The Feast of Saint Benedict, July 11, 2025

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Josep Martinez-Cubero

The Feast of Saint Benedict, July 11, 2025

Proverbs 2:1-10      

Acts 2:42-47      

Luke 14:27-33

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Today we celebrate the feast of Saint Benedict, the father of Western monasticism, who is most known for his rule, “The Rule of Saint Benedict”. Most of what we know about him comes from the second book of the Dialogues of Pope Gregory the Great. The literary genre of The Dialogues was widespread in the middle ages and called “Exemplum” (example or model). These were short stories often using reworked biblical passages and other stories to convey certain truths about the protagonist’s virtues as a way of teaching and motivating. Reading The Life and Miracles of Saint Benedict with our postmodern minds renders it absolutely useless. But a careful reading that digs deeply and creates a metaphorical interpretation can give meaning to our spiritual journey by showing us Benedict the human. Benedict was not born our holy father Benedict. He was a human being who was vulnerable, broken, and weak. He went through periods of temptation, challenges, growth, development, and also setbacks. His was a journey that serves as a model of these periods in our own lives.

Benedict was born around 480 AD to a noble family in Nursia, Italy. He seems to have been deeply religious from an early age. Having completed his primary studies, he was sent to Rome to study, presumably by a demanding father with very strong expectations that he would acquire a good education. His mother, good noble mother that she was, sent him with his childhood nurse as his servant. In Rome, however, Benedict found all manner of moral corruption and excess living and was turned off by it. Was this unique to Rome at a specific time in history? Certainly not. We all live in a world that’s godless and full of moral corruption. Just turn on the news and hear about the last presidential executive order, or the last bill passed by congress to give the very rich more money while so many can’t make ends meet and others suffer hunger, in such a wealthy country. Absolute moral degradation.

And as is often the case, it is this disheartening experience that occasions Benedict’s monastic vocation and the process of detachment necessary to gain self-knowledge and seek God alone. To do so honestly means he has to let go of family expectations and the financial security that comes with it. He renounces his father’s inheritance and begins a vulnerable stage in his life, mostly. He still has his nurse, who goes with him when he decides to leave Rome and travel to Affile, at the foot of a mountain. After some time and a series of events it is clear the nurse represents a maternal attachment of which Benedict decides he needs to let go. But instead of courageously facing his nurse and telling her he needs to be without her, he secretly escapes to Subiaco, about 10 miles away, and leaves her there alone. Not very nice, Benny! So, we are beginning to see a bit of a pattern here. First fleeing from the city and his family, and now secretly fleeing from his childhood nurse. But in God’s economy everything is put to good use. If we are sincere about our desire to live in God’s Reign, God will transform our shortcomings and weakness of character. Benedict will eventually come to champion the practice of stability as a spiritual discipline that fosters inner strength, resilience, not running away, but staying put and facing the challenges and joys of life by relying on God's grace and presence, even in the midst of difficulties.

In Subiaco, he lives in a cave as a hermit for three years, very much in the manner of a tradition he would have been very familiar with- that of the desert elders of Egypt, Palestine and Syria. Romanus, a monk from a nearby monastery, meets him on the way, hears about his desire, clothes him in the habit and serves as his formator, sometimes even breaking the rules of his own monastery, as we formators are known to do at times, in order to provide his novice what he needs. From his monastery, which was at a higher altitude than Benedict’s cave, he would tie some bread for food, and a little bell to the end of a long rope and lower it over the cliff. The little bell would let Benedict know when the bread was there without interrupting his solitude.

The story tells us that one day, as the bread was being lowered, the “ancient enemy of humankind,” threw a stone at the bell and broke it. Who is this “ancient enemy of humankind”? The most obvious answer would be the devil! But Benedict went to a cave to acquire self-knowledge and to do that he has to confront his own demons. The demons most commonly encountered at the beginning of monastic life tend to be those of rigidity, extremism, and control, and they can lead us to anger, self-absorption and the illusion that we need no help from anyone, because, well, leave me alone. I know what I know, and I know what I think is right. Benedict is his own enemy of humankind.

But face his demons Benedict did. He struggled with loneliness, and temptation, and after giving in to the persuasion of an entire community of monks who begged him to be their abbot after their abbot had died, his very severe leadership almost got him killed. They tried to poison him. Not to excuse the behavior of those crazy monks- very bad! Bad monks! But this and other stories show us a fallible human being who through perseverance came to be known as truly holy.

