MONASTIC TOPICS IN GENERAL
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RB 72 : The monastic way to eternal life[1] by
: As I mentioned Saturday, it is commonly accepted that
the chapters 67 to 72 of the Rule were added by Benedict, later
on in his life, to the main corpus of the Rule that ended with
what is now chapter 73, which then followed chapter 66. That new
series of chapters treat in a new manner many of the themes that
were already treated in the preceding chapters, but underline
in a particular way the horizontal relationships within the community.
We can consider this chapter
72 as Benedict’s spiritual testament. Furthermore, it cannot be
read separately from chapter 71 on mutual obedience. In the Prologue of the
Rule Benedict imagined the Father going around and saying :
« Is there anyone here who yearns for life ? ».
And chapter 72 ends with
the prayer that Christ may bring us all together to everlasting
life. The whole corpus of the Rule between those two texts describes the means to
be used on that monastic journey leading us to everlasting life. Likewise, Benedict said
at the beginning of the Prologue that he wrote his rule for those
who wanted to return, through the labor of obedience, to the Father
from whom they had drifted through the sloth of disobedience.
And, at the end of the Rule, we have this chapter on mutual obedience;
everything in the between being a description of that journey
through obedience. Benedict speaks of two forms of zeal. As we all know,
the word zeal derives from the Greek zelos,
which designates something that burns.
It is fire. Benedict
speaks of two forms of fire : one that can lead us downwards
and the other that can lead us upwards. Let us be very attentive
to the words he uses. I think that most of us, most of the time, when
we read this text, think in terms of starting from where we are
now, in the middle, --
on earth -- and going, after our death, either to hell or to heaven
according to the type of zeal we have practiced.
It is not what Benedict says.
He speaks of a journey that goes either from God (above)
to hell, or from hell to God. We are always on a journey – on one of these
two journeys. We are never
at a static point from which we can go either up or down, as a
consequence of our acts (our zeal), This journey has to be
understood in the light of the one made by the Son of God, who
came from his Father, shared our humanity, going through death
to the abyss of hell and rising from the ades,
not to our mortal life but to the Father.
In that journey he assumed all our humanity and brought
it up into the bosom of his Father. By the type of zeal we choose, we either ignore
the Incarnation of Christ, and we continue our endless journey
down to the abyss of hell, or we identify with Christ rising from
the dead up to his Father. – It is not simply a question of meriting
hell or meriting heaven according to the zeal we manifest.
In coenobitic life, this
is not a solitary journey :
it is a question of going all
together. This is the fundamental meaning of our community
life. All this is beautifully
summed up in those few sentences : « to try to be the
first to show respect to the other » ; « supporting
with the greatest patience one another’s weaknesses of body or
behavior », « earnestly competing in obedience to one
another », etc. etc. « showing to the brothers a pure love, to God, loving fear, and to
the abbot unfeigned and humble love”. Those could be considered
as simply some good advices for harmonious Christian social living.
But they have also to be read in the general context of
Benedict’s clearly coenobitic orientation. One should never stress
enough how Benedict belongs to the great coenobitic tradition
that goes back not only to Pachomius but also to Basil and other
early forms of Christian coenobitism.
That tradition had been transformed somewhat by Cassian,
first, and especially by the Master, into something more in line
with a semi-eremitical orientation. Fortunately Benedict reintroduced a real coenobitic
flavor taking his inspiration not only from Pachomius but also
from Augustine and Basil. And
that clearly coenobitic orientation of Benedict is found especially
in the chapters he added to the first version of his Rule, most
probably towards the end of his life. I would like to take a
few moments here to describe the early evolution of that coenobitic
tradition, and perhaps this is the occasion to explain a little
more what I said two days ago about the origins of monastic life
going back to Jesus’ baptism. Out textbooks of some
thirty or forty years ago for the history of monasticism used
to give us a very simple picture.
Monastic life was supposed to have come into existence
suddenly, more or less as a mushroom, in That vision is too simple to be true, and even too simplistic. The reality is much more complex
and much more beautiful. In reality monastic life developed in
all the local Churches both of the East and the West, more or
less at the same time, and out of the vitality of each local Church
– although it is true that it developed in a very special way
in Egypt and that the Egyptian monasticism, therefore, had a special
influence on the rest of Christian monasticism. The common understanding that
monastic life began at the beginning of the fourth or the end
of the third century is a kind of convenient convention of historians. From the middle of the 20th century
on, many good studies described what was then called pre-monasticism
in To make a long story short,
we can say that the picture that emerges from all the studies
is this : There existed in late Judaism and throughout
Asia in the time of Jesus a large and strong ascetic movement,
of which Now, I would like to add another
previous note, concerning the specificity of coenobitic life. The earliest known form of Christian
monastic life, in Then, you have the relationship
of the master to the disciple, a one to one relationship, very
similar to that of the guru of In coenobitic life you have
a quite different situation. The
great coenobitic founders, like Pachomius or Basil, to name only
these two, realized that many disciples were seeking the same
goal and were on the same spiritual journey.
Their charism was to establish a way of life, expressed
in a common rule inspired by the Gospel. The experience of the founder and of all his
disciples was then embodied in that Rule adopted by the whole
community of brothers (or sisters).
