Wisdom from the Rule

Spiritual Lessons from St. Martin of Tours – An Icon of Charity

In conjunction with Veteran’s Day, on November 11^th, the Church also honors and annually recognizes the Patron Saint of veterans and conscientious objectors alike, our own University patron, St. Martin of Tours (316/318 – 397). Today, we will consider the most famous story associated with Martin, when he was still only a young adult and a member of the Roman army arriving into the French city of Amiens….

St Martin - Icon of Charity

And so at a certain time, when he possessed nothing more than his weapons and a single military uniform, in the middle of a winter that had raged more cruelly than usual, with the result that the power of the cold had extinguished many lives, he met a naked beggar at the gate of the city of Amiens. This man begged those who were passing by to pity him, but everyone was passing by his misery in silence.

Martin, full of God, understood that the beggar had been reserved for him, as the others were not extending mercy. What could he do? He had nothing more than the military cape that he was wearing for everything else had been used up in similar works. And so, taking the sword that he wore, he divided his cloak in half and gave part of it to the beggar. He put the other half back on. Some began to laugh about this deed because he looked unsightly with half of his uniform cut off. Nevertheless, many whose minds were more sensible moaned deeply because they had not done something similar, especially when they possessed more than enough to clothe a poor man without incurring their own nudity.

The following night, after he had fallen asleep, he saw Christ in the cloak, the part of the garment that he had used to cover the beggar. He was commanded to look most diligently at the Lord and to acknowledge the garment he had given as his own. Then he heard Jesus speaking in a clear voice to the multitude of angels who were standing around him, 'Martin, while still a catechumen, clothed me with this garment.' Truly the Lord was mindful of his own words that he had spoken before: 'Whatever you have done for one of the least of these, you have done for me.' He declared that through Martin's action towards the poor man, he had been clothed, and in order to offer testimony to confirm such a good work, he deigned to display himself dressed in the garment that the poor man had received.

The most blessed man was not carried away by this vision into human boastfulness, but rather he was becoming acquainted with the excellence of God in his work. (from Sulpicius Severus, Life of St. Martin, ch. 3)

Meditation:

Blessed St. Martin of Tours,
Obtain for us not only forgiveness,
but also a spirit of love towards neighbor, enabling us to be compassionate.
Obtain for us the grace to love all people
as brothers and sisters with a pure and disinterested heart.
May we, like you, one day enjoy
the blessed vision of God forever and ever.

Amen.

Spiritual Lessons from St. Martin of Tours – An Introduction

In conjunction with Veteran’s Day, on November 11^th, the Church also honors and annually recognizes the Patron Saint of veterans and conscientious objectors alike, our own University patron, St. Martin of Tours (316/318 – 397). Martin of Tours is one of the most compelling and beloved of the Saints –the 4^th Century cavalry soldier of the Roman army, later-turned conscientious objector to the pax Romana, missionary, exorcist, monk and Bishop.

Martin was born in present day Hungary where his father, a tribune in the Roman army, was stationed. He would later on spend much of his youth in Pavia, northern Italy before being conscripted as a young teenager into military service in part because of his father’s own military rank. Martin was born into a world of widespread and entrenched pagan influences, yet equally one wherein Christianity was no longer being officially persecuted by the Roman Empire due to the Edict of Milan in 313 promulgated by Constantine the Great. Nevertheless, this time was fraught with ambiguity and instability, as the Roman empire was teetering on its eventual collapse. Neither of Martin’s parents were baptized Christians, though in his later missionary work, having for a time returned back to his birthplace, his mother too would become baptized, while his father had adamantly refused Martin’s invitation.

In this volatile mix, Martin’s life in so many countless ways witnessed to the truths of the Gospel and a life of heroic virtue, humility and charity and was very quickly and universally seen as exemplary of how to live a life of Christian holiness in this new dawning era of uncertainty and instability. Martin would go on to serve in the Roman army for nearly ten years in the cavalry division – the reason why he is so often depicted as riding a horse – though it is frequently remarked that he refused many of the luxuries and privileges that went along with being a Roman officer, preferring instead a certain ‘monkish simplicity’. Of all the stories of Martin’s youth as a military officer, it is unquestionably one story that throughout the ages that best captures the compelling witness of Martin’s holiness – that is, the story of the Sword and the Cloak as Martin divides his cloak with a beggar.

In the following weeks, we will consider several “Spiritual Lessons” rooted in Martin’s life and based off of one who knew him personally, Sulpicius Severus. These stories are contained in Severus’ Life of Martin (first published in 396) as they attest both Martin’s implacable resolve and charitable ‘foolishness’, as well as his wise example in exemplifying the marks of Christian holiness and sanctity – so much so that he deeply won the admiration of another monk that would soon come after him – none other than St. Benedict himself.

Meditation:

“The holy man [St. Benedict] went to another place, but he had the same enemy. For after enduring such serious battles, now he found the master of evil fighting openly against him. Now the citadel called Casinum [Monte Cassino] is located on the side of a high mountain…. There was an ancient temple there in which Apollo used to be worshiped….When the man of God [Benedict] arrived….he built a chapel dedicated to St. Martin in the temple of Apollo…. And he summoned the people of the district to the faith by his unceasing preaching.”

(Gregory, Life of St. Benedict, 7, 10-11)

Amen.

Prayer – A University Perspective

As a student here at 91ֱ��’s, prayer has come to take many forms in my day-to-day living and learning on campus. I pursue our Lord not only in an intentional way sacramentally, but in the ordinary of my day through mental prayer.

Attending 91ֱ��’s has blessed me with constant reminders of the Lord’s presence in my academic pursuits. The tolling of the Abbey Bell tower, the crucifix in every classroom, and the icons across campus all prompt me to pray, and so I talk to the Lord constantly. I ask for patience in a tough lecture, and share my joy after an aced exam. As I walk to class, I’ll listen to the Gospel for the day, or Fr. Mike’s minute homily. I scribble ‘JMJ’ across the top of every assignment, dedicating my academics to the Holy Family.

Nothing reminds me of my need for the Lord more than my athletic pursuits. I invite him into my every experience as an SMU Saint; easy runs, races, those late night lifts and bus rides. The Lord is the ultimate teammate!

He holds my hand through every elation and sorrow that distance running has to offer. I talk to him at every practice, but most especially during competition. As butterflies rage in my stomach in the hours leading up to race day, I ask for his strength. When my legs and aerobic system begin to burn, I offer my suffering up for something greater than myself. I pray for my teammates and coaches, that they may be granted peace and courage. Most of all, I give thanks for the privilege it is to be running for the Saints. Before each race, I cross myself, whisper quietly to my guardian angel, and take a deep breath, confident that I am not running alone.

My intentional prayer time in the Abbey is often where I find the most peace on campus. I aim to attend daily Mass at least once a week, followed by adoration in the Abbey chapel. I pull out my rosary and simply rest in the Lord’s presence, petitioning Our Lady for her blessing over my family and friends, the Church, and any special intentions. In the quiet of that little chapel, I tell our Lord and his mother my every thought. My joys, sorrows, hopes and worries. As I wrap my hand in my rosary, I ask for their grace and guidance in everything that I do.

I know that when I leave that chapel and return to the noise of everyday life that I am not doing so alone. As I attend class, compete in athletics, and interact with my community, I’m reminded that our Lord is not exclusively found in the Abbey’s tabernacle; he walks with me daily. He is my Creator, Savior, and friend.

Meditation:

‘Mental prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends.’

(St. Teresa of Avila)

Amen.

Prayer: An Oblate Perspective

As an Oblate of Saint Benedict, I have discovered that prayer is not merely one facet of my life, but it is the very heartbeat. From the moment I wake up before dawn I am drawn into a quiet vigil where the world is still and my soul is alert. In those earliest hours, I settle before a flickering candle on a small prayer table, open my breviary and a well-worn Bible, and begin lectio divina. I read the Psalms slowly, allowing each phrase to resonate in the depths of my heart. It is here, guided by the Holy Rule’s exhortation to “listen with the ear of your heart,” that I learn to distinguish God’s gentle prompting amid the day’s rising demands.

By midmorning, the ancient rhythm of the liturgy of the hours carries me into communal prayer, even when that community is my own household. As my family begins their day with sleepy chatter, I pray the invitatory and hymns.  Their laughter and questions weave into my petitions like spontaneous canticles, reminding me that the domestic sphere is no less sacred than that of the abbey. The simple blessing we share over the first cup of coffee and the words of the psalm response echo in our kitchen, transforming routine into ritual.

Throughout the busy hours that follow, I cultivate a posture of mindfulness rooted in Benedict’s insistence that “nothing be preferred to the work of God.” Whether I am drafting an email to a friend burdened by grief, making lunches at the community kitchen or helping my children with their school assignments, I pause regularly to breathe deeply and name a blessing. These micro-moments of awareness tether me to God’s presence and help me to approach every task, however humble, as an offering.

When afternoon light streams through the stained glass of the abbey, I join monks, novices, and fellow oblates for mid-day prayer. Standing shoulder to shoulder in the shared cadence of psalms and canticles, I experience the Benedictine Oblate promises of obedience and stability not as constraints but as lifelines. Our unified voices remind me that fidelity to prayer binds us in solidarity, nurturing compassion that extends far beyond the walls of the abbey church into the world we serve.

Evening draws my family back to lectio divina in a more intimate form. My spouse and I read passages from the prophets or the Gospels, pausing when a single verse seems to glow. We share what stirs within us, hope, conviction, or sometimes discomfort, and listen deeply to one another. In this sacred dialogue, we enact “conversatio morum”, the vow to live with and for one another, discovering that mutual vulnerability becomes the soil in which humility and integrity take root.

As night falls, I practice the examen, gently reviewing the day’s moments in the light of God’s mercy. I recall times when I spoke too hastily, failed to listen, or grew impatient with others. I also give thanks for unexpected graces: a neighbor’s consoling word, a child’s earnest question about faith, a moment of clarity in silent prayer. These reflections are invitations to conversion of heart, echoing Benedict’s call to continual transformation and deeper dependence on God’s love.

