The fatherhood of Christ
The abbot’s role as father is derivative: he is father because he takes the place of Christ, the real Father of the monks. The practice of designating the Second Person of the Trinity as Father may seem theologically eccentric and at variance with the Scriptures. In fact, however, it was a common theme among the Fathers, and the Rule is drawing upon an already rich tradition. Far from moving in a direction other than the Scriptures, the Fathers were developing an idea that seems at least implicitly contained in the New Testament.46
The New Testament never applies the title “Father” directly to Christ. This title is reserved to the First Person of the Trinity, who is Creator of all that is and Father of the Son. From the viewpoint of inner Trinitarian relationships, he alone can be Father, and the Second Person, eternally begotten by him, can alone be called Son. From the viewpoint of God’s activity outside the Trinity, however, we may consider the Second Person not only in his relation to the Father but also in his relation to us. He is the Mediator through whom God’s word and grace descend to us and our response and prayer ascend to the Father. Jesus Christ is truly human like ourselves and at the same time is the Eternal Son.
Insofar as he comes to us as representative of his Father, Jesus exercises the role of fatherhood on our behalf. It is from him that we receive the commandments of God in the Good News of God’s complete revelation. He is the complete manifestation of the Father. Therefore, he is the supreme Teacher and as such exercises a role that can be compared to fatherhood. If the New Testament does not call him Father, it does refer to his disciples as his sons. Mark records Jesus as saying, “Children (tekna), how hard it is to enter the Kingdom of God!” (Mark 10:24). The usage is more frequent, however, in the Johannine literature. Jesus says to his disciples, “Little children (teknia), yet a little while I am with you” (John 13:33); “I will not leave you orphans” (John 14:18); and “Children (paidia), have you any fish?” (John 21:5). Strictly speaking, this need be nothing more than a term of endearment for those to whom one feels closely bound; the author of 1 John uses the same diminutive in addressing the Christians to whom he writes.
Divine sonship, however, is a prominent theme both in Paul, who speaks of adoptive sonship, and in John, for whom Christians are children of God because they are begotten of him. Both writers, however, speak of children of God, not of Christ; Jesus is Son par excellence, and therefore our elder brother. There is one text, nonetheless, that has perhaps not been sufficiently considered: “Little children, abide in him, so that when he appears we may have confidence .... you may be sure that everyone who does right is born of him” (1 John 2:28-29). Though the context suggests that the Christian is born of Christ, the commentators generally recoil from this conclusion on the grounds that Johannine thought, which insists so much upon birth from God, could not tolerate such an idea.47 There is, however, a respectable history of Patristic interpretation in this sense.48 Whatever may have been the original author’s intent, the Fathers found justification in such New Testament passages for speaking of the fatherhood of Christ.
This idea was also deduced from the text of Isa 9:6, in which the messianic King announced by the prophet is called “Father of the world to come.” Since this passage was seen to be fulfilled in Christ by the New Testament (Matt 4:15-16), the Fathers understood this as a title of Christ.49 Another text of Isaiah (8:18) is quoted by the author of Hebrews: “Here am I, and the children God has given me” (Heb 2:13), who puts it in the mouth of Christ. Although the point of Hebrews is that Christians are children of God and Christ is our brother by reason of assuming our humanity, the quotation from Isaiah can be interpreted in the sense of Christ’s fatherhood. In a similar way, the Pauline theme of Christ as second Adam lent support to this view. Since Adam was father of the human race, and Christ has now assumed the role of the new Adam, he can likewise be considered our father.50
