RB 1980- The Rule Of St Benedict

by Saint Benedict

  60 On the juridical aspects of stability, see J. Lahache “Stabilité monastique” Dictionnaire de droit canonique 7.1078–86.

  61 RB 61 deals with the case of a monachus peregrinus and says that if his life is edifying, he may be received into the community, but with the proviso that his abbot must first give consent if he is from a “known” monastery (61.13). It does not explicitly treat the opposite case of a monk from Benedict’s monastery who wishes to transfer elsewhere. Can St. Benedict’s tolerance of the latter be inferred from the fact that he says, “Never do to another what you do not want done to yourself” (Tob 4:16; RB 61.14), or is this merely a kind of cliché to provide biblical justification for his regulation?

  62 See de Vogüé, 6.1326–29.

  Appendix 6

  The Role and Interpretation of Scripture in the Rule of Benedict

  Whatever other factors may have been involved in the rise and development of the monastic movement, there is no doubt that the central factor, without which the monastic movement is simply unthinkable, is the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments.1 The monastic way of life was conceived as a response to the precepts of Scripture and was oriented toward the progressive assimilation of the truths of Scripture. Athanasius portrayed Antony as taking up the monastic form of life in simple obedience to hearing the words of Scripture.2 Pachomius and his successors were famous for their ability to interpret the Scriptures (e.g., Vita bo 190; Vita sa5 129). The fame of many of the monks who appear in the Apophthegmata was due to their ability to interpret Scripture and apply it to practical situations. The study of Scripture was likewise the central activity of the more learned representatives of the movement such as Jerome, Rufinus, Basil and Evagrius. Monastic culture was built out of the materials of Scripture and was centered on its study and assimilation.

  To perceive the centrality of Scripture to monastic culture, one need only advert to the role Scripture has always played in the activity that is at the heart of monastic life—prayer. Both personal and common prayer were from the beginning constructed from, and nourished by, the texts of Scripture. The poetic texts of the Old Testament, especially the psalms, came to form the heart of the Divine Office at an early date, and the narrative materials of both Testaments provided material for the liturgical readings. The personal reading of monks was also centered on Scripture. Lectio was termed divina because it was the reading of Scripture. Meditation in antiquity was conceived essentially as an effort to digest and assimilate the biblical text through repeated recollection of it. And contemplation was to attain the steady vision of those realities presented by Scripture.3

  The early monks thought that Scripture could provide not only material for the life of prayer but also guidelines for organizing the whole of life. It is the ultimate rule, the rectissima norma vitae humanae, as St. Benedict terms it (RB 73.3). It provided the principles for dealing with all sorts of practical situations, such as the number of hours of prayer (RB 16), the distribution of goods (RB 33–34), disciplinary matters (RB 25,27), the amount of food and drink (RB 39–40). The Bible, however, is a vast compilation of disparate, sometimes seemingly contradictory materials. Those who sought to live by the Gospel needed a practical compendium, an abridged version, containing those precepts that applied most directly to the organization of monastic life. This was the function of some of the monastic rules. The scriptural quotations contained in them are cited not just to provide embellishment but because they are considered normative. They are part of the rule. It is hardly surprising, then, that these early rules contain so many quotations from, and allusions to, biblical texts.

  The number of citations and allusions found in the Rule of St. Benedict by modern editors has varied greatly. While Butler found 94 citations and allusions from the Old Testament and 104 from the New Testament, more recently Hanslik found 145 from the Old Testament (88 citations and 57 allusions) and 165 from the New Testament (65 citations and 100 allusions).4 De Vogüé found 124 from the Old Testament (86 citations and 38 allusions) and 168 from the New Testament (104 citations and 64 allusions).5 The present edition of the Rule lists 132 references to the Old Testament and 189 to the New Testament. Clearly, the determination of the exact number is somewhat subjective and depends upon the criteria used by editors. It is often impossible to determine whether a passage contains an allusion to a biblical text or simply biblically flavored language. A few examples may serve to illustrate this. In Prol.3 the phrase “weapons of obedience” finds a certain resonance in 2 Cor 10:4-6. The phrase “has counted us as his sons” (Prol.5) resembles Wis 5:5. One is reminded of Deut 6:7 by the style of RB 7.63. But it is not at all clear that the authors of RM and RB had such texts in mind as they wrote.