In weaving liturgy, lectio divina, and mindful presence through my personal, familial, and communal life, I have come to see that an Oblate’s calling is not to retreat from the world but to engage it with an open, attentive heart. Though I do not reside within monastery walls, the Benedictine rhythm shapes every facet of my day and life. My ordinary tasks become pathways to holiness, my relationships arenas for grace, and my interior life a reflection of eternity itself. Through sacred reading, communal worship, and mindful presence, my life becomes, in Saint Benedict’s words, “an image of eternity.”

Meditation:

“Your way of acting should be different from the world’s way; the love of Christ must come before all else.” (RB 4,20- 21)

Amen.

Prayer: A Monastic Perspective

Liturgy and Eucharist

Monks have a daily schedule of prayer and devotions both public and private. In the Sacred Liturgy (Mass), we have the chance to have a real encounter with our Lord. We believe that Christ is truly Present in the host and wine consecrated into the actual body and blood of our Lord and that it is not just a symbol. With the Eucharistic presence we can better focus on what is truly important and of value.

We have a formal spiritual moment, an encounter with the Divine, to change our life for the better, to ash what He wants of us, to really pray, to make ourselves available to the Lord and as it is part of our daily routine, we have a chance to know God better - a chance to know God and not just “about God” – and to be reminded of how much God loves us and how close God wants to be with us and that we would want the same with Him.

Being in the presence of the Sacred Eucharist in the tabernacle brings order to our disordered lives. We need to enter and place our self in Sacred Space to find quiet and peace. When troubled or carrying heavy burdens and weighed down with questions and doubts, we find relief, answers, understanding.

Lectio Divina (Sacred Reading) of Holy Scripture

We read slowly to get the flavor, a fuller, deeper meaning of what we read, to pause and contemplate and to let God speak to us through what we read.

We read not merely for intellectual knowledge, head knowledge, but for heart knowledge.

It is said that the bible is God’s love letter to the human race and to us as individuals. When you are in love, you want to know what the one you love has to tell you. And, you want to tell the beloved what is in your heart.

It is also a time for asking questions and receiving answers, for each of us has a multitude of questions, troubles, worries and concerns:

“Who am I?”
“What am I?”
“God, what do you want me to be?”
“Why am I here?”
“How do I do what I need to do in my life?”
“Where am I going?”

WE have problems in our life and sometimes in our spiritual and devotional reading, God provides an answer. We receive guidance, depth, widen our outlook. We can find ourselves challenged. We discover that our relationship with God is not just a God and I thing, but it is also a God, I and neighbor thing. Our relationships with all that we meet, all those we know. We move beyond our self. We receive food for the soul and refreshment for the spirit that gives us strength.

We are called to action. With Lectio Divina and Sacred, Devotional Reading it is not just read it and forget it. We are called to actually do something with it in our daily life. We need to think about it, to pause, meditate, contemplate what we have read. Lectio is not just “nice thoughts” that we do not take seriously and do nothing about it. We are called to action, to do something with it in our daily life.

Leaven in our daily spiritual life

To conclude, the Eucharist (both in Mass and the Sacred Host in the Tabernacle) are both important in our daily life. They are a leaven in our daily spiritual life. What do I mean when I say “leaven”? It causes you to grow. It courses through your being. It causes you to bring forth fruit, and to bring forth beauty and goodness. It gives you meaning and purpose. It causes you to love. It opens your heart to grow and expand. It allows you to be open to great possibilities. It allows you to let other into your life. In being open and present in the Eucharist at mass and the consecrated host in the tabernacle, you can visit as your time allows and in Lectio Divina of Sacred Scripture, you are called to listen with the ear of the heart, spirit, soul. You are offered the chance to have a warm, deep, loving, intimate relationship with the Divine.

Meditation:

“Let us open our eyes to the light that comes from God, and our ears to the voice from heaven that every day calls out…”

(RB Prologue 9)

 Amen.

Prayer: A Life Marked by Liturgy, Lectio and Mindfulness

We continue our weekly series, Wisdom from the Rule, by considering a diversity of sources and perspectives over the next few weeks on the second of the ten Benedictine Hallmarks concerning the centrality of “Prayer”. We will follow the same rhythm as we have done in the past few weeks, beginning today with a short introduction, before turning to a diversity of perspectives in the following weeks: from a monastic reflection, to that of an oblate and finally a University reflection on this central hallmark.

Prayer – the raising of one’s heart and mind to God; it is knowing and loving the truth of Christ that sets one free; recognizing this truth in the dignity one’s neighbor, willing their authentic good, responding to their needs and petitioning God on their behalf - these are but some of the ways of saying how “prayer” is absolutely central to both Christian life in general and Benedictine life in particular.

The famous Benedictine motto: “Ora et Labora” or, its slight variant: “Ora, Labora et Lege” [Prayer, work and study] makes clear where one is to engage in the life-long “search for God”. This motto encapsulates the totality of the monk’s life. By implication, there is no zone of ethical or moral neutrality wherein supposedly “God is somehow not there”. Rather, prayer is suitable for all places and at all times, since God is everywhere and the life of prayer is one’s response to God by way of living in rhythm and harmony with God and neighbor alike in all things.

Sometimes, the beauty of prayer can be harmonious and rhythmic. It can be formalized, such as in communal prayer – in the liturgy of the hours; the celebration of the Mass; or the silent adoration of Christ in the Eucharist. Other times, prayer can be more spontaneous, as in sudden moments of gratitude, or suffering, or joy in personal prayer. The life of prayer can be cultivated through the discipline of personal habits, such as intentionally observing silence for a few moments during the morning and evening, or through study and spiritual reading, known as “lectio divina”.

Prayer is equally at the center not only of a Catholic university such as St. Martin’s, but for that matter, any education – regardless whether it is “private” or “public”. That is, any education that seeks to cultivate in its students both procedural goods and methods, such as critical reasoning, but also substantive goods, such as truth, goodness, beauty, unity and a life of virtue – is an education characterized by the centrality of prayer.

The early 20^th Century Jewish French writer Simone Weil (1909 – 1943) famously makes this point when she argues that all learning is fundamentally oriented to prayer as

“prayer consists of attention” and that “[a]lthough people seem to be unaware of it today, the development of the faculty of attention forms the real object and almost the sole interest of studies.”

Simone Weil’s point is to draw attention to various common student activities and show how, at root, these are but occasions of prayer. From the student patiently struggling through a geometry problem; or the lab-science student peering through the lens of a microscope; the nursing student learning how to observe a medical patient while tending to their needs at bedside; or the humanities student struggling to memorize verb tenses or declensions while learning a new language; these and countless other educational activities, Weil reminds us, cultivate in us both the procedural and substantive goods of education, actualizing in us the faculty of attention – that is, our ‘���Գٱ����������Գ���’ -  whereby “our studies… makes of them a preparation for spiritual life, for desire directed toward God is the only power capable of raising the soul.”

The cultivation of intelligence and the faculty of attention is what the Benedictine Hallmark similarly identifies as “mindfulness”, to which Weil pragmatically observes:

“Twenty minutes of concentrated, untired attention is infinitely better than three hours” of what we would today call ‘multitasking’ while studying…

That is, doing a bit of study and reading; listening to your favorite music playlist; continuing for a few minutes with a text chat from earlier on in the morning; checking up on the score of my favorite team; going back to studying for a bit; emailing my professor; finishing up that last problem, after which, two to three hours passes, we conclude, “’I have worked well!’

By contrast, Simone Weil famously argues, of course, that what is good is often far more difficult. Two to three hours of multi-tasking if far easier than twenty minutes of undivided attention in study, regardless of the subject-matter. More difficult, yet infinitely more better, both in the short and long term. Studying, in this manner, she describes as much “like a sacrament”, it is a “waiting upon truth [and] setting our hearts upon it”. It is, in short, a matter of prayer.

Let us now conclude these introductory remarks with how this primary hallmark is aspired to both within monastic and the university contexts.

Monastic Context: Benedictine monasteries cultivate a fundamental attentiveness to the ways in which God is present in the human mind and heart and, indeed, in all creation. The primary way for doing this is through the monastery’s daily rhythm of liturgical prayer. St. Benedict directs that nothing is to be preferred to it (RB 43.3). This daily experience of community prayer is supported and deepened by individual spiritual reading, a practice that Benedictines call by its Latin name, lectio divina, in order to differentiate it from reading undertaken to gain information or knowledge. Lectio divina is the slow meditative reading of Scriptures and other sacred texts with the intention of discerning how God is at work right now in the world and calling within the individual’s own heart. For a monastic, the daily movement between common liturgical prayer and lectio divina opens up new space within where qualities and virtues such as compassion, integrity and courage can develop and grow strong.

University Context: Benedictine educational institutions seek to create and preserve a noticeable rhythm of public prayer and private attention to the sources of religious inspiration. We strive to ensure that the design and life of the campus promotes a spirit of transcendence and mindfulness, encouraging all to cultivate a life of prayer appropriate to their own faith. The intent of all of this is to cultivate by analogy a fundamental openness to the work of intellectual and personal transformation. It is important that the thinking of all members – students, faculty and staff – be shaped by movement between shared engagement with ideas and close personal reading of “texts” (whether written, aural or visual). It is our intent to foster connections between the subjects that persons study and the fundamental, deep purpose of their lives.

Meditation:

“When the time comes for one of the Divine Offices to begin, as soon as the signal is heard [the bell], everyone must set aside whatever they may have in hand and hurry as fast as possible to the oratory, but of course they should do so in a dignified way which avoids giving rise to any boisterous behavior. The essential point is that nothing should be accounted more important than the work of God.”

(RB 43, 1-3)

Amen.

Love of Christ & Neighbor – A University Perspective

“We praise those who love their friends, and it is counted a noble thing to have many friends; and some people think that a true friend must also be a good person.”

These words are found at the beginning of Aristotle’s treatment of friendship in his Nicomachean Ethics, and serve as a starting-point for his reflections. At the basis of friendship is reciprocated goodwill, and friendship is a necessary component in real human flourishing. Outlining three distinct forms of friendship—namely, friendship of utility, friendship of pleasure, and complete friendship—Aristotle’s discussion allows us to reflect carefully on the kinds of relationships we sustain. It is important to note that even the ‘incomplete’ friendships of utility and pleasure are, indeed, nonetheless friendships. A mere business transaction between two people does not really constitute the friendship of utility; the persons who exchange goods and services are not immediately considered friends, even though both parties are mutually beneficial to the other.