Patristic developments on the fatherhood of Christ began already in the second century and became increasingly abundant thereafter. In the Acts of Justin Martyr and his companions, which date from shortly after the middle of the second century, Hierax, when asked about his parents, replies: “Christ is our true father, and our faith in him is our mother” (Passio Iust., recension B,4). Another witness, possibly from even earlier in the second century, is the Epistula Apostolorum, in which the apostles say to the risen Lord, “You are our father,” and Christ responds by showing how they also are to become fathers and teachers through him by dispensing the word of God, baptism and the forgiveness of sins (Epist.apost. 41-42). The apocryphal Second Letter of Clement says, “He gave us the light; as a father he called us sons; he saved us when we were perishing” (Ps-Clem. ad Cor. 2,1,4). Irenaeus compares Christ to Jacob: as the latter brought forth the twelve tribes, so Christ begot the twelve-pillared foundation of the Church and raised up sons of God (Iren. adv.haer. 4,21,3); “the Word of God is the Father of the human race” (ibid. 4,31,2). Melito of Sardis, in a list of titles given to Christ, includes that of “father insofar as he begets.”51
The fatherhood of Christ is especially developed by the Alexandrian Fathers. While for Clement Christ is primarily the Paedagogos, the Teacher to whom the Father entrusts his children’s instruction, he describes the activity of the Teacher as characterized by tender care and concern like that of a father or mother (Clem. paed. 1,6). In the lyrical concluding hymns of the Paedagogos, he exalts Christ as Creator, King, Lord and Father, and refers to Christians as “the Christ-begotten” (ibid. 3,12). In the Stromata, citing Matt 23:9, he says, “‘you have only one Father who is in heaven,’ but he [Christ] is also the Father of all through creation.” The prohibition against calling anyone father on earth means that our human father is not the true cause of our being; “thus he wants us to turn and become children again, recognizing him who is truly our father, when we are reborn through water” (Clem. strom. 3,12).
Reference to Christ as Father in the works of Origen, fragmentary as they are, is so frequent as to be almost commonplace. In the Homilies on Exodus he explains the phrase “He is my God and the God of my father” of Exod 15:2 as follows: “Our Father who created us and has begotten us is Christ, for he himself tells us, ‘I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ Hence if I acknowledge that God is my God, I will glorify him; but if I further acknowledge that he is the God of my Father, Christ, I will exalt him” (Orig. hom. in Ex. 6,2). Commenting elsewhere on the Lucan genealogy, he says, “The origin of all families descended from the God of the universe began with Christ, who came next after the God and Father of the whole universe, and is thus the Father of every’ soul, as Adam is the father of all human beings” (Orig. prin. 4,3,7). In his exegesis of the Gospel parables in which the paterfamilias appears, he understands him to be Christ. Thus he interprets the householder of Matt 13:52, who brings forth both new and old from his treasure-house (Orig. in Matt. 10,15), and the owner of the vineyard in Matt 20:1-16, who hires laborers to work for him (ibid. 15,28). This Christological interpretation became widespread in the West owing to the great influence exercised by Origen upon subsequent exegesis (see Hil. in Matt. 20,5; Aug. serm. 87,9; Hier. in Matt. 4,25).
The theme of Christ’s fatherhood appears quite frequently in the Latin Fathers and seems to have been tranquilly accepted as traditional (Ps-Cyp. adv.Iud. 2,19; Ambr. epist. 76,4; Aug. epist. 187). Augustine is typical: “Although God’s Son adopted us as sons for his Father, and wished us to have this same Father through grace who was his Father through nature, yet he also shows, as it were, a fatherly attitude toward us when he says, ‘I shall not leave you orphans’” (Aug. in Ioan. 75). St. Leo the Great, without directly giving the title “Father” to Christ, speaks in a similar way, combining this theme with that of the Shepherd (Leo.M. tract. 63,6).
The fatherhood of Christ is but one aspect of a broader phenomenon of devotion to Christ in the early Church, as reflected especially in popular piety. The early Christians did not think o
f him as a remote and transcendent figure, but as a loving Savior with whom they enjoyed a close personal relationship. As a consequence, they spoke to him intimately in prayer and thought of him with love and affection. This disposition is evident in the earliest acts of the martyrs, which are representative of popular piety.52 It can also be found, however, in highly sophisticated thinkers among the Fathers, particularly in oblique remarks through which we catch a glimpse of their personal devotion.53 It is frequent in Origen. A typical example is his well-known statement about the Fourth Gospel: “No one can understand this Gospel unless he has leaned against the breast of Jesus and taken Mary as his Mother” (Orig. in Ioan. 1,4).
