|
The Little Way of St Benedict
By Dwight Longenecker
I was a young theological student at an Anglican college when I first visited a Benedictine monastery. Coming from a conservative Evangelical background, a visit to a Catholic monastery was about as strange as it might be for a good Irish Catholic boy to be invited to a Pentecostal praise service.
My visit happened to be during Lent, so my retreat was suitably austere. I was given what I later learned was a typical Benedictine welcome which both made me feel at home while it also respected my privacy. As I found my way around the liturgy and the monastery I was immediately captivated by the monastic life. The monks exhibited a sense of solemn self-mockery. It was clear that, while they took their religion very seriously, they did not take themselves seriously. My next visit took place on July 10—the eve of the feast of St Benedict himself, and I shall never forget a fat monk with gleaming eyes saying, ‘You’ve come at a good time!’ I had. The ensuing feast was as suitably sumptuous as the Lenten fare had been severe. Coming from a background that was uneasy with both fasting and feasting, the Benedictines introduced me to a new way of seeing.
That first visit was about twenty years ago. I have been going back ever since. In the summer of 1987 I hitch-hiked to Jerusalem from England and stayed in Benedictine monasteries across France and Italy before travelling down through Greece to hop a boat from Athens to the Holy Lands. During that journey I not only walked across Europe, but I walked back in time to experience the rich Benedictine tradition, and to get a glimpse of its great influence on Western religious history. I also got a closer look at the lives of the monks themselves, and was impressed by the practicality of the Benedictine principles.
Eventually I married and we were blessed with four children. It then became clear to me how well Benedict’s ‘little rule for beginners’ applies to family life. I studied the rule and produced Listen My Son—St Benedict for Fathers, which is a daily commentary on the Rule for parents. I also asked to become an oblate at Downside Abbey. Convinced that the Rule offers much wisdom for lay people, I compared it to the ‘little way’ of St Thérèse of Lisieux. St Benedict and St Thérèse—The Little Rule and the Little Way was the product of this study.
As a Benedictine oblate, as well as a husband and father, the Benedictine Rule comes alive in my life in many ways. But there are four simple applications that surge with fresh meaning each day. These principles spring from Benedict’s instructions for a good abbot. As I studied the rule I could see that all the basic requirements for the abbot are also necessary for Christian fathers. Of course, the word ‘abbot’ comes from the same root as ‘Abba- Father’ and I am touched by the idea that this tender word ‘Papa’ is the same word that Jesus used for his heavenly father, and which St Paul instructs us to use for God as well.
Benedict’s abbot understands human psychology. He expects his monks to be obedient, but Benedict insists that he must practice what he preaches. This is the first lesson I must always remember. I cannot expect my children to listen and obey if I am not prepared first to listen and obey God. Furthermore, towards the end of the rule Benedict establishes the principle of mutual obedience in the monastery. In Latin the word ‘obedience’ is linked with the verb ‘to listen’ and in the prologue Benedict instructs us to listen ‘with the ears of our heart.’ If we are expected to follow mutual obedience, and if obedience is linked with listening, then it is up to me to first listen to the needs of my children. This listening not only means taking the time to really listen when they are being fractious or boring. It also means listening to what they don’t say; listening to their actions and listening to their innermost, unspoken needs. If I can take the time to do this, then what I expect of my children will be for their own good and not just for my own convenience.
The second Benedictine principle that helps me as a father is Benedict’s instruction to the Abbot to treat each monk equally. But Benedict’s equality, like that found in the gospel, is not the crude form of equality in which each person receives an equal share of everything. Instead each person receives everything according to his or her own particular needs. One child may need firm handling. Others may need gentle encouragement. Each one of my children, indeed each person I deal with day by day, is a unique individual with a unique blend of needs, gifts and insights. Benedict teaches me that my role as father is not to force conformity to my own expectations, but to see their particular needs and to work with them to discover the most complete fulfilment of God’s will in their lives.
I am also touched by Benedict’s attention to the daily details. The monks are expected to find God in the difficulty of rising for the early office, serving in the refectory and infirmary and in the daily struggles of self will, discipline and community life. He does so in a beautifully subtle way. Some commentators have noticed that in chapter 22, in his instructions on how the monks should sleep, Benedict’s language echoes the gospel parable of the wise and foolish virgins who have to keep watch. Therefore when Benedict tells the monks to keep a lamp burning, and to encourage each other as they haste to meet their Lord, he is revealing his incarnational principle that the gospel is lived out in our lives in the most profound and simple way. Likewise, in his instructions for monks in the refectory in chapter 35, Benedict gives instructions for the serving monks that echo in words and action the divine office and the Maundy Thursday liturgy. So in the daily routine of serving a meal the beautiful mystery of the incarnation is unlocked.
