The Rule of Benedict

by Joan Chittister

  The spiritual life is not a set of exercises appended to our ordinary routine. It is a complete reordering of our values and our priorities and our lives. Spirituality is not just a matter of joining the closest religious community or parish committee or faith-sharing group. Spirituality is that depth of soul that changes our lives and focuses our efforts and leads us to see the world differently than we ever did before. The Mezeritizer rabbi taught, “There are sparks of holiness in everything. They constitute our spirituality.” Benedict, too, wants proof of this commitment to truth and perseverance in the search before a new member is even admitted to the community. “Test the spirits,” the Rule says, and test he does, in more than one place. Even the newcomer is left sitting in the guesthouse until the community is sure that the applicant is sure. No one is to enter a Benedictine community on impulse and, once there, no one is to treat life as a series of hapless circumstances. In fact, life itself is a discipline. Life is something that we are to live with purpose and control right from the very beginning. Life is not easy and life is not to be lived as if it were, for fear that when we really need internal fortitude we will not have developed it.

  It is an important insight for all of us. We must develop the rigor it takes to live through what life deals us. We can’t set out to get holy in the hope that we will then automatically become faithful. We must require fidelity of ourselves even when we fail, in the hope that someday, as a result, we will finally become holy.

  A senior chosen for skill in winning souls should be appointed to look after the newcomer with careful attention. The concern must be whether the novice truly seeks God and shows eagerness for the Opus Dei, for obedience, and for trials. The novices should be clearly told all the hardships and difficulties that will lead to God.

  There are two elements of this paragraph that may come as a surprise in the wake of early twentieth-century spirituality with its emphasis on particular examens and reparation for sin. The first is that it is not perfection that Benedict insists on in a newcomer to the spiritual life; it is direction. “The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life,” Robert Browning wrote. The Rule of Benedict wants to know at what we’re aiming: prayer, concern for the will of God, commitment—whatever the cost—or lesser things?

  The second surprise in a document that was written in a century of harsh penances and rigorous pious disciplines is that the director is not asked to be harsh and demanding but “skilled in winning souls,” someone who can make a hard way possible.

  In the spiritual life we may fail often but we may never change course and we must always seek the help of those whose ways are wiser and more tried than ours.

  If they promise perseverance in stability, then after two months have elapsed let this rule be read straight through to them, and let them be told, “This is the law under which you are choosing to serve. If you can keep it, come in. If not, feel free to leave.” If they still stand firm, they are to be taken back to the novitiate, and again thoroughly tested in all patience. After six months have passed, the rule is to be read to them, so that they may know what they are entering. If once more they stand firm, let four months go by, and then read this rule to them again. If after due reflection they promise to observe everything and to obey every command given them, let them then be received into the community. But they must be well aware that, as the law of the rule establishes, from this day they are no longer free to leave the monastery, nor to shake from their neck the yoke of the rule which, in the course of so prolonged a period of reflection, they were free either to reject or to accept.

  Benedict allows no one to take on the monastic life without knowing what it entails—in full and without gloss. At the same time, the Rule makes it quite clear that this is the process of a lifetime. It is not a year’s experience; it is not a degree once gotten and then ignored. This is not a spiritual quick fix. It is a way of life and it takes a lifetime to absorb. Nothing important, nothing life altering, nothing that demands total commitment can be tried on lightly and easily discarded. It is the work of a lifetime that takes a lifetime to leaven us until, imperceptibly, we find ourselves changed into what we sought.

  April 12 – Aug. 12 – Dec. 12

  When they are to be received, they come before the whole community in the oratory and promise stability, fidelity to the monastic life, and obedience. This is done in the presence of God and the saints to impress on the novices that if they ever act otherwise, they will surely be condemned by the one they mock.

  They state their promise in a document drawn up in the name of the saints whose relics are there and of the prioress or abbot, who is present. Novices write out this document themselves, or if they are illiterate, then they ask someone else to write it for them, but put their mark to it and with their own hand lay it on the altar. After they have put it there, the novice begins the verse: “Receive me, O God, as you have promised, and I shall live; do not disappoint me in my hope” (Ps. 119:116). The whole community repeats the verse three times, and adds the doxology. Then the novices prostrate themselves at the feet of each member to ask prayers, and from that very day they are to be counted as one of the community.

  Benedictine life is rooted in three dimensions: commitment to a community, fidelity to a monastic way of life, and obedience. It is a life that sees sanctification as a by-product of human society, the development of a new way of thinking and living, and a total openness to the constantly emerging challenges of the God-life within us. To pursue a Benedictine spirituality, we must carry our part of the human race and allow it to mold and polish and temper us. We are to be people who see the globe through eyes softened by the gospel. We are to see change and challenge in life as God’s voice in our ears. Benedictine spirituality goes into the heart in order to embrace the world. It forms us differently than the world forms us but it does not attempt to shape us independent of the real world around us. The whole point of the profession ceremony itself is quite the opposite. We are, in fact, to make this commitment consciously and knowledgeably and publicly, in the presence of the community, the communion of saints that are represented by the relics of the church, and the leader of the community. This is a declaration that binds us to others and raises us beyond the changing feelings of the day to the obligations of a lifetime.