  The modern reader is often hampered in his recognition of scriptural citations and allusions by two factors that distinguish modern reading from that of the sixth century. First, in antiquity there was far less reading material to be consumed than there is now. The Venerable Bede had at his disposal a library of about two hundred volumes, a distinguished collection for his day but very small by modern standards. Second, reading was almost always done aloud, even in private. St. Augustine expressed some astonishment when he discovered St. Ambrose reading silently (conf. 6,2). In the Rule itself (48.5), the brothers are cautioned to read so as not to disturb others, that is, by reading too loudly. This manner of reading inevitably helped to fix phrases in the reader’s mind far more easily than does the rapid silent scanning of great quantities of print that is the modern practice.

  In recent times there has been a multiplication of new translations of the Bible, especially in the major modern languages, both for private and liturgical use. This also tends to decrease the possibility of recognizing scriptural allusions. In the sixth century this was not the case. There were basically only two Latin versions available (although these may have contained many variant readings): the old Latin (Vetus Latina) and Jerome’s great revision of the Latin Bible, known as the Vulgate. Many of the liturgical texts had become fixed in the old Latin version, but the Vulgate version came to supplant the old Latin for both public and private reading. The version quoted in the Rule is most often the Vulgate, but nineteen of the citations from the Old Testament and eighteen of those from the New Testament depart from the Vulgate.6 It is not always possible to determine whether this is due to a distinct version or to quotation from memory. In any case, the vernacular biblical text was far more standard than it is today.

  In the Rule, Scripture is often considered to be speaking directly to the reader or hearer. It is not merely a source of information about the past or even of revelation about the past, but a guide to life here and now. The Patristic writer thought it obvious that many passages of Scripture were directed to his contemporaries as much as to the contemporaries of the human author of the biblical book, and consequently they were not thought to need any elaborate historical interpretation. In Prol.8 it is said that “the Scriptures rouse us when they say: ‘It is high time for us to arise from sleep.’” It is possible that a citation such as this is intended to recall the whole passage of Rom 13:10-13 to mind.7 In any case, the author of the Rule sees in it not just an exhortation by St. Paul to the church in Rome to whom he was writing but a word addressed to later generations as well. We too must be roused from our “sleep” by the Word of God. The idea that Scripture is speaking directly to the reader or hearer is very common in the Rule. Out of the 94 instances where a citation is introduced by a formula, 28 begin with a reference to Scripture addressing the monk. In 23 cases it is the Lord who addresses the monk (through the Scriptures).8 In RB 7 alone, Scripture is said to speak to us (7.19,21,25,33,36,38,41,45), to cry to us (7.1), to command us (7.25), to exhort us (7.45), and to warn us (7.57).

  Scripture is described in a variety of ways in the Rule, indicating both the regard in which it is held and the uses it is seen to have. In Prol.9 it is described as “the light that comes from God” (deificum lumen) and “the voice from heaven” (vox d
ivina). The last phrase refers especially to the exhortation of the invitatory psalm (Ps 94 [95]) heard daily: “If you hear his voice today, do not harden your hearts” (Prol.10). In fact, in Prol.8-10 an elaborate analogy is drawn between the daily rising from sleep to hear the words of Scripture and the taking up of the monastic life in general as a rising from sleep. Hence Scripture can be described as the “light” that awakens us as well as the “voice that rouses us. The whole of monastic life is thus conceived in these verses as an attempt to respond to the word of Scripture addressed to us.