Benedict founded twelve monasteries in Subiaco before moving southward to Monte Cassino, where he built a bigger monastery and wrote his Rule. After his years of solitude, he had renewed his contacts with the Roman clergy and scholars and had access to all the main Christian monastic texts written before him. Benedict’s Rule is heavily influenced by the writings of John Cassian, another monk before his time, who is noted for his role in bringing the ideas and practices of Christian monasticism from the East to the early medieval West. The Rule also shows to have been mostly the editing and reworking of an earlier and very severe monastic rule called “The Rule of the Master”. 

What Benedict adds, omits, rearranges, and revises from The Rule of the Master shows a remarkable mastery of right measure, and discretion. The Rule says we should eat, but not too much. We can drink but not too much. We have to sleep, but not too much. You must work, but not too much. Benedict even regulates the times for prayer, so there has to be an end, and then you work or study. More than a systematic collection of regulations, the Rule of Saint Benedict is more about how to live in community in the love of Christ so that all are treated equally as beloved children of God. It is a reflection steeped in Scripture that guides us through a human journey into the heart of God. It calls for a community where all have the same access to books for their learning; a community where all are offered the same adequate amount of food and drink; a community where all have a voice, even the newest members. It sadly sounds like an ideal that could make many political and religious leaders of our day very uncomfortable. 

The longest chapter of Benedict’s Rule is on the subject of humility- quite a countercultural concept in today’s world where self-promotion and competition are so praised, a sense of entitlement seems to reign supreme. But true humility is not weakness, but a sign of strength, self-awareness, and openness to growth. It requires radical self-honesty, and a total acceptance of who we are with all our unchangeable past, our strengths, weaknesses, successes, and failures. It requires that we surrender and learn to love those parts about ourselves that we think of as unlovable so that our capacity to love can widen. The humble is able to respect the dignity of every human being because the humble knows we are all in need of mercy daily. The humble knows that calling out evil is an act of love, but we must do so without engaging in verbal or social violence. It is only through humility that we can ground ourselves in our true identity as people who are called to overcome evil with good.

The Benedictine call then is to inner transformation and deeper relationship with God. It’s a call to move beyond the superficial to becoming more and more sober so we can see what really is, and approach life with balance, mindfulness, and awareness of our actions and their impact on others. We do this in community, working, praying, obeying, rejoicing, and every day trying again to mirror Jesus’ own life and teachings. And we do it with the confidence that God, who shatters our expectations, and surpasses our understanding, only desires for us to evolve into the fullness of the image in which we are made. Our Holy Father Benedict, pray for us. ¡Que así sea en el nombre del Padre y del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo! ~Amen+