And yet, surely we are able to recognize friendships that are maintained on the basis of some benefit or judgment of usefulness. In such a friendship, does my love for the other extend to their person? Aristotle remarks: “friends whose affection is based on utility do not love each other in themselves, but only insofar as some benefit accrues to them from each other.”

The same applies to the friendships that are rooted in pleasure. Aristotle offers the example of a witty conversational partner—if I delight in the clever jokes and observations of a friend over a coffee break, this is not useful for me, but is a pleasing accompaniment to my beverage. While this moves beyond the friendship of utility, it does not reach far enough. Such forms of friendship come up short if we take seriously the claim that

friendship requires reciprocated goodwill; that is, to love the other in themselves and not simply because they are pleasing in some way or might be able to assist me when I might require it.

Perhaps unfortunately for us, Aristotle might place too high a standard for complete and perfect friendship, since it requires that both individuals be equal in virtue. The insight here, however, is that the person cultivated in the virtues is themselves truly loveable, and, on account of their virtues, is able to love properly.

Aristotle’s discussions concerning friendship are not without their difficulties—for example, Aristotle might come across as a bit harsh and lacking charity when he asserts that the virtuous person is not able to love the person afflicted with vice—but nonetheless provide us with the occasion to reflect on his ideal of friendship and the ways in which we nourish relationships with those we love. We might discover a sort of double charge: to strive to cultivate a life that is noble and virtuous, and thus loveable, and to love our friends without qualification, encouraging them as well towards virtue.

Meditation:

"Friendship is true only when You bind friends fast to each other through that love poured in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who is given to us."

(Augustine, Confessions IV.4)

Amen.

Love of Christ & Neighbor – An Oblate Perspective

The Benedictine hallmark of 'Love of Christ and Neighbor' calls us to a radical generosity that offers an alternative to our culture's tendency to overlook the plight of the needy. Imagine walking down the street and seeing someone in need; what do you do? Our culture has largely conditioned us to overlook the plight of the needy, especially those experiencing homelessness. In the United States, generosity towards the needy is often seen as reductive or punitive. As a Benedictine Oblate, I've come to appreciate generous giving, especially when offered in the spirit of 'Love of Christ and Neighbor,' as multiplicative, not reductive.

When I hear the phrase 'Love of Christ and Neighbor,' my initial thought turns to my physical neighbors: the people who live next to me. As an Oblate, I strive to live so that the Love of Christ is apparent to everyone who interacts with our family. In daily life, this takes the form of simple acts of charity and hospitality, such as spending quality time with family and friends in the park, offering a kind greeting to people we encounter, and hosting potluck dinners. This initial understanding then leads to the broader question:

Who are my neighbors, and how do I transmit the Love of Christ to those beyond my immediate family, friends, or physical neighbors?

The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10, 25-37)decisively expands our definition of 'neighbor' beyond proximity or affiliation, challenging us to recognize all who are in need as deserving of our compassion. Furthermore, the Corporal Works of Mercy provide a tangible framework for expressing this godly love in action: feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, visiting the sick, and more. Figures like St. Martin of Tours, who famously shared his cloak with a beggar he later recognized as Christ, and Dorothy Day with the Catholic Worker movement, offer powerful, real-world examples of how this expanded definition of 'neighbor' and loving framework can be expressed through dedicated service to the homeless, the poor, and the disenfranchised. These aspirations find deep resonance within the Rule of St. Benedict, particularly in Chapter 34, 'Distribution of Goods According to Need,' which reminds us to provide for our brothers and sisters in proportion to their necessities. This calls us to a posture of radical generosity—a willingness to freely give without expectation (cf. Lk 10, 30).

Unlike a monk, whose spiritual life is largely structured within the monastery walls Benedictine Oblates are similarly bound—not to a cell, but to the greater community surrounding the monastery. This unique calling provides the opportunity to apply the wisdom of the Rule directly within the fabric of the secular world.

As a Benedictine Oblate in the Pacific Northwest, attempting to live these principles takes me directly to the street corner, where one encounters the homeless and destitute actively begging nearly every day. Here, I choose to embrace an ethos of 'Radical Generosity': freely giving to people who are in need and ask for help.

Personally, this often takes the form of simply giving a $5 bill and a blessing to whichever person asks me first that day. It may seem frivolous to some, but after actively factoring it into my budget, I view it as an incredible investment. For less than the price of a Starbucks mocha, you could transmit the Love of Christ to a local 'neighbor' in need by unconditionally and freely giving five dollars. What seems more valuable: spending roughly $72 a month on twelve mochas, or setting aside $60 a month to generously give to twelve individuals in need? Beyond these personal encounters on the streets, my Oblate commitment also leads me to participate in local charities that provide essential services to the homeless, including free access to showers and haircuts, foot clinics, soup kitchens, and overnight shelters.

I believe the seemingly small gesture of greeting a person warmly, giving a small amount of money unconditionally when asked, and offering a blessing serves to affirm the intrinsic and infinite human dignity of every individual. We all find ourselves in need in some way or another. I know I have, and when I've found myself in those situations, the generosity and understanding of another human being can provide a huge emotional, mental, and even spiritual boost. Such generosity has changed the trajectory of my thoughts, hopes, and actions for the rest of the day, if not the rest of my life.

The wisdom I've gleaned from these direct encounters is that one doesn't have to be wealthy to give freely. Often, it is the poorest, the very people who are in most need, who readily give generously from what little they have whenever they’re asked by another person in need. I think that’s because they know what it's like to be in need, and that engenders a type of empathy that, unfortunately, most well-off individuals integrated into polite society are simply blind to. This blindness often manifests in common objections to direct giving.

The most common challenge I hear when people see me freely give to someone in need is something like, "Don't you know they'll just buy drugs and alcohol with that money? Why not give them food and water instead?" To which I usually reply, "It's not my concern what they use the money for. They asked, so I gave.” I find this attitude to be an exercise in personal humility, as I must actively try not to presume what the person will use the money for; it's also an opportunity to exercise hope and faith in God's providence. I pray that by simply giving without presuming, the recipient will experience a fleeting reprieve from the judgment of our materialistic, secular society. And that might be just enough for someone to decide they are worthy of love—namely, the Love of Christ and the love of their Neighbor.

This approach to loving generosity offers tangible opportunities for students, faculty, and staff at 91ֱ��'s University to practice expressing the 'Love of Christ and Neighbor' in small, personally meaningful ways. Students, often navigating the financially precarious waters of college debt, are no strangers to need. They can readily find and empathize with struggling peers, fostering a vital culture of generous giving right within the school community. Beyond campus, faculty and staff can extend this impactful university culture by organizing outreach for those experiencing homelessness in our local community.

Ultimately, the wisdom of the Benedictine Rule, brought to life through the Oblate's journey of radical generosity, reveals a profound truth: loving generosity is not reductive; it's multiplicative. By choosing to love Christ and love your neighbor as yourself, we can all experience the regenerative and transformative power of grace, which can take us one step closer to experiencing heaven on earth.

Meditation:

“Just as there is a wicked zeal of bitterness which separates from God and leads to hell, so there is a good zeal which separates from evil and leads to God and everlasting life.” (RB 72)

Amen.

Love of Christ & Neighbor –A Monastic Perspective

Benedictine life is cenobitic, meaning monks live in community, and love for neighbor is perfected in this shared life. The monastery is a microcosm of the Church, where brothers learn to love one another through daily interactions, shared meals, and communal work. St. Benedict instructs, “No one is to pursue what he judges better for himself, but instead, what he judges better for someone else” (RB 72:7). This selflessness is the essence of love for neighbor, requiring humility and patience.

St. Bernard echoes this, emphasizing that love for neighbor flows from love for God: “To love our neighbor’s welfare as much as our own, that is true and sincere charity out of a pure heart” (Sermons on the Song of Songs, 50.8). In the monastery, this charity manifests in small acts—listening to a brother, forgiving a fault, or serving at table. For monks, community life tests your capacity to love others, especially when differences arise.

Ask yourself: Can I love my neighbor in his imperfections, as God loves me in mine?

The Rule provides practical tools for this love. Chapter 4, “The Tools for Good Works,” lists acts of charity: “Relieve the lot of the poor… visit the sick… do not repay one evil for another” (RB 4:14–17). These acts, rooted in love, shape the monk into a man of compassion. As a discerner, practicing these in your current life—through service, kindness, or forgiveness—prepares you for the monastic call to love.

Loving God and neighbor in the monastery is not without challenges. The intensity of community life reveals personal weaknesses—impatience, pride, or judgment. Silence and solitude, while fostering love for God, can also expose inner struggles that make loving others difficult. St. Benedict acknowledges this, urging monks to “bear one another’s burdens” (RB 72:7), a reminder that love requires perseverance.  St. Bernard offers insight into this struggle: “The measure of loving God is to love him without measure, but the measure of loving our neighbor is to love him as ourselves” (On Loving God, XV.39). In community, much like the family, this means embracing the tension between the ideal of perfect love and the reality of human imperfection. The monastery is a place to grow in love, not to achieve it instantly.

The love of God and neighbor transforms the monk, making him a living icon of Christ. St. Benedict envisions this in his call to “run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love” (RB Prologue:49). This love is not static but dynamic, growing through daily fidelity to prayer, work, and community.  St. Bernard sees this transformation as a journey toward union with God: “To love God is to be changed into God” (On Loving God, X.28). In the monastery, love for God purifies the heart, while love for neighbor makes that purity visible.

The love of God and neighbor is the heart of Benedictine life, uniting the monk’s prayer, work, and relationships in a single offering to God. St. Benedict calls you to “prefer nothing whatever to Christ” (RB 72:11), while St. Bernard reminds you that “God himself is the reason why he is to be loved” (On Loving God, I.1). Let these saints guide you to a love that seeks God above all and embraces your neighbor as yourself. May your journey be one of love, leading you to the path God has prepared.

Meditation:

No one is to pursue what he judges better for himself, but instead, what he judges better for someone else. (RB 72.7)

Amen.

