Perfect Strangers



St. Joseph Abbey Church
St. Benedict, Louisiana

 Let me begin with these beautifully personal words of St. Augustine which, though written in the 3^rd century, speak to each one of us as humans who share in the common experience of longing for God, something much larger than what we merely see around us: I implore you to live with me and, by believing, to run with me; let us long for our heavenly country, let us sigh for our heavenly home, let us truly feel that here we are strangers.  It is fitting that as another liturgical year comes to a close, we together as strangers celebrated the Solemnity of Christ the King during the last Sunday of Ordinary Time, recalling our very beginning and ultimate end in the Kingdom of God.  It is truly remarkable that while we are strangers, we are strangers together who, though in earthly exile, sigh for our heavenly home with one another.  In this respect, we are never strangers in the sense that we may not know one another personally, but we are strangers in that we are all unfamiliar with the physical realm we currently inhabit as we are not made for this earth.  By this common trait of ours, though we all may differ in regards to color, creed, or culture, the fact that we are on this earthly pilgrimage together means that we are all intimately bound to each other as one.

           

Christ tells us, The kingdom of God, does not come for all to see; nor shall they say: Behold, here it is, or behold, there it is, but the kingdom of God is within us, for the word of God is very near, in our mouth and in our heart.  It is very clear that by Jesus’ own teaching and followed by the living tradition of the Church, since we are all created in the image and likeness of God, the dignity we possess as creatures in the hands of our loving Creator is the same dignity bestowed on us as bearers of God, his dwelling place.  St. Teresa of Avila explains to her fellow consecrated sisters that the soul of the just person is nothing else but a paradise where the Lord says he finds his delight.  St. Teresa goes on to illustrate the interior dwelling of God within each of us as an immense castle where our soul progresses from room to room until it finds its rest in the royal chamber of our Lord and King, Jesus Christ.  This journey of our soul is indeed a way toward greater and greater perfection as the more perfect we are interiorly (i.e. the more our desires are rightly-ordered), the more inviting we become for the Spirit of God to find his rest within us.  Christ, speaking with the Father, wonderfully describes the blessedness of the faithful person with a well-ordered soul: We shall come to him and make our home with him.

But what is it to be well-ordered and prefect?  What supernatural, angelic being must we become in order to possess the entire immensity of the omnipotent Trinity within us, God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit?  No.  No, perfection is much simpler and within our reach than that, so simple in fact it must come from God himself; any complication in the matter is a mere pesky habit of human origin.  Let us understand, as St. Teresa tells us that true perfection consists in love of God and neighbor; the more perfectly we keep these two commandments, the more perfect we will be.  The simplicity of what it means to be perfect leads us to the simplicity of being perfect, which is quite simply love of God and neighbor.  By the very fact that we are not strangers with one another, in virtue of our heavenly origin, but rather brothers and sisters who journey together as strangers in a strange land, to be perfect is deeply rooted in the instinct we possess and the command we are given to love each other with the same love we have for God.

The endeavor to reach this perfection begins, as with any endeavor we undertake, with prayer.  Of all that has been written about prayer throughout the centuries, one thing remains constant: prayer is the conformity of our will with the will of God.  When writing his Rule for monks, St. Benedict instructs his brothers that every time you begin a good work, you must pray to him most earnestly to bring it to perfection. In whatever form our prayer may take, whether a group praying the rosary, a person meditating under an oak tree, a community praying together at mass, or a poor soul contemplating God while stuck in traffic, our prayer should come from and lead us toward the surrendering of our will, with all its desires, passions, wants, fears, anxieties, dreams, concerns, joys, etc., etc., into the trusting care of the God who made us, just as we pray in the prayer Jesus himself taught us: thy Kingdom come, thy Will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  Again, St. Teresa illumines this point with words more authoritative than mine: Don’t think that in what concerns perfection there is some mystery or things unknown or still to be understood, for in perfect conformity to God’s will lies all our good.

As another season of Advent draws near, let us prepare ourselves to receive the birth of our Lord, Jesus Christ interiorly, who is truly God with us.  Although we as humans are citizens of a heavenly kingdom, continuing our journey home by each passing day we are blessed with, let us make use of the time we have on earth to welcome the Kingdom of God within us, a place where God may make his dwelling.  Let us never forget our task as strangers to prepare ourselves and one other for welcoming our King who humbly comes down from his heavenly throne to walk with us, to encourage us, and to be our strength.  This is the dignity in which we are created, and so it is through this same dignity that we live, treat one another as bearers of God, and pray with all the humility Christ shows us by his birth, his life, and his death.  Be perfect with the loving simplicity of your lives brothers and sisters, and the Kingdom of God will reign within you.

St. Benedict: Ancient Voice, Forever Relevant

This time last year I was a postulant for the Benedictine monastery, Monastero de San Benedetto, in Nursia, Italy (the birthplace of St. Benedict and his twin sister St. Scholastica) for an amazing four months, beginning what would be for me a year away from diocesan seminary formation for a time of greater discernment.  As St. Benedict, along with the Rule and rich tradition he left behind, has and always will be a tremendous inspiration for my formation and ministry, and since this day (July 11th) is the day our Roman Catholic Church memorializes him, I have been given way to much reflection and reminiscing on memories past and dreams to come regarding this amazing abbot and saint.  The Rule of St. Benedict, although short in length, has inspired centuries upon centuries of countless pages written for commentary, even to this day, as remnants of Benedict's ideas can be seen between the lines of the constitutions and rules of virtually every religious community and order created since the 6th century.