St. Benedict - July 10, 2022

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Robert Leo Sevensky, OHC

Saint Benedict - July 10, 2022

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Today we are celebrating the feast of Saint Benedict, father of Western monasticism. As a Benedictine monastic community, we count this as one of our great festivals. But it is also a festival that Christians everywhere can join in celebrating, for the tradition that flows through and from St. Benedict has shaped our world, and largely for the better, for fifteen centuries. And the popular rediscovery of St. Benedict over the last 50 years or so--a popularity which flows from the writings of both monastics and non-monastics alike and especially from Anglican lay women such as Esther de Waal and Kathleen Norris--has been a gift to the whole church and the entire world. We celebrate Saint Benedict who lived in the late 5 th and early 6th century in northern Italy. But truthfully, we don't know all that much about him. Pope Gregory the Great wrote an account of Benedict’s life some fifty years after Benedict died, though it's generally agreed that, as Rowan Williams put it: “...it is largely pious guesswork stringing together a few traditions preserved in some central Italian monasteries.” Even Gregory himself acknowledges that his sketch of the life of Benedict is woefully incomplete. Towards the end of this brief work he says: “He [Benedict] wrote a Rule for monks, a work outstanding in good judgment and clearly expressed. Whoever may wish to have a fuller understanding of his character and his life can find all the acts of his administration in this Book of the Rule. For that saint was incapable of teaching a way of life that he did not practice.” Yet even the Holy Rule of Saint Benedict, so influential as a guide for wise and balanced living, is itself not entirely original. Modern scholars have pretty much reached the consensus that Benedict's Rule is largely a reworking of an older and longer monastic rule commonly referred to as the Rule of the Master. If we're to learn anything about the man Saint Benedict from his Rule, we need to look at what he retained of that earlier rule, what he eliminated, and what he changed or nuanced. There are scholars who have made their whole professional career the analysis of this process. Over my 36 years in the monastic life, I have given any number of talks or retreats on the Rule of Saint Benedict and on Benedictine spirituality generally. I've often organized them around particular catch phrases or popular summaries of both the rule and the tradition. For example, one approach might be to focus on the interconnected Benedictine vows of stability, obedience, and conversion of life. Or there is the Latin tag ora et labora, that is, pray and work. And though popular—you can find a stone at our guesthouse door engraved with these words—it's a fairly incomplete description of the Benedictine vision without such things as study and leisure and the communal life. Finally, there is simply the Latin word for peace—Pax—often inscribed over the entry to monastic cloisters. Benedictine peace comes close in meaning to the Hebrew Shalom, pointing to a way life that is at once balanced and open, seeking the well-being not only of the individual and the community, but that of the whole world. As useful as these capsule summaries may be, I must admit that I now find them a bit tired. But recently I came across another stab at this approach offered by the Oxford historian Henry Mayr-Harting and quoted by Rowan Williams in the introductory essay of his book The Way of Saint Benedict (2020). Commenting on Benedictine spirituality or holiness, Mayr-Harting, who was educated by English Benedictines from his youth, observes: “There are three phrases by which I would sum up Benedictine holiness: completely undemonstrative, deeply conventual, and lacking any system of expertise.” Let’s have a look. First, Benedictine life, Benedictine spirituality or holiness is, Mayr-Harting says, completely undemonstrative. And that is to say that, at its best, it is a quiet kind of Christian living: nothing flashy, no headlines, no greatest hits or celebrities. Maybe the most demonstrative aspect of Benedictine life is the restrained way in which it celebrates the Christian liturgies. If it is to demonstrate anything at all, the Benedictine vision holds out to us the possibility of people dwelling together in unity, as the psalmist would have it. It is life lived day by day with humility and intentionality and faithfulness and patience and very often, hard work. Second as Mayr-Harting says, Benedictine spirituality or holiness is deeply conventual. Not conventional, but conventual. Which is to say it is life lived with others. Just as one can't be a Christian on one's own, neither can one be a Benedictine on one’s own. While Benedict's rule makes a place for the hermit or eremitical life at a late stage of the monastic journey, it is only for those few who are called to it. The preponderance of emphasis is on life together day by day, year by year with, if not exactly the same people, at least the same cast of characters who will simply not go away. St. Benedict describes the monastery as a workshop. And Rowan Williams says that what is made and formed in that workshop are souls or holy lives. Each of us is called to some kind of monastery, some circumscribed setting where commitment and fidelity and mutuality and the painful/joyful process of growth can happen. Call it what you will: community, family, friendship, work, parish, neighborhood, the country, and on and on. These are all workshops where souls or holy lives are shaped and formed. What perhaps distinguishes the traditional monastery from these other workshops is that it is, if you will, a kind of intensive care unit for souls like me. Finally, Mayr-Harting says (surprisingly!) that Benedictine holiness or spirituality lacks any system of expertise. Surely that can't be right, can it? Isn't the entire Rule a handbook of monastic expertise? In fact, it's not. It is rather, as the author himself says, a little rule for beginners. There are no experts in this, though there some who have been at it for decades. They may have some experience under their belts, they may see a little more clearly the promises as well as the pitfalls, but they are hardly experts. If there is any sense of expertise in this way of life it lies in the recognition of how far we each have yet to go and how often we have missed the path or strayed from it. Every day a new beginning, says one writer…just like AA. No, there's no exotic set of spiritual practices which, if followed faithfully, is guaranteed to produce the desired result. There’s no form of personal prayer or meditation that is peculiarly Benedictine, though being formed by the round of daily prayer services—the Opus Dei—may come close. There's no guru or staretz in our tradition, though there are perhaps writers or scholars who speak to our condition. And in fact we each tend to find one or another person who seems to be just a little bit farther along on the journey, and we may seek their advice or counsel or their companionship. But the bottom line is that we're all in this together and nobody has all the answers. We're all in this together. For me this is the great take home lesson from Saint Benedict. He ends his Rule by speaking of the good zeal of monks and concludes with these words: “Let them prefer nothing whatever to Christ, and may he bring us all together to everlasting life.” (RB 72:11-12) All together! Beloved, this is not a competition or a race in which one of us gets to the goal first or at least finishes among the medal winners. No, this is more a pilgrimage. And if you've ever been on a pilgrimage, you know that the idea is not to get there first (wherever there might be). The goal is to get there together. In this fractured and divided world and nation of ours, in our divided and suspicious churches, in groups and families at enmity and strife we desperately need to hear this and take it to heart. Benedict’s vision is for today. And if monasticism has anything to offer to the contemporary world, it may be to model, however imperfectly, a diverse community of ordinary people living together in fragile unity and Christian hope and holy love. We are all in this together. Aided by the prayers and teaching of our holy Father Benedict, may the good Lord bring us and our world all together to everlasting life. May it be so.