Love of Christ & Neighbor – Always moving closer to the Center

We will begin our annual series, Wisdom from the Rule, by considering a diversity of sources and perspectives over the next few weeks on the first of the ten Benedictine Hallmarks, “Love of Christ and Neighbor”. Briefly, let us organize these introductory remarks into three parts: “Christ”, “Love” and finally, “Neighbor”.

Christ. As a Catholic, Benedictine, Liberal Arts university, we are rooted in our faith and never ending search for God in all things. As a Liberal Arts University, the ‘search for God in all things’ makes clear that such an education is intentionally dialogical, broad and wide, encompassing perspectives both sacred and secular, in all of the various branches of the sciences – whether that be in the humanities, social and/or natural sciences. What holds these various disparate perspectives together in unity, as one University, is the truth claim of Jesus Christ as Lord, as our center. Affirming such a center, however, never makes us uniform. Neither does it erase the value of our differences, which necessarily happens when we instead make ourselves the center. St. Benedict’s language is very clear in affirming both our need for human community and our need for human healing, of which the tragedies of daily news headlines factually remind us all too often. Set in stark relief between the reality of good and evil, this is why Benedict states that we should “value nothing whatever above Christ himself” (RB 72,11).

Love. Such a centralizing truth claim is not merely a cold, abstract, logical idea. Rather, this truth, this center is encountered as a living Person, inviting us to draw close and to become intimate, not only to know, but to understand and to love and desire our never ending search for truth, our never ending drawing closer and closer to the center. Here, we encounter the difference of a St. Martin’s education, not merely as informative, yet as transformative of ourselves. This is what is meant by an education oriented towards “wisdom”, which holds “truth and love together as inseparable, as a ‘solid circle’ so that it is impossible to know the truth without practicing charity: ‘because one is in the other and neither of the two [Truth and Love] exists outside the other. Therefore, whoever has this truth has with it the charity that fulfils it, and whoever has this charity has the truth fulfilled.’” (Ad theologiam promovendam, n.7)

Neighbor. Is my love and understanding of truth an individual pursuit, solely for myself? Who is my neighbor and to whom am I responsible? There is a famous saying from the 6^th Century Desert Father, Dorotheus of Gaza on the “Refusal to Judge our Neighbor” wherein he uses an analogy of the circle that speaks directly of how drawing ever-closer to the truth and love of this center equally draws us closer to one another. Dorotheus writes:

“Imagine that the world is a circle, that God is the center, and that the radii are the different ways human beings live. When those who wish to come closer to God walk towards the center of the circle, they come closer to one another at the same time as to God. The closer they come to God, the closer they come to one another. And the closer they come to one another, the closer they come to God….Now consider in the same context the question of separation; for when they stand away from God and turn to external things, it is clear that the more they recede and become distant from God, the more they become distant from one another. See! This is the very nature of love.” (Instructions VI)

Let us now conclude these introductory remarks with how this primary hallmark is aspired to both within monastic and the university contexts.

Monastic Context: Benedictine life, like that of all Christians, is first and foremost a response to God’s astonishing love for humankind, a love expressed in the free gift of his beloved Son, Jesus Christ. Love, the motive for monastic life and its goal, tops St. Benedict’s list of tools for good works (RB 5:10, 7:67-69, 4.1-2). Yet the Rule recognizes many ways in which monastics can fail to ground their lives in love. It sets up personal and communal practices that deal directly with human selfishness wherever it occurs and seeks to heal the resulting harm to one’s self and others. Ultimately it is the power of God’s love that is decisive. Indeed, the crowning good work for the monastic is “never to lose hope in God’s mercy” (RB 4:74).

University Context: Benedictine colleges and universities seek, above all, to be grounded in love and animated by it. The “love of learning and desire for God,” so celebrated as part of Benedictine culture, 7 make demands on all and are expansive enough to engage the deepest purpose of persons from all backgrounds who desire to teach and to study, to serve and to lead. We call all to pursue a rigorous and disciplined search for truth and to support one another when that quest becomes difficult . We recognize how easy it is for all to hold on to habits of mind and behavior that diminish one’s own potential or impede the development of others. Yet we possess a confidence borne of long experience in the capacity of all persons to grow and develop, to cultivate habits of mind and behavior that are life-giving and contribute to the good of all.

Meditation:

“All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say: ‘I was a stranger and you welcomed me’. (RB 53,1)

Amen.

Welcome.

This is an initiative from the Benedictine Institute of 91ֱ��'s University, featuring a series of spiritual reflections surrounding the Rule of St. Benedict, Benedictine Spirituality more broadly and certain foundational Christian and Catholic themes that are particularly relevant to the life and mission of our university here at 91ֱ��'s.

Throughout the semester, a new Wisdom from the Rule reflection will be sent out on the first day of the new academic week, as well as occasionally distributed on various social media platforms. For this year, in continuation from last year's concentration on the specific hallmarks of "Conversatio", "Stability" and "Obedience", our focus will continue to center around the various Ten Benedictine Hallmarks. For the Fall semester, we will focus on the first two hallmarks:

• Love of Christ and Neighbor
• Prayer: A life marked by liturgy, lectio and mindfulness

We will engage with a diversity of lived perspectives on these common Hallmarks, ranging from monastic members and 91ֱ��’s University voices, to that of our Benedictine Oblates – lay members, in various stations of life, who embrace the wisdom of St. Benedict’s Rule and seek to incorporate its structure and virtuous habits within the rhythm of their daily lives. An archive of previous reflections is available to easily access at the  Wisdom from the Rule Archive. Additionally, we will dedicate the months of November and March to focusing specifically on our University’s Patrons, St. Martin (November) and St. Benedict (March) in marking their respective feast days with a series of reflections to further our community’s knowledge and appreciation.

Whoever you are – student, faculty or staff member, monk, oblate or friend of our university, these weekly reflections are for you. 

Wherever you are in terms of your own spiritual journey, intellectual and moral quest for truth and understanding, meaning and purpose, these weekly reflections are for you.

Why the Wisdom from the Rule? The human person, regardless of one’s specifically articulated beliefs or lack thereof, naturally remains uneasy, anxious and at unrest when failing to grasp the why of things. This is a question not of knowledge, but of wisdom. We are created to seek out this why, to seek after wisdom, purpose and the meaning of things. One can be very well informed, full of education and credentials, and yet lack wisdom. 

“Indeed, you love truth in the heart; then in the secret of my heart teach me wisdom.” (Ps 51, 6) 

Moreover, the Rule of St. Benedict and over 1500 years of Benedictine experience continues to attest that it offers a way of life that is both “ever ancient” in terms of its permanence and stability, as well as “ever new” in its continued flexibility and adaptability amid vast changes and upheavals throughout the centuries.

St. Benedict begins his Rule with “Listen” [Obsculta]. The question for you is how will you respond?

Easter Joy – “Christ is Risen. He is Risen Indeed!”

Christ is Risen. He is Risen indeed!

To the 91ֱ��’s community, from students and staff, faculty, monks, oblates and friends, from the Benedictine Institute – Happy Easter.

Having concluded our twelve weeks of reflections upon the three Benedictine vows of conversatio, stability and obedience, we wanted to conclude this series of Wisdom from the Rule this semester (don’t worry, we will be back in the Fall) on the wider implications of the Easter faith in the Resurrected Christ. This week, Abbot Marion Nguyen OSB will offer to us some very apt and poignant reflections on where Easter begins, as seen from the perspective of Mary Magdalen, who approaches Christ’s empty tomb in the early hours “when it was still dark”. Abbot Marion infers from this historical, factual detail a significant spiritual lesson:

Mary shows us where many of us begin: not with triumphant faith, but with grief and longing. She teaches us the first lesson of Easter—not a chorus of hallelujahs, but the honest truth that resurrection begins in the place of death.

This spiritual truth is all the more poignant considering the passing of Pope Francis. Both Abbot Marion and President William Brownsberger have recently addressed the wider St. Martin’s community and if you have not yet read their reflections, please do so (see in attachment)

• Abbot Marion Nguyen on the passing of Pope Francis
• President William Brownsberger on the passing of Pope Francis

Easter joy mixed with the grief and sorrow of death? What on the surface seem like total opposites are in fact united, as Easter joy is regarded not as the absence of sorrow and grief. Quite the contrary:

Resurrection begins in the shadows. Mary [Magdalen] gives us permission to begin our Easter right where we are—grieving what we’ve lost, naming the disappointments we carry, and doing what love asks of us anyway.

Meditation

Meet me there Lord

Abbot Marion Nguyen, OSB
91ֱ��’s Abbey and University

“They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they put him.”— John 20:2

This Easter, we are drawn into the tender, raw humanity of Mary Magdalene as she approaches the tomb in the early hours—when the first light breaks through the dark. The Gospel tells us she came "while it was still dark." That darkness isn’t just a time of day—it’s a window into Mary’s soul: a heart weighed down by sorrow, confusion, and love.

She didn’t come with hope. She came with love. She didn’t come expecting a miracle. She came to mourn.

Mary came to do what was decent and human—to anoint the body of someone she deeply loved. Her act is profoundly human and deeply relatable. Who among us hasn’t returned to the graves of hopes long buried? Who hasn’t visited the memories of broken relationships or long-lost dreams—not because we expect to fix anything, but because we care? Because love compels us?

Mary shows us where many of us begin: not with triumphant faith, but with grief and longing. She teaches us the first lesson of Easter—not a chorus of hallelujahs, but the honest truth that resurrection begins in the place of death.

When she sees the stone rolled away and the tomb empty, her first reaction is not joy, but fear: “They have taken the Lord.” Her mind cannot yet grasp resurrection. Even though Jesus had spoken of it many times, this was beyond imagination. A metaphor, perhaps—a spiritual promise. But this? Bodily resurrection? Life where death had ruled?

Easter begins right there—not with full understanding, but with a breaking open of the old ways of seeing.