It is above all in monastic literature that we find evidence of this Christocentric piety. Monasticism grew out of the most devout circles of the second- and third-century Church, the virgins and ascetics, and was strongly marked with the imprint of the spirituality of martyrdom. At a fairly early stage of its development, monastic theorists made extensive use of Origen to explain the ascetical and mystical life. It is not surprising that the tender devotion to Christ that we find in these sources was inherited by the monks.
The concept of Christ as Father seems to have been held in particular honor in monastic circles. An important text of Evagrius of Pontus reveals not only the use of the title “Father” to designate Christ but also its extension in monastic circles to the human spiritual father. His letter seems to be an answer to some monks who had written asking for spiritual counsel, “the fruits of charity.” He replies: “It is more fitting for you to seek the fruits of charity among yourselves, since divine charity possesses you as a result of apatheia, and indeed the sons do not provide riches for their fathers, but fathers for their sons. Therefore, since you are fathers, imitate Christ your Father, and nourish us at the appointed time with barley loaves through instruction for the betterment of our lives” (Evagr. epist. 61).54 That a similar concept was current in Syria seems clear from its frequent appearance in St. Ephraim, who stresses especially the parallelism with Adam and the function of baptism as the rebirth in which Christ begets sons and daughters to be brought to birth by the Church.55
The position of the Rule, then, is to be evaluated in the light of its extensive background of Christocentric piety in the early Church and in the previous monastic tradition.56 For St. Benedict, Christ is primarily God: he is Father, King, Shepherd, and Paterfamilias. The name Iesus never appears in the RB; he is called Christus, Dominus or Deus. The term Dominus usually refers to Christ, and Deus sometimes does. There is a warm devotion to Christ, which is summed up in the axiom: “the love of Christ must come before all else” or “Let them prefer nothing whatever to Christ” (RB 4.21; 72.11; see also 5.2). The monk meets him in the person of guests and of the sick, and above all in the abbot. There is no hesitation about praying to him; often, though not always, the psalms are prayed to Christ as God.57 The Scriptures, including the Old Testament, are often taken to be the word of Christ.
This Christocentric vision derives from two sources. One is the piety of the early Church and its devotion to Christ, which, as we have seen, was especially cultivated in monastic circles. The other is the influence of the reaction against Arianism, an important factor in the West in the fifth and sixth centuries, which led to increasing emphasis upon the divinity of Christ. This brought about the frequent use of formulas that equated Christ with God, and abandonment of familiar reference to his humanity. As a result, we find in the RB none of the intimate personal address to Jesus that is frequent in Origen. The RB, however, is more moderate in this respect than the RM. The latter is marked not only by Christocentrism, but by what has been called pan-Christism.58 Christ is Creator, Author of the Scriptures, Provider and eschatological Judge. The commentary on the Lord’s Prayer that the Master includes in his introductory material shows quite clearly that “Our Father” means Christ and that the prayer is addressed to him.59 St. Benedict, who sometimes changes the RM’s “Lord” to “God,” is more reserved.60 While Benedict shows greater discretion and more variety of usage, however, the difference is mainly one of degree.
The Prologue of the RB offers a good example of the place that Christ holds in its author’s teaching. It addresses those who want to serve “the true King, Christ the Lord” (3). It is he to whom we pray to bring to perfection the good we initiate, so that we, who are his sons, may not be disinherited by an angry Father (4-7). It is this same Christ who calls out to us in the Scriptures (both Old and New Testaments!), inviting us; he is the paterfamilias of the parable of the vineyard, looking for workmen. In this invitation Christ shows us the way to life (8-20). Taking his Gospel as our guide, we hope one day to see him (Christ) who has invited us (21). In the words of Psalm 13(14), we ask what we must do, and Christ answers us through the same psalm (22-27). Our evil thoughts must be dashed against Christ (28), and we must attribute to his work whatever good is found in us (29-34).