Feast of Saint Benedict - July 11, 2021

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Robert Magliula, OHC

Feast of St Benedict - Sunday, July 11, 2021

Proverbs 2:1-10

Philippians 2:12-16

Luke 17:27-33 

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Historical facts about Benedict are limited. It’s his Rule which tells us about him and his priorities. He crafted it out of his own long experience and drawing from an already well-established stream of wisdom that came out of the deserts of Egypt and Syria. His Rule offers more a way of life than a set of regulations. There is no systematic theology, but a logic of daily life lived in Christ in community. He’s concerned with a whole and holy life: what it's about, what it demands, how to live it well. He shaped the Rule into a massive, stable container, which has been the foundation of Christian monasticism and monastic practice in the West for over 1,500 years. Although written for monastics in community, its wisdom applies to all humans in community. The more I study the Rule and try to live it, the greater my appreciation of the genius and experience of this man.

In the turbulent and brutal times of the 5th century, Benedict knew the shortness of life. To get the most out of it, he calls us to live it in the now. For Benedict, the spiritual life is not a collection of spiritual practices but a way of being in the world that is open to God and others. He warns us about going through life only half conscious or intent on being some place other than where we are. He exhorts us to open our eyes and see things as they exist around us and in us. See what enriches and what does not, what is of God and what is not. To live well with others is to live in God with our eye and ear to the Gospel. We are so often trapped in the past, angry at what formed us, or fixated on a future that is free from pain and under our control. God is in our present, he tells us, waiting for us now. 

Benedict knew human nature enough to know that people can't be bullied into growth. No one grows by simply doing what someone else forces them to do. He describes the monastic community as a workshop. Most of the 72 tools listed in Chapter 4 of the Rule have to do with the virtues necessary to maintain stability as the context for growth. Benedict envisions wholeness and holiness as a set of habits. For him, holiness is inseparable from the common life. The product of the workshop is people who are present. People who have the skills to diagnose everything inside them that prompts them to escape from themselves and others in the here and now. Monastic life offers a discipline for being where we are, rather than taking refuge in the smallness of our fantasies. Monastic life lived well should wean us off self-serving fictions. These tools of good works are simply tools for becoming fully human. 

At the end of Chapter 4 he says that the workshop is the stability of the community. The promise to live in stability is the most drastic way imaginable of recognizing the otherness of others. A great deal of our politics, our ecclesiastical life, and our personal life is dominated by the assumption that everything would be alright if only some people would go away.  In asking what it takes to develop people who can live stably together, Benedict maps out an environment where long term contact will not breed bitterness, cynicism, and fear of openness. He knew that no human community, including a monastery, is immune to disagreements and power struggles. Benedict wants his community to be an environment of transparency, peace, and accountability. The heart of the challenge is how do we live with otherness honestly, peacefully, and responsibly. 

In or out of a monastery, if one is to thrive in relationship, they must be transparent, at peace, and accountable. To become transparent, we must first confront the uncomfortable fact that we are not naturally and instantly at peace with everyone. In our vow as monks, we promise that we will not hide from each other and that there will be times we will help each other to not hide from ourselves. Without that promise, the ego’s agenda will reign. 

We  alsodepend on one another to tell the truth. Benedict advises that we open our heart to a spiritual elder so that the chains of fantasy and self-understanding that are primarily self-serving can be short circuited before they take over. It’s crucial to expose rather than to become enthralled by them. It’s about understanding the truth of our mortal, fallible nature. 