What made Benedict's idea for the ideal monastery, or any community of faithful for that matter, so influential was his emphasis on moderation.  Benedict knew all too well, as St. John Cassian observed before him, that an extreme observation of life in either direction will ultimately lead to complete failure.  For example, one who eats too much will obviously slow their wits to the point of spiritual and moral numbness, however one who fasts unrealistically will eventually end up breaking down to the extreme and eating far more than they would if they ate in moderation.  The practice of submitting to and observing a community rule (i.e. being exactly like everyone else) was seen by Benedict as the ultimate form of asceticism, as it would ensure that ones own passions or desires would never come before oneself and following Christ.  This is perhaps  most suiting for our age when following one's own feelings or passions is seen as the norm; being a sheep just isn't cool anymore no matter who your Shepherd is.  In fact to make light of the rule of common observance, Australian monk Fr. Michael Casey would say that eating exactly what was placed before you in a 10th century monastery was perhaps more ascetic than not eating at all! 

Another way St. Benedict expresses his ideal for moderation can be found in the way he charges each abbot (head of a monastery) with the task of implementing the Rule in a way which is best suited for each individual monk, as well as for the monastic community as a whole.  In other words, Benedict gives all abbots the discretion to add to or take away from the Rule (anything from the schedule of weekly servers in the kitchen to the exact order of how Psalms are prayed) whatever is required for the common good of all the brothers, just as long as the essence of the Rule still remains.  As for each individual monk, the abbot is to be a caring father who can recognize when a weaker brother needs leniency just as when a stronger brother needs to be challenged further.  The embodiment of moderation and avoidance of extreme behavior in any person can be manifested in a form of gentleness, fatherly concern, and what one could call "tough love."  The abbot is seen as one who can meet brothers where they are, not placing unrealistic expectations on them or the whole community, but reaching out from where they stand.  In the end, the tremendous task of judgement and discernment on the part of the abbot is given serious consequences as the Rule states, let the Abbot always bear in mind that he must give an account in the dread judgment of God of both his own teaching and of the obedience of his disciples (Ch. 2). 

The perfect summary St. Benedict's charism comes from one line towards the end of his Rule which reads, Let them put Christ before all else; that may He lead us all to everlasting life (Ch. 72).  The entire idea of preferring nothing to the love of Christ is and always will be the perfect and surest way to Gospel living.  However Benedict does not condemn material things as Christ never did during His earthly life since it is not wealth itself which should be denied but the love of wealth; our love should only rest in Christ and loving others for love of Christ.  The truth is we need certain tools to work, because just as the motto for Benedictines is Ora et Labora, or Pray and Work, you cannot accomplish much work without the use of tools.  I believe Pope St. Gregory the Great, perhaps Benedict's greatest admirer who's Dialogues provide us with the life story of St. Benedict, said it perfectly in one of his homilies: Whatever you possess must not possess you; whatever you own must be under the power of your soul; for if your soul is overpowered by the love of this world's goods, it will be totally at the mercy of its possessions...we make us of the temporal things, but our hearts are set on what is eternal.  Temporal goods help us on our way, but our desire must be for those eternal realities which are our goal (Book 2, Homily 36).

But certainly this way of life is nothing new and Benedict would be the first to make that claim since it was St. Paul who testified, I have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ.  For His sake I have forfeited everything; I have accounted all else as rubbish so that Christ may be my wealth and I may be in Him (Philippians 3:8).  To let nothing of the earth take possession of ourselves nor drive our desires and passions, along with the practice of moderation, is ultimately an issue for the department of humility.  Humility is a word which most basically means lowliness, since it comes from the Latin humus, or "of the earth."  The challenge to live humbly is no contemporary issue, as it wasn't for Benedict before us nor for Christ when he constantly combated the lofty images His own disciples would conjure up on the false earthly power of what they thought a messiah should inherit.  The goal of this kind of humility, to come down to a lowliness which places us in the essence of who we really are, that is creatures in the hands of a loving Creator, is and always should be so that we may more readily and ably follow Christ.  St. Gregory nails it again when he gives the sole purpose of all ascetic practices: No carnal pleasure, no worldy curiousity, no surge of ambition must keep us from the Lord's Supper (Homily 36 cont.). 

When I think of humility in terms of lowliness as low as the earth itself, I am sent beyond myself and placed within a cave in Subiaco, Italy.  It was here that St. Benedict first fled from his worldly studies in Rome and consequently all worldly ambitions.  He spent three years of his young adult life in this cave in incessant prayer before God, learning from Him in the silence of solitude and contemplation exactly what was his to do with the life he was given.  This cave is dark, damp, and musky; the only peace and consolation one could ever be given in such a hole is that from God Himself.  Eventually, local shepherds and towns folk flocked to receive words of wisdom from him, and soon after, men seeking a monastic way of life came before him in order to be placed under his direction as their abbot.  Monasteries were built, the Rule was written, the rest is history.  However, observing the Rule is not the end, but only a beginning: now, we have written this Rule that, observing it in monasteries, we may show that we have acquired at least some moral righteousness, or a beginning of the monastic life (Ch. 73).