St. John Chrysostom once noted that Mary’s love outpaced her understanding—and that was enough: “It was not knowledge, but love, that made her run.”(Homily 85 on the Gospel of John) St. Augustine calls Mary a figure of the Church—one who seeks Christ in sorrow and finds Him in glory: “She was seeking the dead, but He whom she was seeking as dead, was alive.”(Tractate 121 on the Gospel of John, 3)

And again, describing her transformation: “She saw, and she believed. The tomb became her pulpit, the stone rolled away her sign, and the absence of a body, her message.”(Sermon 232E)

Mary’s persistence in love opens the door to faith. Her tears become the soil from which joy springs—not a blind optimism, but a transformed vision. Her story invites us to our own conversion—to let go of our limited expectations of what God can do. To begin believing not only in the possibility of resurrection, but in its reality—in our lives, right now.

We, too, must leave behind the old paradigms: That what is dead stays dead. That the end is the end. That darkness will always have the final word. Mary came to anoint a corpse. She left as the first witness of the Resurrection. The shift is astonishing—and it mirrors the journey we are all invited to make. As Gregory the Great said:

“She longed for Him whom she believed had been taken away, and so her love grew stronger. And because she persevered, she found Him.” (Homily 25 on the Gospels)

Mary becomes the apostola apostolorum—the apostle to the apostles—not because she grasped everything with her intellect, but because she clung to Christ with her heart, even in her pain. The resurrection begins in the shadows. Mary gives us permission to begin our Easter right where we are—grieving what we’ve lost, naming the disappointments we carry, and doing what love asks of us anyway.

So persist. Keep showing up. Let love carry you—even when you don’t yet understand. Be open to being moved by grief, and by grace. Be open to new life where death once reigned. Wait, as Mary waited. And soon, the Lord will call you by name. Soon, you will see—not just an empty tomb—but the One who broke it open.

Amen.

Obedience – “Christ became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross”

The core of Christian faith can be said to revolve around not so much what Jesus did and taught, but rather who he is. Our response to the question: “Who do you say that I am?” is of crucial importance.

Quite literally, in fact, recalling that our word “crucial” derives from the Latin word ‘c���ܳ�’, as well as its genitive form ‘crucis’ meaning ‘cross’. The response given by Simon Peter, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Mt 16, 16) is not only of central importance in defining the what of Christian faith, but because who Christians profess Jesus to be, it then elevates the how, all that  Jesus did and taught to be of endless, infinite significance.

This is most evidently the case when it concerns how Jesus approached his Passion and his Cross, turning what is truly horrific and entirely unspeakable into a symbol of hope for eternal life. The Truth of the Christian proclamation that Jesus Christ is Lord and the Way, guided by the Holy Spirit, to the house of the Father, to eternal Life, a house with ‘many rooms’, this faith professes that this way must pass through the Cross. This is the story of Holy Week, of Christ’s passion and death; of Christ’s descent into hell; and his resurrection from the dead, the source of the Christian’s Easter joy.

During this Holy Week, to follow the way of Christ, the Church invites us to come face to face with our own “cross”, our own seemingly inescapable burdens, and to join our sufferings with his. “Come to me, all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Mt 11, 28) This is the passage immediately behind the Christ statue atop Old Main, issuing its compassionate invitation to all  the many generations of students, Faculty, Staff and monks alike, all who have climbed those stairs and passed through its doors here at St. Martin’s, under the protection of  St. Benedict’s Cross and medal, with its famous exorcistic prayer and blessing: 

         C.
         S.
N. D. S. M. D.
         M.
         L.

(Vertical) C. S. S. M. L: Crux Sacra Sit Mihi Lux 

[The Holy Cross be my light] 

(Horizontal) N. D. S. M. D: Nunquam Draco Sit Mihi Dux

[Never the Dragon be my guide]

St Benedict in ch. 5 of his Rule on Obedience, identifies Christ as the model of obedience and the way to the Father’s house:

“Those who are possessed by a real desire to find their way to eternal life don’t hesitate to choose the narrow way to which our Lord referred when he said: Narrow is the way that leads to life….No one can doubt that they have as their model that saying of the Lord: I came not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me.” (RB 5, 10-11; 13)

Meditation:

“Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. 
Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, 
he humbled himself, becoming 
Obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
Because of this,
God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name
which is above every name,
That at the name of Jesus
Every knee should bend,
Of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
And every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord,
To the glory of God the Father.”

(Phil 2, 6-11)

Amen.

Obedience – “Prefer Nothing to the Love of Christ”

At St. Martin's - both for the University and the Abbey - we daily attest to our Christian foundations by joyfully recognizing Christ as "Lord of all" (RB Prologue 3) and as our center, both personally and as a community. As our living center, it is both the truth of and love for Christ that binds us together. In St. Benedict's language, we recognize Christ by "preferring nothing to the love of Christ" (RB 4, 21).

St. Benedict's Rule is primarily not a speculative nor a mystical document. It has these moments for the attentive reader, for sure, however the text is largely rooted, practical and concrete. Thus, what are the consequences for us in recognizing Christ as our center? Let us first consider this in terms of community and thereafter, we can address the question on the more personal level.

As a community comprising both the Abbey and University, to 'prefer nothing to the love of Christ' is a foundational truth claim. To acknowledge this center, we as a University hold that "truth is one". By taking the search for truth seriously, in the Liberal Arts tradition, we at St. Martin’s affirm that there are many avenues, various sciences, fields of study and human endeavors, all of which aim to lead us to this center – that is, to Christ. In the famous language of the 19th Century English Catholic convert, St. John Henry Newman, he writes in his classic, the Idea of the University, that a University education is primarily intended not so much to "advance" and innovate human knowledge. If it were, then why admit students in the first place and not simply research specialists?  Rather, education at a Liberal Arts University is to widely diffuse a "universal" education to all of its students, an education that is not overly specialized, but rather "according to the whole". Such a holistic education, in common Catholic terminology, combines the perspectives of both "faith and reason". However, beyond the familiar slogan, what this signals is that precisely with Christ as the center, no one person or scientific discipline holds the fullness of truth itself. It is precisely because of this center that gives the reason, the logos for us to dia-logos, to dialogue and interdisciplinarity itself.

Similarly, as a moral claim for our community, 'preferring nothing to the love of Christ' clarifies our understanding of what constitutes "justice" and having "justice as our aim" (Is 1,16) precisely by affirming our common human dignity created in the image and likeness of God. Chapter 53 from St. Benedict's Rule is famous, in these respects, in taking this moral ideal and making it concrete when it concerns hospitality of others, receiving others "just as we would receive Christ himself, because he promised that on the last day he will say: I was a stranger and you welcomed me". (RB 53, 1; Mt 25,35)

What then does it mean personally to recognize Christ as our center? For the professed Benedictine monastic living under the vow of obedience to their superior, to the Abbot, St. Benedict again makes it very clear:  it means to "obey an order without delaying for a moment....as though it came from God himself and they cannot endure any delay in carrying out what they have been told to do." (RB 5, 1; 5) For both monastics and non-monastics alike, this indeed can be difficult and a test: do I prefer my will and what I consider to be right and true above all else, or do I "prefer nothing to the love of Christ"?

For the majority of us laity and non-monastics at St. Martin's who do not live under such a vow of obedience, we too can derive much wisdom from Benedict's perspective as he also states: "We should remember also that he [Christ] said to the teachers: ‘whoever listens to you, listens to me.'" (RB 5, 6; Lk 10,16)

Education at a Catholic, Benedictine Liberal Arts University, as alluded to in previous reflections, is not merely informative, not simply a technical education of training in skills. Rather, it is primarily formative of our character, our whole person. In these respects, Benedict is directing our attention not merely to the more legalistic, exterior observance of rules and norms, etc. Instead, he is addressing our interior disposition to learning and our willingness to listen. After all, 'preferring nothing to the love of Christ" is and must remain a free undertaking. It cannot be coerced. Rather, such love of Christ, love of truth and its pursuit, its continual seeking is the very measure for whether or not by engaging in my studies, am I earnestly open when listening to my professors, to my fellow students and colleagues, to one's daily readings and assignments, especially if I disagree with such ideas? Am I willing, or am I largely going through the motions, or perhaps even somewhat resentful, what Benedict calls "murmuring" in my heart? If so, then I will hear nothing more than what is said on the surface of things. Yes, I may even get a good grade, but it will not in the least transform me. My studies will lack the capacity for truth. I will be incapable of hearing the voice of Christ, I will have never visited the center, only staying instead on the peripheries. Again, loving obedience is the measure, as Benedict cautions us: "If obedience is given with a bad will and with murmuring not only in words but even in bitterness of heart, then even though the command may be externally fulfilled it will not be accepted by God, for he can see the resistance in the heart of a murmurer." (RB 5, 17-19)

Meditation:

"He who listens to you, listens to me".

(RB 5, 6; Lk 10,16)

Amen.

Obedience – Obedient freedom and conscience

Last week, the third and final Benedictine vow, ‘obedience’, was introduced and how this vow is not only central to Benedictine spirituality and education, but how it also represents something of monasticism’s timeless, counter-cultural appeal.

In the Prologue to the Rule, one of the over-arching questions that St. Benedict poses is not whether or not one is obedient, but instead: ‘To whom are you obedient towards?’ However, the Benedictine tradition does not regard obedience as merely “blind” nor what perhaps immediately comes to mind, whether that be a military drill sergeant giving commands or a coach blowing a whistle and ordering the team to run an extra set of laps.

Instead, as the English Benedictine Abbot Christopher Jamison writes in Finding Sanctuary: Monastic Steps for Everyday Life:

"‘Obedience’ derives from the Latin word oboedire, which means not only to obey, but also to listen. The prefix ob- means ‘in the direction of’, added to audire, ‘to hear’, which becomes oboedire. So obedience conjures up an image of leaning towards somebody, straining to hear what they are saying. ‘To listen to somebody else’ is both the original meaning of ‘obedience’ and a good working definition." (Jamison, 76)

With this emphasis upon listening and especially listening towards others as the root and original meaning of obedience, Abbot Jamison does an excellent job of introducing to us the realm of moral conscience and how the Benedictine monastic tradition, by prioritizing obedience, seeks to make us free precisely by way of how we exercise obedience, how we exercise such listening in discerning the good and acting upon it:

"The monastic way invites people to listen, and then to choose what voices to follow. This is a double exercise of freedom: the freedom of discernment and the freedom of choosing to follow what has been discerned. Obedience that is blind does not exercise discernment and simply follows the most assertive voices or the voice of the one to whom life has been surrendered….