Because we need to know that the basis of a shared life is not a matter of constant and insecure negotiation with others. Benedict emphasizes peace and warns not to give what he calls “a false peace.” This is failing to face conflict, to admit the brokenness of our togetherness by making little of it, ignoring it, denying it, or seeking a resolution that makes one feel secure without healing the breach. He links the risks of false peace with warnings about anger and resentment, recognizing that they can coexist with and reinforce a refusal to name conflict. Anything we practice, we become better at. If we practice anger, we’ll have more anger. If we practice fear, we’ll have more fear. If we practice peace, we will have more peace. Change occurs by noticing what’s no longer working and stepping out of familiar, imprisoning patterns. Agitation drives out peace and consciousness of God. When we are driven by agitation, consumed by fretting, we become immersed in our own agenda which is always distorted and exaggerated. Seeking God and our own wholeness demands a degree of inner and outer peace.

We also need to be accountable, to know who is responsible for what and how that responsibility works. The only status that matters in the monastery is that of seniority---how long a monk has practiced stability. But seniority is not the only ground for insight. To discern how to draw on the depth of experience and how to avoid that experience just becoming self-confirming and self-perpetuating over the years, Benedict advocates mutual obedience. Novice and senior are obeying one another if they are attending to one another with habits that shape their lives by listening, attention, and the willingness to take seriously the perspective of the other.

Like all Christians, the follower of Benedict, struggles to live honestly and openly, with their inner life manifest to those to whom they have promised fidelity, making peace by addressing the roots of conflict within themselves and the community, and contributing their distinctive gifts to create hope. An obligation to human community and a dependence on God are the cornerstones of life according to Benedict. Today we ask our holy Father Benedict to increase in us the desire and passion for both. 

+Amen.

The feast of St. Benedict - July 11, 2020

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Luc Thuku, OHC

St Benedict - Saturday, July 11, 2020

Proverbs 2:1-9

Philippians 2:12–16

Luke 14:27–33

Psalm 119:129–136

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When animals still had the ability to speak, in the African jungle, a story is told of an encounter between a tortoise and a lion. They met one afternoon as both were hustling for food. The lion told the tortoise “you know I am going to eat you!” The tortoise was puzzled because ordinarily, tortoises are not usually on the lions’ menu but the lion repeated once again...”  I am telling you that today I am going to eat you!” As you might know, the tortoise is the third slowest animal after the snail and the chameleon and so there was no way the tortoise would escape. The tortoise pondered the news for a moment and then told the lion.” I have no problem with you eating me but before you do, please give me five minutes”.

The lion agreed and then the tortoise started moving in circles round a reasonably well sized area. The tortoise made the grass in the area flat and some got uprooted. After he finished, he told the lion “now you can eat me”. It was now the lion’s turn to be puzzled and he asked the tortoise “what were you doing”. The tortoise told the lion “what I was doing was to leave a mark so that those who pass by here will know that though you ate me, there was a struggle. That mark will indicate that there was a struggle and that I was not an easy meal for you!” ...We shall come back to this in a moment...

Today we are celebrating the feast of St. Benedict, a law giver, a spiritual master and father of numerous monks and nuns to whom western civilization owes its survival during the so called dark ages and that earned him the title of the patron of Europe. Benedict was not an academician, he was not a great missionary or a renown preacher like the apostles or the early church fathers before him. He was not a dramatic follower of the gospel like Francis of Assisi (who shed his clothing in public at his conversion) and numerous others after him. He was just an ordinary monk, doing ordinary things that monks do.

 How then, you may ask, did a simple monk who spent most of his life enclosed in a monastery earn the title ‘Patron of Europe’? The answer to that lies in the rule he wrote for himself and his followers, all summarized up in the opening statement… ”Listen carefully my son to the master’s instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart. This is advice from a father who loves, welcome it and faithfully put it into practice”. The Master Benedict is speaking about here is our God and father who loves us through our Lord Jesus Christ and who so cares for us, as to give us nuggets of wisdom to live by so that we can get closer to him in this life and attain eternal happiness with him when all is reunited with him.

These nuggets of wisdom come to us this morning in the portion of the book of Proverbs that we heard in our first reading. Proverbs are simple and clear guidelines that are easy to follow if one chooses to, for instance, the road sign that tells you No Left Turn. You can still turn left but you would be very unwise because the consequences of doing so could be fatal not only to you but to others as well. There is a keyword in today's first reading that helps us to understand it. The word is IF.