The role that the spiritual master of the desert used to
play was then transferred to the community.
The role of the coenobitic abba was then a service within
the community. In that
context, you are formed as a Christian monastic by living the
Gospel within a community, according to a common rule, under the
guidance of an abbot. This is the vision that you
find in the Rule of Benedict. In the first chapter, on the kinds
of monks, Benedict distinguishes between the hermits whom he appreciates
although it is not for them that he writes his Rule, the gyrovague
and the sarabaites, for whom he has nothing good to say, and the
cenobites, for whom he is writing his Rule. He then mentions in
a brief sentence the three basic elements of coenobitic life.
A cenobite is someone who lives « in community, under a rule,
and an abbot » – and the order in which he mentions those three
elements is very important. The
basic element is the community, then there is the Rule, because
a community is composed of brothers/sisters gathered around a
common vision, a common rule of life ; then comes the abbot/abbess
who is a member of the community and has the responsibility to
see that each one will really be formed through the common life.
The role of the abbot is no longer to share his own experience, as a guru, but to lead everyone in the common
experience of the Gospel according to a rule of life freely chosen
by all. We have the same three elements
expressed again a number of times in the Rule.
For example, at the time of the profession, after the twelve
months of formation and discernment :
the candidate will promise his stability (in the community),
his conversatio (that is, his life according to the rule), and
his obedience to his abbot. In that tradition, obedience
is not seen as a tool of formation or as an ascetical practice. It is the constant search of the will of God,
using some specific tools. Obedience
is always to God, although some forms of mediation are given to
discover it. Christ is the Father of the community.
His fatherhood/motherhood is embodied in the community
life and is exercised by the abbot or the abbess. Then the abbot
shares this exercise of Christ’s fatherhood with many persons,
like the deans or the prior, the infirmarian, the guest master,
and all those who exercise any type of service in the community.
Eventually, he shares it with all the members of the community
through the conventual chapter. And all the members exercise that same spiritual
motherhood or fatherhood toward the whole community, through the
exercise of mutual obedience, as mentioned in chapter 71, inseparable
from chapter 72. Now, after that long detour
– which I don’t think was useless – we are back to our chapter
72 on the good zeal ! With
this spiritual orientation in mind, some of Benedict’s recommendations
take on a new dimension : “To their fellow monks they show the
pure love of brothers; to God, loving fear; to their abbot, unfeigned
and humble love”. Likewise, the recommendation of “earnestly competing
in obedience to one another, and for no one “to pursue what he
judges better for himself, but instead, what he judges better
for someone else”. All these recommendations
and especially the one of “supporting with the greatest patience
one another’s weaknesses of body and behavior” have their full
meaning only if they are read on the background of Matthew 25.
The goal is not so much
to try to identify to Christ, imitating Him, that is, acting as
we imagine he would act if he were in our situation.
No, the goal is to acknowledge those with whom Christ has
chosen to identify. To see Christ in our abbot, but also in each
one of our brothers or sisters, and most especially in those who
are more in need – those who are suffering, who are poor
and limited, physically, psychologically, even spiritually.
(We have to see him also in the pilgrims and visitors who
come to the monastery). With this is mind, let us come
back to the opening mention of the two forms of zeal that lead
either downwards or upwards. Christ ascending to his Father is
a journey that cannot be understood separately from his journey
down towards us, even to death and to the abyss of hell.
There is a way to go down to this abyss of hell, which
is by refusing love and communion, and therefore refusing salvation.
But there is another way to descend into the same abyss
: along with Christ,
with the same love and compassion as he did, and then, from there,
to ascend to the Father. Then, we can read in that
light everything that is found in the Rule concerning the attitude
towards human weakness – human weakness in each one of us as well
as human weakness in others. We
could mention here everything that the Rule says about the treatment
of the sick – and that includes all forms of sickness; the respectful
attention to those who are struggling with God, like Jacob; and
the compassionate treatment of sinners (while being clear and
firm about sin – including ours). * * * There are also the weaknesses
of the community itself. In
that context we can speak of all the forms of precariousness that we experience today in any of our communities.
I must say that I have mixed feelings about the use of that word;
because I have the feeling that often – at least in my Order –
it is used to create a distinction between two groups of communities
: those that are precarious; and those that are supposed not to be precarious...
We are all precarious. Precariousness is a dimension
of human life. It is a
necessary dimension of our beauty as creatures.
There is nothing as precarious as a beautiful flower. The whole mankind is precarious. And the marvelous
thing is that God, after creating a precarious universe, assumed
Himself that precariousness through the Incarnation. As a man he lived a precarious existence and
died at the early age of about 33 year old. The Church is precarious; and it is its normal state. Recently I read again a patristic writing of
the first centuries : The Epistle to Diognetos which may have
been written by S. Justin, the martyr.
It was published in the collection Source
Chrétiennes, several decades ago with a commentary by a great
patrologist and historian, Irénée Marrou.
It is a beautiful document : a well cultured intellectual
Christian writing to an intellectual Pagan. He describes the very humble, precarious situation
of the Christians. They
are like any other citizens. They
get married and have children.
