaced, as the original one wore out. I can now say, “See, I have kept the Rule all these years!” I remember an aphorism of those days, given by both the Abbot and Novice Master and in all Religious Orders: “You keep the Rule and the Rule will keep you.” Of course that was a bum steer, a cliché of Religious life since the Council of Trent, when motivation for the following centuries was based mostly on “Keeping rules and regulations.” We are fortunate indeed to have had the Vatican Council re-examine these worn-out cliches, and restore us to Gospel values, rather than emphasizing conduct based on written law..

  Two weeks ago in the Abbey Store, we had an interesting conversation in our store, between Carl, our book buyer, Paco and myself. It concerned the Latin word used in the Prologue : in the expression, “Let us open our eyes to the deifying light.”. The term deificum is a rare Latin word, translated from the Greek word for “making divine”, what they referred to as “theosis” = divinizing, making God-like. That was their term for striving, as the Latin West preferred to say, for holiness, sanctification, perfection. The Greek Fathers, to this day, urge both monks and laity to Theosis, striving to become God-like, divinized. Benedict seized on the term, and used its adjectival form “deificum lumen.” Thomas Merton quoted the line in our reading from The Waters of Siloe at the Night Office this very morning.. Unfortunately neither he, nor Benedict, nor the vast majority of Latin writers unpacked the meaning of both the word and its full significance. Benedict used the adjective to modify “light”, a symbol for “divine meaning, intelligibility.”

  But in order NOT to be repetitive of past views, I would hope to be a bit creative with this term, and apply it to silence: silentium, “deificum silentium” — a value that pervades the Rule of Benedict

  Silence, as you all know, is not a virtue, like charity ,patience or humility. One does not make acts of silence. Rather it is a condition, a milieu, an environment in which something else takes place. We have been sharing on silence and solitude in our community discussions recently. As is well known, Benedict not only devoted a chapter (chapter 6) to this “condition”, but all through the Rule brings up its importance and value. For instance, in chapter 42, it is announced as the guiding principle of the whole of monastic life: “ At all times silence is to be cultivated by the monks, especially at night.” Complete silence in refectory and oratory; It’s value is mentioned in chapter 4 (good works), chapter 7 (humility), and elsewhere. So far I have merely repeated when and where this value of silence is expected.

  But as is my usual procedure, I’d like to start pushing the envelope. In the teaching of Jesus Himself on Prayer, He instructs all of us, “When you pray, go into your chamber ( your heart), close the door, and pray to your Father in secret.” The operative phrase, as I see it, is “close the door” = keep completely still, silent = shut down your normal consciousness, with its operations of thinking, desiring, imagining and remembering, especially and particularly the religious, biblical, ascetical, ideas, symbols, values, quotations.

  “Be still (silent), in the depths and totality of your be-ing, and know that I am God. I am the God that is divinizing you, making you God-like, and your principal role is to be silent, let the “deifying silence” of God divinize you. And let me push the envelope even further: “let the Triune God trinitize you = make you aware of the Trinity dwelling within you and the cosmos. Such is the kind of prayer Benedict wants for us monks; indeed, it is for all Christians.

  Let me end by quoting a line from our own Blessed Rafael Baron: “Let us be silent. Let us keep silence, for in it we will find our treasure, which is God” Triune! And so, whether you stick to the “deifying light” of the literal Rule, or the Trinitizing Love of a more “complete” interpretation, do have an enjoyable day!

  I told Father Tom after the mass that I believe this is the first time I have ever heard the Mystery of Deification addressed from a Christian pulpit. I hope it won’t be the last.

  July 11, 2008

  deification, Monastery of the Holy Spirit, St. Benedict

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