If you accept my word, if you treasure my commandments, if you make your ear attentive to wisdom, if you incline your heart to understanding, if you cry out for (insight)or discernment, if you look for it as if it was silver, if you set your store by the commandements, my son if you take my words to heart. IF, IF, IF…. and what does IF imply? It implies a choice, an invitation by God, a commandment, but we have to exercise freedom. We have to choose to enter into the journey of doing the will of God. IF you do A, B will happen and of course IF you don't do A, C will happen. Every choice as we well know has a consequence. The rule of Benedict is a book of IF’s but the first word as already mentioned is LISTEN.

Listen to the word of God, listen to his commandments, listen to wisdom, to proverbs, to the teaching of saints, to you superiors, to your conscience, to the truth. Be open and listen before you speak. God will speak to you if you listen. God will make himself known to you if you slow down, God will make his presence felt if we are humble, God will show himself to us if we pray. We have to take God's word to heart, set store by his commandments, turn our ear to wisdom, apply our heart to truth, cry out for discernment and understanding, and only then will we understand what the fear of the Lord is and discover the knowledge of God.

The knowledge of God comes if we turn to God and open our hearts to seek him. If we go back to our lion and tortoise story, the Moral of that story is that we should leave a mark in whatever we do and more so as Christians. Benedict Listened to his conscience and to the word of God and withdrew to the wilderness of Subiaco and later to Monte Cassino and by his way of life and the rule that he left for monastics left a mark in the world. Like the tortoise in our story that had set out to search for food and not death, Benedict never set out to leave a mark or to make himself famous. He simply converted his way of life to listen and follow God and went about living his conversion and conviction.

People listening to the truth of the word of God have been a great wisdom of the faith and a light in darkness for civilizations since the time of Jesus, hence leaving their mark as people of faith. Benedictine monks and nuns have kept the faith alive and civilizations alive throughout the centuries and by so doing left a mark. We too are called to leave a mark as followers of Christ through the example of our spiritual father St. Benedict. We should strive to make our monasteries, especially Holy Cross Monastery, not just good places to visit but power houses of prayer and light in darkness.

The same applies to those of us in parishes and in our homes. Our parishes and Christian homes should be beacons of light, islands of peace and tranquility, of love and of hope. We are called as Christians and as monastics to leave our mark because christian living is not always bread and butter but a life of struggle with sin, with our ego, with the devil.

The golden question this morning is When you and I die, what mark will we leave? St. Paul in the Second reading we heard from the Letter to the Philippians urges us to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling for it is God who is at work in us, enabling us to will and to work for His good pleasure! Paul also cautions us against murmuring and arguing, something Benedict counsels us to be vigilant about, time and again in his rule! Only then can we be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation in which we shine like stars in the world!

Paul in our reading today is simply telling us that before we even think of leaving a mark when we are dead, we ought to be shining like stars already! We are truly living as Christians in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation made worse by the inaction or false doctrines and teachings from those who call themselves Christians! Our present moment is characterised by the darkness of racism and hate perpetuated or given theological backing by some so called conservative Christians in the midst of a disease of pandemic proportions.

The present moment is indeed the dark ages of the 21st century! Let us turn to St. Benedict and ask him to pray with us for this country and indeed for the whole world as we try to understand what our purpose is. It is the Light of Christ that has formed us and wisdom of the gospel that has sustained us and it is only that light that will get us out of this present darkness. St. Benedict urges us to listen and therefore before we come to any solutions or before our sly politicians come up with any more clever ideas, let us pray for ourselves and for them that they may listen. That they may listen to the wisdom of God found in his word so that the light of the Gospel may shine in this land and throughout the entire world. Amen

Feast of St. Benedict - Thursday, July 11, 2019

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Randy Greve, OHC
Feast of St. Benedict - Thursday, July 11, 2019

Proverbs 2:1-9
Philippians 2:12–16
Luke 14:27–33

Click here for an audio version of the sermon.

The beginning and the end of Jesus’ words here, taking up the cross and following and then giving up possessions, form the theological source of two great themes integral to monastic life.  St. Benedict emphasizes both of these practices in the rule, especially the necessity of humility and the prohibitions against private ownership.  St. Benedict does not believe, as is sometimes the critique, that thinking rightly of ourselves is wrong or that material goods are evil.  Rather, these practices are set within the larger vision in the rule of running toward life, toward our heavenly home, and therefore of necessity away from the illusions of status and security that claim our identity and distort that path.  For Benedict, entrance into the Christian journey in a monastic vocation is a move from an old life based on hierarchy and power to a life of self-sacrificial service and identification with a community.  A particular kind of community that has transcended the empire-based dynamic of oppressor over oppressed and has chosen to live in egalitarian brotherhood.  The only identity that matters in the monastery is brother.  The connection between this gospel and the rule is fairly obvious in these two sayings – they become in Benedict’s hands related to obedience and stability.  Jesus’ images in the middle, of estimating to build a tower and considering battle, inform Benedict’s theology of discernment and formation and are closely related to the vow of conversion.  I would like to dig down into the way in which the inclusion of these two metaphors within the discussion of discipleship illumines life in a community and under a rule.