They work to make a living, they take part in social life,
etc. Their difference is their faith in Christ and
the love they show one another. Marrou makes the following commentary
: That was, he says, the normal situation of the
Church : the witness to Christ by a very small group of believers. Then, there was a long period of history during
which the Church was influent and powerful.
That was, says Marrou, a long parenthesis. Now the parenthesis is being closed, we are
back to normal. The future of all our
communities is uncertain, as is the future of any human institution.
Obviously it is more uncertain for some as for others.
Some of our communities live situations more critical than
others. It is not impossible that some will have to
close or to abandon some of their forms of apostolate. It would be a mistake,
however, to try to treat that question as if it were a problem
proper to some communities only or as a monastic or even a religious
problem, to which we have to find our own solutions. It is a problem
of the Church as a whole and a problem of the society in which
we live. The problem is
certainly more acute in Europe as in The Church founded by
Christ was precarious during several centuries.
Today, in many parts of the world, it is again precarious
– which is, according to the Gospel, its normal situation : a
little handful of leaven in the dough of humanity.
Between these two situations, as I just said there was
a long parenthesis during which the Church was glorious and powerful.
The present situation corresponds more to the very nature of the
Church which was sent to be a visible sign of salvation in the
midst of the nations, and not as a conquest enterprise. What characterized the
situation of Christendom during the Middle Ages, was that the
Christian values were for everyone a point of reference.
People were not better believers and did not have a better
moral life than today. There
was violence and there were constant wars (although less devastating
as those of today). But the Christian values were recognized by
everyone, including by those who did not live according to them. Those values were often imposed through the
arms. During that period
many external aspects of religious life (for example the material
enclosure and the religious habit had for everyone a symbolic
value. The Church exercised
a great power in the fields of education and in many aspects of
social, political and economic life. Whether we regret it or
not, that situation does not exist anymore, at least in most of
the countries of the Western World. Efforts to reestablish it
are pathetic and useless in the long range.
To consider that situation simply as “dechristianization”
seems to me too simplistic an analysis. The Church -- that is, all of us -- must re-learn
to live without power. This is not the time
or the place to analyse what our communities, congregations and
Orders have lived through in the Church since the Council. It would be wrong to attribute to the Council
and to the reforms provoked by it the great diminution of the
number of vocations in many parts of the Church and the closing
of so many communities and so many church-related institutions.
What the Council asked for was a spiritual renewal; and
I think that, as a whole, we put all our efforts into that spiritual
renewal. But such a spiritual renewal required some structural
transformations, which, for most of them, arrived too late.
The krisis (in the etymological and positive
meaning of the word) that such transformations provoked had a
great purification as a consequence.
We have gone through the
same experience as Job in the Bible… We realized that even without
many of the things that gave us our social identity and of which
we were proud, we exist. Most
of our communities are no longer strong, powerful and influential
as in the past centuries; but in their precariousness and their
weakness, they continue to be witnesses to the sequela Christi. This is our vocation: To prefer nothing to the
love of Christ, to follow Christ in a society that is itself in
profound transformation and always seeking its own identity. Our communities can give that evangelical witness,
whether they are small or big.
Our identity does not reside in the services that we have
fulfilled or are still fulfilling in the Church, but in what we
are, spiritually. One of the poverties that
we experience is that we do not even have a renewed theology of
religious life. In the
whole contemporary theological reflection, there has not been
any profound renewal of the theology of religious life – although
there have been many good essays on it. But, has there been, really, a real renewal
of the theology of marriage, of priesthood, of the ministry of
the bishop? Has there been, since the Council a real renewal of
theology? Even with our weaknesses,
and perhaps because of our weaknesses, we have also a mission
to play in our suffering world. The present geo-political evolution
of the world has created an encounter on a massive scale of cultures
and religions in all the parts of the world, but especially in
our Western world. At the same time there are forces (we are tempted
to speak of diabolical forces) that try to develop tensions, even
wars between cultures and religions.
Monks and nuns have certainly a very special role to play
in this area. Not only because we are present in all the parts
of the world and therefore have, as Orders and Congregations,
a worldwide experience; but also – and still more – because what
is at the core of our life, that is, spiritual experience, is
also what is at the core of most of the great religions of the
world. When it is difficult
and at times impossible to dialogue at the level of philosophical
and theological concepts, it is much easier to meet at the level
of spiritual experience. **** We can approach that question
of the good zeal from many aspects that may seem unrelated. In fact, they all bring us back to the same
reality of communion -- koinonia. Jesus said that he brought fire (zelos)
to the earth, and that
he wanted that fire to spread all over.
If that fire is really burning in each one of our heart,
it will develop into an ongoing communion : communion with God
embodied in the communion with our sisters or brothers within
each one of our communities. And that communion within each one of our communities
is real only if it is a burning fire that spreads all over and
develops into communion with the local Church, the universal Church,
with other religions and with the world at large, and most especially
with all those with whom Jesus chose to identify, the Little Ones. February 5, 2007 return to
list of articles on this theme [1] This is the second of two talks
given at the Conference
of Benedictine Abbots and Prioresses at the Mercy Center, |
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