When Christ has finished saying all this, he waits for our answer (35), but patiently gives us time to repent (36-38). We must do what he has told us, asking him for his grace to help us (39-44). We enter a “school for the Lord’s [Christ’s] service,” which will involve some difficulties; but as our love increases, it will be a delight to follow his commands (45-49). Persevering in Christ’s teaching and sharing in his sufferings, we will one day reign with him (50). Throughout this entire development the author is thinking of Christ, and both Dominus and Deus refer to him exclusively. He is Father, Teacher, Paterfamilias, Author of Scripture.
It is no surprise, then, when we come to chapter 2, to find Christ designated as Father of the monks, and the abbot’s role understood to be that of derivative or surrogate father, the one who “holds the place of Christ” (2.2).
How the abbot exercises his office
While the first and fourth sections of chapter 2 of the RM/RB explain what an abbot is, the second and third sections deal with the question, “How does he go about the fulfillment of his responsibility?” How, in practice, does he exercise the role of father, teacher, shepherd, physician and steward in order to make Christ present to his monks? We have seen that these two sections, which closely parallel one another in the RM, deal with two related questions: the abbot’s twofold teaching and the equal charity he must display toward all. We shall now examine the Rule’s doctrine on these points.
The abbot’s essential role is that of teacher: he is called doctor and magister.61 In this he reflects Christ, whose place he holds, for he too is a Teacher: as he handed down the word of God to his disciples, the doctores must do likewise for their contemporaries. The RB never calls Christ “Teacher,” but it speaks of his magisterium (Prol.50), and throughout the Prologue it is he who does the teaching, offering the “way of life.” Christ teaches through the Scriptures, the Rule and the abbot. Therefore the abbot is a teacher in a derivative sense, a channel for transmitting the teaching that Christ gave in the Gospel: “He must never teach or decree or command anything that would deviate from the Lord’s instructions” (2.4).62
Now Christ is Father as well as Teacher, and the abbot likewise is teacher of the monks insofar as he is their father. This means that the teaching role assigned him is a particular kind of teaching, which must be specified. It is not simply what we ordinarily mean by teaching. When the abbot is called “father” and “teacher” and the monastery a “school,” we are in the realm of analogy, and the precise content of the analogy needs to be specified if we are not to fall into error. The teaching to which an abbot is obliged is the kind of teaching a father gives his children rather than the kind a professional teacher gives the student. It is not academic but existential. Its content is not speculative knowledge (though it may well be based upon this and may sometimes include it) but the practical knowledge of how to live. It is not clearly structured and formally presented as a professor’s lectures are, but is communicated in numerous informal and often subtle ways, through personal contact.
Reference t
o the monastery as a school can easily mislead us. For us today, a school is a rather clearly defined type of institution, having to do with what we call “formal education”; in practice we often tend to equate “education” with “school” and to make the mistake of assuming that people who have been through school are educated and, conversely, that people cannot be educated unless they have been through school. In fact, much of our education, particularly the type that is not “formal,” is accomplished apart from school. Education begins at birth, and we all learn some of the most important things (how to speak, walk, eat and behave) before we are sent to school. As a result, we have many teachers, of whom the most important are our parents.
The word schola, which occurs but once in the RB (Prol.45), does not mean quite the same thing as our word “school.”63 The term originally designated a place, a room or hall in which a group of people assembled, a meeting place. The group gathered for a common purpose, which could be of diverse nature: it could, indeed, be a teacher meeting with students to instruct them, but it could also be a group of workers or athletes or soldiers or any group with a common concern (See note to Prol.45). Schola could also designate the group itself, and thus came to mean an assembly of people gathered for a common purpose. In our ordinary usage today, it has been restricted to a single purpose, that of education.64 But in the Rule it does not have this precision, and there is no nuance of “formal education.” It means a group of people who have come together for the common purpose specified by the Rule: to seek God, to imitate Christ, to obey his commands, to persevere in his teaching. In the schola, which is both a place, i.e., an institution, and a human grouping, we learn how to do these things, to follow the “way of life.”65 The process can perhaps be more fittingly compared to an apprenticeship by which a person learns a skill from another through long association with him than to a school in the modern sense.66
RB 1980- The Rule Of St Benedict Page 52