Through this Benedict teaches me about Emmanuel—the God who is with us. Some people say the devil is in the details. Benedict thinks the divine is in the details. This is nowhere more true than in the rough and tumble of modern family life. The Jews refer to the family as ‘the domestic church’. Benedict reminds me that it is in the religious community of my family that I will learn the difficult lessons of love. Tertullian once wrote that ‘marriage is the seminary of the human race.’ His saying may well be amended to say that ‘the family is the monastery of the human race.’ Just as Benedict’s monks were to find God in the nitty gritty of sixth century domestic life, I am called to find God in the daily sacrifices, pressures and uncertainties of family life at the beginning of the twenty first century. These are the pressures of love, but if I can find love then I will find God for, as St John teaches, ‘those who live in love live in God and God lives in them.’
This is not to equate Christian family life with the life of the monastery or convent. I do not believe either way is superior, but if they are equal they are not interchangeable. I could not attempt the Benedictine life as an oblate if there were no monks, and the monasteries would soon tumble if there were no faithful families to foster monastic and priestly vocations. Instead, in the wider context of the whole body of Christ, the Benedictine way in Christian families and in the monastery complement one another.
Finally, in the midst of a busy family life, I am immensely re-assured by Benedict’s teaching on prayer. In the Rule we do not find a lofty treatise on prayer. There are no purple passages of mystical love for God. Instead we find a rather lengthy and dull treatise on how to pray the psalms at particular times of the year.
Interspersed with this rather mundane approach to prayer are delightful details. The oratory is to be kept open so anyone may go in at any time for a quick time of private prayer. With great relief I find that prayer is to be kept short, to the point and full of simple trust and child like passion. This combination of liturgical prayer and spontaneous prayer works perfectly in the family life. Children thrive on routine and set prayers. They love to memorise and respond with passages of Scripture and the psalms. So as a family we do establish set times of formal prayer. Before we set out for school and work, before we sit down to a meal, before we go to bed at night there are short recitations of prayer. Weekly Mass and daily devotions are set times for short ‘liturgies’ that combine prayer, praise and Scripture. At the same time we teach the children that God is with us always and that we can turn to him at any time with a request, a word of thanks or a brief word of thanks. Many families follow the Benedictine example and establish a little poustinia or quiet place so that the home actually has an oratory so anyone can pop in to pray briefly or just sit still.
I am also striving to establish and maintain this balance in my own personal life. As an oblate I have a rule of daily devotions, lectio divina, and formal prayer. But I also have time to simply refer back to God and offer him thanks, speak to him about the daily problems and needs and moments of reflection in which I am simply made aware of his presence and love.
Undergirding these practical points are the three Benedictine vows of stability, obedience and conversion of life. As a married man I have not made these religious vows. But within the sacrament of my marriage I believe these three vows are there just as surely as they are for a monk or nun. When my wife and I promised to love and honour one another ‘until death do us part.’ We were taking our own form of Benedictine vows of stability and obedience. Stability because we had taken a life long vow. Obedience because within Christian marriage my wife promised to obey me, but I also promised to love her ‘as Christ loved the church and gave himself for her.’ This form of mutual obedience is built into the sacrament of marriage, and thus we try to fulfil this most difficult Benedictine vow together.
The final vow is to conversion of life. The three vows are intertwined so that the vow of stability provides the environment for conversion of life while the vow of obedience provides the method. Whether we are monks, nuns or lay people, conversion of life is the final aim of the whole enterprise. Like the desert monk Abbot Joseph, we want to rise up and be converted into a living flame. Conversion of life means that we have got to the point where we are stable and obedient to one another not because we think we ought to, but because we want to. As Benedict says in chapter seven,
‘Thus when all these steps of humility have been climbed, the monk will soon reach that love of God which, being perfect drives out all fear. Thorough this love all the practices which before he kept somewhat fearfully, he now begins to keep effortlessly and naturally and habitually, influenced not now by any fear of hell, but the force of long practice and the very delight he experiences in virtue.’
If we can finally get to that place where what we want is also what God wants, then without even realising it we will have reached the point where we are running ‘on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts overflowing with an inexpressible delight of love.’
Dwight Longenecker is the author of Listen My Son—St Benedict for Fathers (Gracewing/Morehouse) and St Benedict and St Thérèse—The Little Rule and the Little Way (Gracewing/Our Sunday Visitor) He is working on a new Benedictine title: The Diary of A Suburban Hermit. Dwight can be contacted at Dwight@Longenecker.fsnet.co.uk
2032 words
About the Contributors:
Dwight Longenecker was brought up in an Evangelical home in the USA. In the early eighties he moved to England to study theology and was ordained as an Anglican priest. He and his family were received into the Catholic Church in 1995. He now works as a freelance writer, speaker and broadcaster. He has written seven books and writes regularly for the religious press in England, Ireland and the USA. Dwight is in wide demand to lecture and lead retreats on Benedictine and Thérèsian spirituality.
|