  If they have any possessions, they should either give them to the poor beforehand, or make a formal donation of them to the monastery, without keeping back a single thing for themselves, well aware that from that day they will not have even their own body at their disposal. Then and there in the oratory, they are to be stripped of everything of their own that they are wearing and clothed in what belongs to the monastery. The clothing taken from them is to be put away and kept safely in the wardrobe, so that, should they ever agree to the devil’s suggestion and leave the monastery—which God forbid—they can be stripped of the clothing of the monastery before they are cast out. But that document of theirs which the prioress or abbot took from the altar should not be given back to them but kept in the monastery.

  This passage of the Rule points out in a particularly graphic way that Benedictine spirituality demands a total change of the way we relate to life. In the first place, monastics are to depend entirely on the community for their support. They don’t bring with them the family wealth, and they don’t have any claim to personal property, not even their clothes. They give everything that they have gained up to the time of their entry into the community either to the poor or to the monastery itself. From then on, it is the support of the community and the providence of God upon which they are to depend, not on their savings, not on their business acumen, not on their relatives and connections. From then on they go through life as a people whose trust is in God and who are responsible for one another. The purpose, of course, is to free a person forcibly from the agenda of the world. “Those who have cattle have care,” an African proverb teaches. We “can’t serve God and mammon,” the Scriptures say. The point of Benedictine spirituality is th
at we have to decide, once and for all, what we are about and then live in a way that makes that possible and makes that real.

  CHAPTER 59

  THE OFFERING OF CHILDREN BY NOBLES OR BY THE POOR

  April 13 – Aug. 13 – Dec. 13

  If a member of the nobility offers a child to God in the monastery, and the child is too young, the parents draw up the document mentioned above; then, at the presentation of the gifts, they wrap the document itself and the child’s hand in the altar cloth. That is how they make their offering.

  As to their property, they either make a sworn promise in this document that they will never personally, never through an intermediary, nor in any way at all, nor at any time, give the child anything or afford the child the opportunity to possess anything; or else, if they are unwilling to do this and still wish to win their reward for making an offering to the monastery, they make a formal donation of the property that they want to give to the monastery, keeping the revenue for themselves, should they so desire. This ought to leave no way open for the child to entertain any expectations that could deceive and lead to ruin. May God forbid this, but we have learned from experience that it can happen.

  The dedication of children to God by their parents, the designation of their professions, or even the selection of their marriage partners was a common practice for centuries. The gifting of a child to a monastery, in particular, was believed to assure the salvation of the parents as well as the child. Not until the Council of Trent did the church itself define a legal profession age. In a period of history in which dedication of a child to God was a common pious practice, Benedict takes pains to see that the piety is not corrupted by the inexorable tension between the high ideals of the family and the test of time on the decision. The fact is that when the full realization of what we have promised begins to dawn on us, it is often more common to come to dubious terms with the demise of the commitment than it is to quit it. We marry in haste and then, as the years go by, we find ourselves starting to live life in two different parts of the house. We promise to spend more time with the children but read in the car while they play in the park. We take a job as a night security guard and go to sleep at the desk. Benedict wants to avoid that kind of silent erosion of zeal by binding both the child who is being given and the parents who do the giving to the promise to let the thing go on being what it set out to be. Benedict does not want the child torn between two identities, community member and family member, as it gets older. More than that, he does not want the parents themselves to begin to take back the spiritual covenant they have promised for the sake of their posterity or influence.

  It is a chapter concerned about simplicity and community and equality, true, but it is also a chapter dedicated to the spirituality of the long haul. We must learn to complete in faith what we began in enthusiasm; we must learn to be true to ourselves; we must continue to become what we said we would be, even when accommodation to the immediate seems to be so much more sensible, so much more reasonable, so much easier.

  Poor people do the same, but those who have nothing at all simply write the document and, in the presence of witnesses, offer their child with the gifts.

  The ability to eliminate distinctions between people is a hallmark of Benedictine simplicity and community. In the preceding paragraph it is obvious that Benedict is not accepting the children of the wealthy because their parents will endow the monastery. Whether they do or whether they don’t makes no difference to him at all. What matters is that the children accepted as monastics out of the fervor of their parents’ hearts be allowed to develop as monastics. Otherwise, he clearly fears, the community life and spirituality of the house will be corrupted by the independently wealthy who, as the years go by, grow more into the family fortune than into the monastic life. The poor have nothing whatsoever to give except their children, and Benedict accepts them on the same grounds, with the same ceremony, in the same spirit. Benedictine spirituality does not fear poverty; it fears the kind of self-sufficiency that frees people from the smelting effects of a communal spirituality.