"Obedient freedom is what the monastic way invites you to experience. Benedict is clear that obedience is not just about doing what the boss says; it is about mutual love. ‘Obedience is a blessing to be shown by all, not only to the abbot but also to one another as brothers, since we know that it is by this obedience that we go to God.” (Rule of Benedict, 71:1)

"In essence, what Benedict is describing is the exercise of conscience. Conscience is not the same as feeling: conscience is the inner process that enables you to listen to voices beyond your own feelings and desires. It is the process by which you freely choose which desires to follow and which to ignore…. To take a deeper example, after many years of marriage, a married person might fall in love with somebody other than their spouse. Feelings might urge them to leave home for the new person, but conscience might tell them to stay. Conscience notices the wider world of other people’s feelings, the vows made to a spouse, the laws of the land. You can obey your feelings, you can obey your conscience, but they are not the same. Your feelings will be one of the factors that conscience considers and you ignore them at your peril, but they are not the only factor. To follow feelings blindly is as dangerous as blind obedience to anything else. Blind rage, blind fear, blind lust: the intensity of such feelings only makes them more likely to mislead people into actions that will be regretted later. Intense feeling is not the same as conscience. The monastic way urges the conscientious exercise of choice leading to obedient freedom. The belief that you are free and in control if you follow your feelings is widespread and the monastic way challenges that belief.”

(Jamison, 78-9)

Meditation:

‘Obedience is a blessing to be shown by all, not only to the abbot, but also to one another as brothers, since we know that it is by this obedience that we go to God.”

(RB 71,1)

Amen.

Obedience – “Listen”

Are you exhausted? Seemingly always running low on energy?

It is not simply moralistic finger-wagging to recognize the reality of things that when we habitually place ourselves in the center, our desires and yearning for life, our desire to know, to innovate, to excel, to seek for happiness, these desires remain as robust as ever. However, with ourselves in the center, we walk around ourselves in a constant circle, leaving both ourselves and our desires frustrated and exhausted. As St. Bernard of Clairvaux describes it, by encircling around ourselves, we frustrate the natural end of our desires, which is not in constant “consumption, but in consummation”, in greater union with God and with others.

To you, who are both tired, exhausted and frustrated, St. Benedict has a ‘word’ for you, for all of us sinners, in fact: “It is high time for us to arise from our sleepiness.” (RB Prologue 8) Each and every day, will we listen not simply to ourselves, but to others? Will we listen? “If you hear his voice today, do not harden your hearts.” (Ps 95, 8; RB Prologue 10) But will we listen, listen well and act in accordance? In other words, will we be obedient?

The third and final Benedictine vow, obedience, is just as counter-cultural today as it was when St. Benedict first uttered these opening lines in his Prologue to the Rule:

“Listen [Obsculta] 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. The labor of obedience will bring you back to him from whom you had drifted through the sloth of disobedience. This message of mine is for you, then, if you are ready to give up your own will, once and for all, and armed with the strong and noble weapons of obedience to do battle for the true King, Christ the Lord.” (RB Prologue 1-3)

If we are indeed ‘listening carefully’, these words should rouse us, like the sudden shock of a cold shower. That is, after all, partially their intended purpose. By listening carefully, Benedict is asking us: ‘To whom are we primarily listening to and being obedient? Is it my own will that I am primarily obedient to, or is it your will, O Lord? Benedict aims to shock us out of a certain tired, exhausted adherence to our own wills, constantly circling around ourselves. “Their law is what they like to do, whatever strikes their fancy. Anything they believe in and choose, they call holy; anything they dislike, they consider forbidden.” (RB 1, 8 -9)

But Benedict does not merely seek to shock, he also seeks to instruct. This is essential to obedience, which we will explore in greater depth for these next few weeks. Namely: ‘obedience’ is grounded not simply in passive adherence to rules and authority; rather, it is always coupled with listening and hearing. To obey, from the Latin, ob – audire, means to “hear or listen to”. This is why the first word in Benedict’s Rule is “Listen”. There is no real education apart from both humility (in recognizing, like Socrates, I know that I do not know) as well as obedience. Especially an education rooted not merely in the acquisition of data, of knowledge, but of wisdom. In and through obedience, Benedict teaches, we learn how to actually listen to others, not simply ourselves, and ultimately to the promptings of God.

To begin our meditations upon this central Benedictine vow, let us now consider how obedience is defined and lived out both within the monastery, and the university.

Obedience: a commitment to listening and consequent action

In monastic contexts…. Benedictine life is unthinkable without obedience, a value that cuts against the grain of much in contemporary life. It is often forgotten that the root of the word obedience is found in audire, “to listen.” When St. Benedict begins the Rule with the exhortation “Listen,” he emphasizes the stance of obedience required of all who seek wisdom. He asks for obedience not only to the spiritual head of the monastery, but to the other members of the community (RB 71:1-2). Each has something of value to say about true fullness of life. For the monastic, obedience is putting into practice what is learned by listening to the other “with the ear of the heart” (RB Prol. 1). Centuries of Benedictine experience show that such listening requires a willingness to submit to imperatives outside of the self, something that is never easy to do, but that is deeply rewarding.

In university contexts…. Teaching and learning are impossible without obedience, without listening to others with the awareness that no one possesses all truth, or knows everything worth knowing. In intellectual inquiry, obedience means respecting the integrity of disciplinary methods of study and maintaining fidelity to the evidence, wherever it leads. Obedience helps to form an intellectual community, drawing on a number of disciplines, respecting the methodologies proper to each. All members of a Benedictine educational institution are encouraged to work to understand and respect the viewpoints of others, to adhere to standards of excellence in thinking and communicating. Learning to listen well and respond deeply to others and the world is a prerequisite for growing in wisdom and it requires courage and perseverance. 

Meditation:

“If you hear His voice today, do not harden your hearts”

(Ps 95, 7-8; RB Prologue 10)

Amen.

Stability – “The Divine Presence is everywhere”

Before we conclude these reflections upon the second Benedictine vow, let us first recall once more what has been previously said about ‘stability’.

First, the vow of stability was described as the opposite pole from conversatio, noting that much of the Christian spiritual life is often lived within view of navigating tensions and complexities of life in a fruitful, sustainable, productive manner. It is necessary to have clear, simple, undiluted aims, to daily recognize them and be unwavering by not losing sight of such goals. To be, as Christ speaks of this tension in the Gospel of Matthew, “simple as doves”. However, it is another thing entirely to live amid the concrete complexities of daily life in pursuing such goals. Here is where the importance of stability emerges, both in terms of perseverance, as well as in being prudent and “shrewd as serpents”.

Secondly, we can form a deep appreciation for stability and the ‘need for roots’ precisely amid times of personal and societal instability. Historically, the collapse of the Roman empire, with all of its instability, wars, disease and upheaval has had an incalculable influence upon both St. Benedict personally, as well as with the Rule and Benedictine spirituality more generally. Analogously, so too can this be said of us today and our experience for the need for rootedness, as Pope Francis famously said in Florence in 2015: “We are not living an era of change but a change of era.”

Third, stability, not only concerns being rooted, committed to a place and to a community of people and its distinct way of life. Stability equally entails a temporal dimension, namely a rhythm of life that is both life-giving and sustainable precisely in its ability to distinguish one’s priorities from that of one’s daily ‘to-do’ lists. This requires a certain flexible ordering of one’s day, with the Benedictine monk, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, as a model of long-term stable productivity, with a “full agenda, but never busy”.

To conclude, it can now be said that as important and virtuous as all of these varying aspects of stability may well be, they are as good as “building one’s house on sand” (Mt 7, 26) apart from the very source of stability itself, the immutability and impassability of God. In his Rule, Benedict writes that “divine presence is everywhere” (RB 19,1). When we reflect upon this permanence of this truth with the eyes of stability, two common place sayings immediately pop up. Not only does it mitigate against becoming envious, jealous and daydreaming that the ‘grass is greener on the other side’. Moreover, because God, the sum total of all that is good is to be sought and found in all things, no more or no less here than there, why not then “bloom where you are planted”?

The goodness of this truth of stability is beautifully reflected in the monk’s chant at Midday Prayer: “Lord God and Maker of all things, Creation is upheld by you. While all must change and know decay, You are unchanging, always new.”

Meditation:

“Christ ever with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me
Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me
Christ to my right side, Christ to my left
Christ in his breadth, Christ in his length, Christ in depth.
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me
Christ is the mouth of every man who speaks to me
Christ in every eye that sees me
Christ in every ear that hears me.”

(from St. Patrick’s Lorica or ‘Deer’s Cry)

Stability – "A full agenda, but never busy"

Stability, as a primary Benedictine vow, not only concerns being rooted, committed to a place and to a community of people and its distinct way of life. Stability equally entails a temporal dimension, namely a rhythm of life that is both life-giving and sustainable.

For monks, this includes fixed hours of praying the psalms, work and spiritual reading - lectio divina. Moreover, there is a deep, enduring wisdom of bookending one’s day in prayer and gratitude to God. Stability and faithfulness to God, who is always faithful to us, is an end in-of-itself, thus it needs no other justification. Whereas the explicit value of a stable, daily rhythm is most clear on days when that rhythm is lacking. Perhaps you have overslept your alarm. Or the things that need to get done seemingly keeps on piling up, like an endless weight on your shoulders. You become easily stressed, restless, perhaps short-tempered, quickly pointing out the faults of others, while ignorant of your own failings. In short, for such days when one is constantly playing ‘catch-up’, all of your worse, self-destructive tendencies start to become magnified and readily apparent to everyone around you.

Now, we should not falsely idealize our fellow Benedictine monastics. They too, like all of us, have those days wherein they can easily become stressed and disordered. However, it is the Benedictine Rule, as a way of life, that does not produce instantaneous results or quick fixes. Instead, the genius of the Rule is how it gradually, yet decisively transforms such monks and nuns into a model of productivity that is both stable and enduring. This may well seem like a highly counter-intuitive claim, but in fact it is true, especially when we view things not by conventional, short-term analysis, or the quarterly, the semester, the fiscal year, but in the long term.