  In Prol.21 the Gospel is described as “our guide.” The teaching of both the Rule and the abbot is intended to reflect the teaching of the Gospel. A related phrase, “the Lord’s instructions,” is contained in a warning in RB 2.4; the abbot is warned not to teach anything at variance with these. Thus the Rule is intended simply as an aid for monks to live by the Scriptures. This is made even more explicit in RB 73, where the Rule is described as “this little rule … for beginners.” But it is Scripture itself, which has divine authority (sermo divinae auctoritatis), that is “the truest of guides for human life” (73.3).

  Scripture is also regarded in the Rule as a law. The abbot is required to be learned in “the divine law” (RB 64.9). The Lord’s instructions are understood to be binding (2.4). It is the duty of the abbot to teach the monks how to live by the Scriptures (2.6). He is to put before his monks the “commandments of the Lord” both by his words and his example (2.12). The deans of the monastery are to carry out their tasks according to the “commandments of God” (21.2). The “divine law” is to be read to guests for their instruction when they arrive (53.9). Finally, the monastery, conceived as a school for the Lord’s service (Prol.45), is the place where the monks learn to “run on the path of God’s commandments” (Prol.49).

  The Rule also describes Scripture as “medicine” (28.3). It is one of the remedies that the abbot, acting as a wise physician, is to use in trying to cure his disciples of their faults. This notion is deeply embedded in the monastic tradition and indeed in the New Testament, where Jesus is compared to a physician (Matt 9:12; Mark 2:17). Monastic life can be conceived in its entirety as an effort to heal the wounds of sin or to cure the spiritual diseases to which we are subject. These include especially the eight principal thoughts (see note on RB 1.5). The ability to bring forth the right word from Scripture for the occasion or a saying derived from Scripture was the principal attribute that characterized an “abba” among the early monks.9

  The literal and non-literal interpretation of Scripture

  The modern study of Scripture has come to be dominated, especially during the past century, by what is termed the historical-critical method. In this methodology it is accepted that the only valid sense of Scripture is the literal sense, that is, the meaning intended in the text by the original human author. To determine this meaning, it becomes important to reconstruct, to the extent that it is possible, the historical situation in which the author was writing, to discover successive stages or layers of authorship, etc. This increasingly complex methodology has produced considerable gains in our historical knowledge, in our knowledge of the history of Israel and of the development of Israelite religion, and in our ability to understand the individual texts of both the Old and New Testaments. We have become increasingly aware of the distinctive literary genres in the biblical literature and of the subtleties of theological vision in these texts. All these gains in historical knowledge, however, have also raised in the minds of many the question of what relevance the knowledge has to actual religious life today.10 Even when these texts are viewed as a record of God’s dealings with his people, does our greater historical awareness make the texts more relevant to our religious situation? Do these texts still have something to say to us today, or are they simply a record of the past? Such questions have led to the further complexities of the so-called hermeneutical problem.

  These are not altogether new questions, although they may be formulated in new ways and for new reasons. They were present implicitly or explicitly in the Patristic period and to a certain degree even in the New Testament. The process of reinterpreting many of the theological concepts of the Old Testament, begun in the ministry of Jesus and continued in the writings of the New Testament, inevitably led to the question of the relevance of many of the older texts. Although there is a strong sense of the continuity of God’s design in the history of Israel and in his dramatic intervention in history through Jesus Christ, there is also a sense of discontinuity caused precisely by the dramatic quality of this intervention. Is not much of the Old Testament now out of date? At a very early date Paul found it necessary to argue in his letters to the Galatians and Romans both that there was something radically new in what God had done through Jesus Christ that invalidated the old law, and yet that there was a basic unity and continuity in God’s design, that in fact the old dispensation had foreshadowed the new.