  CHAPTER 60

  THE ADMISSION OF PRIESTS TO THE MONASTERY

  April 14 – Aug. 14 – Dec. 14

  If any ordained priest asks to be received into a male monastery, do not agree too quickly. However, if he is fully persistent in his request, he must recognize that he will have to observe the full discipline of the rule without any mitigation, knowing that it is written: “Friend, what have you come for?” (Matt. 26:50). He should, however, be allowed to stand next to the abbot, to give blessings, and to celebrate the Eucharist, provided that the abbot bids him. Otherwise, he must recognize that he is subject to the discipline of the rule, and not make any exceptions for himself, but rather give everyone an example of humility. Whenever there is question of an appointment or of any other business in the monastery, he takes the place that corresponds to the date of his entry into the community, and not that granted him out of respect for his priesthood.

  Any clerics who similarly wish to join the community should be ranked somewhere in the middle, but only if they, too, promise to keep the rule and observe stability.

  Benedictine life was monastic and lay, not diocesan and clerical. Its role was not to serve parishes or to develop dioceses but to create a way of life immersed in the Scriptures, devoted to the common life, and dedicated to the development of human community. It was simple, regular, and total, a way of living, not a way of serving; it was an attitude toward life, not a church ministry. Benedict, in other words, is not trying to create a clerical system. He is trying to create a human family. He is not out trying to collect priests, though he does recognize that a priest may well have a monastic vocation.

  More interesting, then, than the fact that he does not see priesthood as essential to the achievement of his vision of life is the fact that he actually seems to discourage the idea. If they come and ask to be received, “do not agree too quickly,” he cautions, and actually puts some restrictions on their membership: no elevated rank, no special attention, no official place. Why? And what can that possibly say to the rest of us now?

  Benedict knew what most of us learn sooner or later: it is hard to let go of the past, and yet, until we do, there is no hope whatsoever that we can ever gain from the future. Priests, Benedict knew, came to the monastery having already been formed in another system. They were accustomed to living a highly independent and highly catered life. They had been a world unto themselves and leaders of others. In the monastery, they would have to be formed in a whole new way of life and spirituality. They would have to defer to the presence and needs of others. They, who had given so many orders, would have to take some. They would have to begin again. It could be done but it would not be easy. The Tao Te Ching reads,

  The Master leads

  by emptying people’s minds

  and filling their cores,

  by weakening their ambition

  and toughening their resolve.

  He helps people lose everything

  they know, everything they desire,

  and creates confusion

  in those who think that they know.

  The insights are important ones for all of us. Everyone has to put down some part of their past sometime. Everyone makes a major life change at some time or other. Everyone has to be open to being formed again. The only thing that can possibly deter the new formation is if we ourselves refuse to let go of what was. If we cling to the past, the future is closed to us.

  CHAPTER 61

  THE RECEPTION OF VISITING MONASTICS

  April 15 – Aug. 15 – Dec. 15

  Visiting monastics from far away will perhaps present themselves and wish to stay as guests in the monastery. Provided that they are content with the life as they find it, and do not make excessive demands that upset the monastery, but are simply content with what they find, they should be received for as long a time as they wish. They may indeed with all humility and love make some reasonable crit
icisms or observations, which the prioress or abbot should prudently consider; it is possible that God guided them to the monastery for this very purpose.

  Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote once, “There is a meaning in every journey that is unknown to the traveler.” The Benedictine Rule presumes the fundamental truth of that. In an era when monastics from small monasteries made regular pilgrimages to the shrines of Europe, Benedictine life not only welcomed them, fed them, kept them, and accepted them as one of its own, Benedictine life opened itself to learn from them. And we can learn from that kind of radical acceptance, too. Wisdom is welcome from any direction. Our task is to open ourselves to it, to see criticism as an occasion for growth, to see the value of continued evaluation, and never to close ourselves off from challenge, even when it comes from places we don’t expect and people we don’t know.

  If after a while they wish to remain and bind themselves to stability, they should not be refused this wish, especially as there was time enough, while they were a guest, to judge their character. But if during their stay they have been found excessive in their demands or full of faults, they should certainly not be admitted as a member of the community. Instead, they should be politely told to depart, lest their ways contaminate others.

  Benedictine spirituality never requires perfection. It does, however, demand effort and openness. Complaining and complacency are the two evils that community life most abhors and can least afford. Any community, any group is poisoned by people who criticize constantly and exert themselves little. Benedict warns against them both here. “Don’t keep them,” he insists. Better to do with fewer and do the life well than to swell the numbers of a group with what will eventually corrode it. It is a hard lesson in a culture that measures its success in numbers.