There are perhaps a few key insights for translating such stability, especially for non-monastics. (1) The clear and consistent ability to distinguish one’s priorities in distinction with the various tasks and the daily ‘to-do’ list. Doing so is far easier said than done. For Benedictines, it is unambiguous: their primary goal as a monk is quaerere deum [the search for God]. However, it is keeping this daily, front and center as one’s central goal which is the challenge. Not allowing one’s various to-do lists, which of course are important, to overwhelm and become a substitute for one’s actual priorities. This is what it means to order one’s day, what the Dutch Benedictine oblate, Wil Derkse cleverly calls: “Benedictine time management: a full agenda, but never busy.”

(2) Another key insight is to order one’s day in a realistic manner, combining both order and flexibility:

“The little steps toward better time management need to be realistic. The copying of the rhythm of the abbey with six or seven daily times of prayer, a few hours of lectio divina, fixed recreation periods, etc., in a reasonably demanding business life or in a family - that is unrealistic and produces only frustration. This is about finding a rhythm that fits you. One needs to be like a good abbot for oneself: not making any demands that will destroy you, but on the other hand put the bar high enough so that there is a daily challenge.” (Derkse, The Rule of Benedict for Beginners, 72)

Lastly, in order for one’s daily rhythm and ordering of the day to actually be stable and not yielding to burn out, such stability must be active, dynamic and regularly reexamined and not merely passively adhered to, as when going through the motions of life in a largely inattentive, disengaged manner. Again, Derkse observes, this time speaking directly to professors:

“You may arrive on time as a teacher in your class, having prepared a lesson, having checked the papers, maintaining reasonably good discipline, while your heart is no longer in it and the spirit is gone. You don’t study your subject anymore; neither do you widen your horizon in other ways. And those who no longer cultivate intellectual excitement cannot inspire it in others; it is a negative spiral. What might help to get beyond this is in some ways obvious: start studying in your subject again and widen your horizon by orienting yourself on worthwhile sources. For example, you might reserve a half-hour every day for absorbing yourself in your profession and free a quarter of an hour for something where you might pay close attention to something enjoyable: poetry, music (not background music of course), a spiritual text….This habit should be kept up for a few years. Your students will notice your renewed commitment.” (Derkse, 24)

Similar advice, namely the ordering of one’s day in cultivating greater attention, is also given to students, who may also feel at times that they are merely going through the motions:

“Practicing alertness will gradually bear fruit. If you sit in a class that seems dull, though you would have preferred to stay in your comfortable bed, you may participate attentively. If it is done attentively, it automatically becomes less dull, and when your involvement and gradually nurtured interest prompts a relevant question, that might stimulate the teacher and your fellow students to heighten their own alertness and attention.” (Derkse, 25)

Meditation

It is good to give thanks to the Lord,
To sing praise to your name, Most High,
To proclaim your love at daybreak
And your faithfulness in the night."

(Ps 92, 2-3)

Amen.

Stability – The need for roots

Any earnest consideration of the value of stability and just how much it is valued by Benedictine’s throughout the centuries, must begin with the sheer instability of the times and the collapse of the Roman empire that marked St. Benedict’s own life. Here is a very brief history.

“Benedict was born in Nursia, central Italy, around 480. The date is significant because only four years before, in 476, the line of the Western emperors ended with the deposition of the boy emperor, Romulus Augustulus. Control of the Western Empire passed to Odoacer, a barbarian king, and seventeen years later following his defeat in battle, to another barbarian, Theodoric the Ostrogoth. Under Theodoric, Italy enjoyed seventeen years of strong government and peace. His death in 526, however ushered in a period of turmoil and war – far worse than anything that had preceded it. The emperor of the East, Justinian, seeing his chance, resolved to recover Italy. For the next twenty years the so-called Gothic War raged across the Italian peninsula, causing untold havoc and destruction. Benedict was thus born at a turning point in history, and lived through one of the great periods of transition in which the face of the world changed. He witnessed political instability, widespread famine and war, and it is against this dark backcloth that his Rule is set.” (Benedictine Handbook, 227)

One cannot emphasize enough the influence that the collapse of the Roman empire, with all of its instability and upheaval had upon the formation of both Benedict personally, as well as with the Rule and Benedictine spirituality more generally. On the surface, instability erupts in conflict and wars, political corruption, disease, social disorder and chaos. While spiritually, the longer term effects may be seen in terms of excess, decadence and hedonism; in attitudes of cynicism and jadedness; and lastly, in a certain spiritual depression and lethargy that can never finish what one has started. Since, for the cynic, one simply asks: ‘What’s the point, anyways?’ This is precisely why Benedict recommends that “every time you begin a good work, you must pray to God most earnestly to bring it to perfection.” (RB, Prologue 4)

Writing at another point of incredible instability and a turning point in history, the French Jewish writer, philosopher, political thinker and mystic, Simone Weil (1909 -1943) shortly before her untimely death during WWII wrote on stability and how “uprootedness is by far the most dangerous malady to which human societies are exposed” and the need to recover it in her work, The Need for Roots. In a key passage, Weil writes:

“To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul. It is one of the hardest to define. A human being has roots by virtue of his real, active and natural participation in the life of a community, which preserves in living shape certain particular treasures of the past and certain particular expectations of the future…. Every human being needs to have multiple roots. It is necessary for him to draw well-nigh the whole of his moral, intellectual and spiritual life by way of the environment of which he forms a natural part.”

Meditation

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,
Nor stand in the way of sinners,
nor sit in company with scoffers.
Rather, the law of the LORD is his joy;
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree
planted near streams of water,
that yields its fruit in season;
Its leaves never wither;
whatever he does prospers.
But not so are the wicked, not so!
They are like chaff driven by the wind.

(Ps 1, 1-4)

Amen

Stability – Conversatio's opposite pole

The second Benedictine vow is stability, which can be regarded as the opposite pole to conversatio.

The spiritual life, when rooted in the centrality of God and living one’s life towards the unwavering simplicity of this goal, is equally about navigating the tensions and complexities of daily life in a fruitful manner. From ‘contemplation and action’; to being ‘in the world, but not of the world’; ‘ora et labora [prayer and work]’, these are but some of the ways to frame this tension. In the Gospel of St. Matthew, Jesus speaks of this tension, when sending the apostles out on mission to be both prudent and “shrewd as serpents and simple as doves.” (Mt 10,16) Likewise, the wisdom of the Benedictine tradition integrates these poles. It is weary of excessively oppositional, one-sided approaches and instead, it follows Benedict’s injunction to “seek out peace and pursue it”. (RB, Prologue, n.17)

See how this plays out concretely. As we previously learned, conversatio entails the commitment and ‘fidelity to a monastic way of life’. However, if pursued in isolation, like any ideal, this can become easily idealized and abstract, like an impossible standard that leaves one uneasy and restless, disgruntled and prone to distraction, tempted to think how much better one’s life would be in this or that place. If this description seems eerily similar to many of the trappings of social media you would not be far off, while in monastic tradition, this is commonly known as ‘acedia’ or the ‘noon-day demon’. This is where stability comes in, as a natural counter-balance to the movement, change and the ongoing call to ‘become who you are’ that is the life of conversatio. When it comes to stability, emphasis is clearly centered upon the concrete, the particular, and the importance of being rooted. In its most obvious and literal meaning, the Benedictine vow of stability reminds the monk that not only have they promised “fidelity to a monastic way of life” in general, but concretely, to this place, to these people and the way of life lived in this particular monastery. Thus, as complementary poles of the spiritual life, if the life of conversatio can be likened to the ascending of a mountain, then stability asks the following question: ‘who can remain on your holy mountain?” (Ps 15, 1)

Before we expand upon the various facets of the vow of stability, let us first consider a its definition both within and outside the monastery.

Stability: commitment to the daily life of this place, its heritage and tradition

In monastic terms…. Stability shapes a Benedictine monastery. All of its members commit themselves to seeking God. They resolve to pursue this, their heart’s deepest desire, together, day in and day out, in good times and in bad, throughout the entire span of their lives. 

In university terms…. Benedictine educational institutions put great energy into cultivating lasting relationships between students, faculty and staff. We seek to embed a vigorous exchange of ideas within the pattern of life on campus, recognizing the shared human standing of all. We strive to foster a pervasive commitment to share our intellectual passions, our bewilderments and breakthroughs with one another. We do this because we believe that persevering together in the pursuit of wisdom – as opposed to engaging one another only enough to achieve private understanding – builds strong and lasting relationships and makes remarkably powerful growth possible for all.

Meditation

“Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me.”

(Jn 15, 4)

Amen.

Conversatio – "It is bound to be narrow at the outset..."

Saint Benedict famously concludes the Prologue of his Rule by seeing the monastery as a “school for the Lord’s service”. In order for it to be an effective ‘school’, he writes:

"[W]e hope to set down nothing harsh, nothing burdensome. The good of all concerned, however, may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and safeguard love. Do not be daunted immediately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love.” (RB, Prologue, 45-49)

In addition to over 1500-years of continued Benedictine life, countless commentators have recognized a profound degree of moral realism and practicality that St. Benedict captures in his Rule that has arguably made it so influential and long lasting over the centuries. Take a moment and re-read the quoted passage once more, however this time notice here the arc of progression in the life of conversatio that illustrates such moral realism. At first, he cautions against ‘nothing harsh, nothing burdensome’, just a ‘little strictness’, a touch of discipline both to counteract faults that we all bring with us, but also in order to ‘safeguard love’ and preserve one’s gifts and talents to properly grow unhindered by such faults. Observe the incredible degree of nuance here, especially how Benedict cautions against overly drastic, swift measures, even with the best intentions in mind, which often cause more harm than good.

And yet, let us also be honest: even with a mild dosage of discipline, experience dictates that struggle will invariably ensue, there will be grumbling and a fair amount of protest, as the challenge will be experienced as demanding and too ‘narrow at the outset’. Benedict remains undaunted, as he echoes Christ’s command to “enter through the narrow gate” (Mt 7, 13). Here too, Benedict encourages us to stay the course and ‘not be daunted’ in the hope that our conversatio may one day virtuously become a habit of being, one that broadens and ever-expands with “our hearts overflowing”.