  It was similar questions that led Marcion to draw up a much restricted canon of Scripture in the second century. But the dominant response of the Patristic period to these questions of continuity and relevance was to interpret the biblical texts, especially those of the Old Testament, in multiple senses.11 The roots of this methodology were to be found within Scripture itself. A piece such as the Song of Songs, originally composed, it seems, as love poetry, had probably come to be included in the Hebrew canon of Scripture because of the allegorical interpretation attached to it. In this interpretation, the Song was thought to represent the love-relationship between God and his people Israel, personified as a woman. This was an idea present already in many of the prophets, e.g., Hosea, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel. Its deeper roots probably lay in Canaanite mythology. Likewise, in the New Testament Paul had given to many of the Old Testament texts a figurative or allegorical meaning. Thus, Hagar prefigures the earthly Jerusalem, and Sarah the heavenly Jerusalem (Gal 4:21-31). Of course, the notion of a “heavenly” Jerusalem is itself already an allegorical interpretation. Similarly, the rock that Moses struck to provide water for the Israelites is seen by Paul to represent Christ (1 Cor 10:4).

  The Book of Psalms in particular received a special interpretation that helped to adapt it to the needs of Christian worship. In modern times we have become accustomed to think of the psalms as a collection, or several collections, of rather heterogeneous religious poetry, much of which was composed for specific cultic or ritual circumstances over a period of many centuries. These poems contain frequent references to different types of Israelite sacrifice and ritual, or to occasions for offering sacrifice, such as thanksgiving, lamentation, etc. In the Patristic period, however, the psalter was regarded as the work of a single author, David, who, it was thought, had composed it as a work of prophecy. This idea is present already in the New Testament (e.g., Acts 2:30; Heb 7:17). At first it was a matter of applying specific verses to Christ, such as Ps 110:1. Then the way was open to try to interpret all of the psalter as prefiguring the Christian dispensation. This approach to the psalms helps to explain how these songs, which often contained theological ideas rather at odds with Christian ones, could so easily have been adapted to the needs of Christian worship.

  The tradition of Davidic authorship is reflected in the Rule, where quotations from the psalms are frequently introduced by a formula such as “the Prophet indicates” (e.g., Prol.23,30; 2.9; 6.1; 7.3,14,23; 16.1; 19.3). This, in addition to the fact that in monastic circles it was expected that the entire psalter would be committed to memory, also helps to explain the great frequency with which the psalms are cited in monastic literature as providing guidance for correct living.

  The indication, already present in the New Testament, of how Christians could read the Old Testament in a Christian sense had been fully developed into an elaborate method in the Patristic period, before the time of St. Benedict. This was the work especially of the Alexandrian school, of which the most outstanding and influential representative was Origen. His innovations in interpretatio
n have been described elsewhere in this volume.12 Origen was convinced that the “spiritual” meaning of Scripture was as important as the literal or historical one. The man who saw only the latter meaning was like the Israelite; he did not look beneath the surface of Scripture. But the Christian who was spiritually minded could have the veil removed from his eyes by the Holy Spirit, and then beneath the letter of Scripture he could find food for his soul.

  This tradition of spiritual interpretation had become quite popular in the last quarter of the fourth century in monastic circles in Egypt and Palestine, where it was promoted especially by Evagrius and Rufinus. It was brought into the Western monastic tradition by Cassian in a form that became standard. The central role that the “spiritual” meaning held in this tradition is clearly indicated in the following passage:

  You should show yourself diligent, indeed constant, in the reading of Scripture until continual meditation fills your heart and forms you as it were after its likeness; while you make out of it in some way an ark of the covenant, having within two tables of stone, which are the two testaments eternal and sure; and a golden pot that signifies a pure and sincere memory preserving with continual carefulness the manna hidden within it, the manna of the everlasting and heavenly sweetness of the spiritual meaning and the bread of angels; the rod of Aaron, too, which represents the saving standard of our supreme and true high priest, Jesus Christ, which forever buds with freshness of immortal memory. … All these are guarded by two Cherubim, the fulness of historical and spiritual knowledge (Cassian. conl. 14,10,2-3; tr. by Gibson).