The implication of Benedict’s moral realism is that we are to cultivate something of a ‘beginner’s mind’, in which conversatio is not a one-time occurrence, but rather a life-long process of making a new beginning each and every day in removing the various obstacles that prevent us from otherwise living towards our goal, one that entails that we “share in the sufferings of Christ that we may deserve also to share in his kingdom”.

Anyone who sets out to strive for a new virtuous goal or resolution fully knows the difficulty of simply starting, let alone persevering in such a resolution. How many New Years’ resolutions actually see the light of day past early spring? Yet herein lies the practical genius of Benedict’s Rule. While he fully recognizes the initial difficulty of living a life of conversatio such that we need the support of others, of community, to keep us honest and not discouraged, the virtue of such a life does not consist in it simply being difficult, as though it were the struggle itself of such ‘hard work’ is what makes something specifically good. Rather, as Josef Pieper beautifully writes in his highly influential, post-WWII essay, “Leisure”: “the Middle Ages…said something about virtue that is no longer so readily understood…they held that virtue meant: ‘mastering our natural bent’.”

In other words, virtue consists not in the struggle to master difficult things simply because they are hard. Instead, it consists in cultivating our natural gifts such that, overtime and through habit, stability and perseverance, that which is initially experienced as demanding, difficult and “narrow at the outset” will increasingly become “effortless”, much like the skilled musician, or the accomplished athlete, who in a highly anticipated ‘solo performance’ or in the final minutes of the game, makes it look just so easy. For St. Benedict, this is the promise of a virtuous life of conversatio – freedom. Freedom in heeding God’s calling and realizing our unique potential.

Meditation:

“Let us get up then, at long last, for the Scriptures rouse us when they say: ‘It is high time for us to arise from sleep’ (Rom 13,11; RB, Prologue, 8)

Amen.

Conversatio – Purity of heart

Is my heart ‘pure’?

At root, Benedictine life poses this question over and over throughout the dailiness of life, in matters both important and mundane. How though can one begin to discern, let alone answer such a question with any reasonable degree of accuracy, let alone honesty?

The question can be measured by one of the well-known Benedictine Mottos – that in all things God may be glorified - which in the Rule (RB 57,7) Benedict quotes from the First Letter of St. Peter in the New Testament. (1Pt 4,11) This motto, abbreviated by the acronym U.I.O.G.D., is taken directly from the Latin translation: ut in omnibus glorificetur Deus.

To ‘glorify God’ by one’s life is a foundational goal of moral, Christian living, with purity of heart becoming the means to assess how I am living towards this goal. Herein the uniquely Benedictine emphasis comes to the fore with its stress of – in all things. It is not merely in one’s success and the highlights of one’s life, whether that be professionally, academically, athletically, etc., that are deserving to give glory to God. But in all things seemingly mundane and certainly not noteworthy. Here too the challenge of conversatio is felt.

But why ‘purity’? What is meant here is less a moral catalogue of things that are either more pure or impure. Rather, purity indicates the degree of my focus and attention. Am I aiming adequately towards a clear goal for which I am striving and seeking after in glorifying God and serving others or am I, more often than not, seeking after a mixture of competing and conflicting goals, turning around in a vicious circle with myself at the center? Psalm 24 poses the question of purity of heart in terms of ascending a mountain:

“Who shall climb the mountain of the Lord?
Who shall stand in his holy place?
The man with clean hands and pure heart
Who desires not worthless things
What has not sworn so as to deceive his neighbor.

He shall receive blessings from the Lord
And reward from the God who saves him.
Such are the men who seek him
Seek the face of the God of Jacob.”

In the Psalm’s poetic metaphor, purity is described as arduous, much like climbing a mountain. Why is it so difficult? Because in seeking purity of heart, one reflectively recognizes that my heart is filled with a chaotic, riotous mixture of judgment and jealousy, mixed motives and more often than not, a lack of attention: in short, my heart is anything but pure.

Benedictine Abbot Christopher Jamison OSB summarizes the task of continually seeking for purity of heart as the very purpose of monastic life that “enables us to see God in everything and hence to be aware of ‘You’ at all times. As the prophet Jeremiah says: “You, O Lord, are in the midst of us and we are called by your name.’” (Jamison, Finding Sanctuary, 55) In this manner, we can escape the vicious circle of constantly circling around ourselves in a life of continual consumption and fleeting gratification and instead, we can climb, we can aspire and actually make progress up that mountain in pursuit of those goals wherein meaning and purpose reside.

Meditation

“Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God” (Mt 5, 8)

Amen.

Conversatio – A Benedictine vow

When a Benedictine monk or nun makes vows, they do not promise what many people think of as the traditional vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Those are the vows of orders such as Franciscans, who sprang up in the Middle Ages, some seven hundred years after Benedict. The vows that Benedict invites his monks to take are those of Obedience, Stability and one that is impossible to translate from Latin, Conversatio morum. It is easy to think that this last one reads conversion, in which case it would mean ‘conversion’; but scholars now agree that is not what Benedict intended. If you look up the word ‘conversation’ is some dictionaries, you find a clue to the meaning of conversatio. There you discover that the first and now obsolete meaning of ‘conversation’ is ‘living with somebody’, and that the second but now normal meaning derives from this – namely ‘speaking with somebody’. So this Benedictine vow is a resolution to live with others, specifically with other monks and hence to live the monastic way of life, with the implication of common ownership [i.e, the vow of ‘poverty’] and celibacy [the vow of ‘chastity’]. It is striking that all three Benedictine vows relate to community life….”

How then does this unique vow apply to those of us who have not taken such a vow? Abbot Christopher Jamison explains by showing the links between the trust and stability of community life and how it is sustained by good conversation and dialogue, which is foundational to a Catholic, liberal-arts education here at 91ֱ��’s:

“Conversation is necessary for community to be real. Even though Benedict commends silence as a background, serious and deep conversation is also an essential part of spiritual living…. Benedict is rather puritan in his attitude to frivolous conversation, but…he is equally clear about the need for good conversation…. Good conversation requires not only good speaking but good listening. So in fact ‘restraint of speech’(the title of Benedict’s chapter on silence) is the essential corollary of good speaking, not its opposite. This is real community living and it is essential if human beings are to be their best selves. A community that generates a set of conventions for good conversation sets people free to give of their individual best.”

(Abbot Christopher Jamison, from “Finding Sanctuary: Monastic Steps for Everyday Life”)

Meditation

“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.”

(Rule of St. Benedict, Prologue, 1)

Amen.

Conversatio – Forming and transforming

We will begin this series, Wisdom from the Rule, by considering a diversity of sources and perspectives on “Conversatio”, our University’s chosen theme for this academic year. Scholars attest that there is a rich degree of nuance and ambiguity in this term and we will consider these ambiguities for sure. But first, let us keep it simple and straightforward. According to current usage, 'conversatio' is translated as "fidelity to the monastic way of life" and it constitutes one of the three vows all Benedictines make in becoming a monk: stability, conversatio and obedience.

How then does this unique vow apply both within a monastic context here at St. Martin’s Abbey, and, by extension, how does it apply to our Catholic and Benedictine University here at St. Martin’s in forming who we are and transforming who we are called to become?

In monastic terms…. The aim of life for Benedictines is the same as it is for all Christians – to be transformed in every part of one’s life so that God’s very image, in which each has been created, becomes palpable and transparent.  The Benedictine word for this way of life is conversatio, the process of letting go in day-to-day life of self-centered preoccupations and false securities so that the divine life at the core of one’s being becomes manifest in a trustworthy pattern of living. Conversatio is a commitment to engage in practices that over a lifetime bring about conversion into the likeness of Christ and, in particular, Christ’s giving of self for others. This transformation proceeds according to small steps; and it is tested in unexpected ways over a lifetime.  To come to fruition conversatio requires stability, discipline, faithfulness and resilience. 

In university terms…. Benedictine colleges and universities attempt to call all members of the campus community to move out of their comfort zone for the sake of learning and integrity.  We are not afraid to focus on habits of mind that will require many years to develop.  In curricular and co-curricular programs we seek to challenge realities we often take for granted, to foster intellectual and personal breakthroughs, and to cultivate habits of mind that will transform students, faculty and staff alike, nurturing deep learning and generosity over a lifetime.

(From the ABCU “Education within the Benedictine Wisdom Tradition”)

Meditation

Your way of acting should be different from the world’s way.” 

(Rule of St. Benedict, 4.20)

Amen.

Welcome to the weekly series, Wisdom from the Rule

This is a new initiative from the Benedictine Institute of 91ֱ��'s University, featuring a series of spiritual reflections surrounding the Rule of St. Benedict, Benedictine Spirituality more broadly and certain foundational Christian and Catholic themes that are particularly relevant to the life and mission of our university here at 91ֱ��'s.

Throughout the semester, a new Wisdom from the Rule reflection will be sent out on the first day of the new academic week, as well as occasionally distributed on various social media platforms. An archive of previous reflections will soon be available to easily access on the webpage for the Benedictine Institute.

Whoever you are – student, faculty or staff member, monk, oblate or friend of our university, these weekly reflections are for you. Wherever you are in terms of your own spiritual journey, intellectual and moral quest for truth and understanding, meaning and purpose, these weekly reflections are for you.

Why the Wisdom from the Rule? The human person, regardless of one’s specifically articulated beliefs or lack thereof, naturally remains uneasy, anxious and at unrest when failing to grasp the why of things.

For this is a question not of knowledge, but of wisdom. We are created to seek out this why, to seek after wisdom, purpose and the meaning of things. One can be very well informed, full of education and credentials, and yet lack wisdom. “Indeed, you love truth in the heart; then in the secret of my heart teach me wisdom.” (Ps 51, 6) Moreover, the Rule of St. Benedict and over 1500 years of Benedictine experience continues to attest that it offers a way of life that is both “ever ancient” in terms of its permanence and stability, as well as “ever new” in its continued flexibility and adaptability amid vast changes and upheavals throughout the centuries.

St. Benedict begins his Rule with “Listen” [Obsculta].

The question for you is how will you respond?