Early in Jesus’ ministry, his simple call to follow him is a stage of exploration and testing.  There are hints in the synoptic gospels made explicit in the Gospel of John that not everyone who began to follow kept following to the end.  Time goes on and the nature of discipleship unfolds.  The radicality of what was asked turned many off of Jesus.  As the gospels progress, Jesus is more and more explicit about the need to move from exploration to commitment.  He is more interested in people following him with conscious intention and fidelity than with large crowds of spectators merely waiting to see a miracle.  As Luke points Jesus toward Jerusalem and the climactic showdown that leads to his crucifixion, the stakes get higher, the conditions more radical, and the urgency of allegiance absolute.  In these middle chapters of his gospel, Luke alternates between encounters and parables of God’s mercy toward the sinful and outcast and sharp criticism of those whose allegiance to prejudice and power to the exclusion of the neediest has hardened their hearts and frozen their compassion.  The disciple is to be a free person; free of family obligations, free of possessions, free of agenda, free to offer their whole selves and enter into a way that resists the ways of empire.  The first blushes of excitement and wonder must give way to the reality of the cost of discipleship.  Between today and the ultimate, joyful assurance of God’s reign in the end will be suffering.  The disciples come to see that Jesus is more than a typical rabbi, more than a miracle worker, but one who will model self-giving even unto death and ask disciples to be willing to follow in those steps in commitment if not in actuality.

The images of building and battle come in the form of rhetorical questions.  Jesus likes to pair together what we can read as the allegory of the foundation of our lives and our response to all that seeks to thwart and undermine life.  Obviously, Jesus is saying, considering and determining are called for before entering into a complex and risky project such as the construction of a watchtower or a battle against a formidable enemy.  Just as there is prudent discernment in such temporal acts, how much more must there be in the eternal decision to become a disciple.  If we are careful and realistic in our earthly pursuits of our goals, how much more must we be with our souls?  Jesus is not interested in sneaking in some fine print at the end of your disciple contract.  He is utterly transparent and honest in his conditions.  He simply wants the potential disciple to be as transparent and honest in their answer.

I have known people who liked the idea of being a disciple, who wanted the benefits of all that God promises, certainly wanted to go to heaven, but were not so interested in the formation between here and heaven, especially if it is costly (and it is always costly).  “I tried religion but it did not work for me”.  Usually the “did not work” is code for “it was not instant and easy.”  I can empathize with the impulse to jump from plan to completion.  Once I set my face toward a project, once I see the value, that it is possible, that I want it, then I just want it to be done – now.  The spiritual smoothing of my rough edges between the intent and the completion – the formation of patience, fortitude, endurance, and hope that inevitably needs to happen - seems like a frustrating waste of time.  Show me some results and let me show off my success.  How often I start doing just to be doing something or rush into the adrenaline-thrill of battle long before I have thought through what exactly is going to happen or even entertained the vague notion that my fantasy, however real it seemed when I started, was not rational at all, and suddenly I have run out of spiritual materials to keep going or I am being trampled by the enemy of my own stubborn agenda.  It turns out the teachable moments, the processes between here and heaven are important and unavoidable.

Conversion is about sitting down and considering and determining our lives first.  What I am I thinking about, talking about, doing, and to what end – where does this path go?  Before construction begins, before the battle is engaged, we need clarity.  We need an honest assessment.  The nurturing of our intent which is the energy to continue on the path of conversion, is the essential precursor to faithful action.  Following Jesus is not whatever I decide it to be.  Being a disciple is not following the Jesus I want.  It is a long, slow look at who he is and what is being asked of me.  The possibility for delusion is great, but the light of truth is greater.  Sometimes what I discover is I am on a journey on my terms, giving parts of myself, following a made-up Jesus and am headed into the abyss of resentment and loneliness.  To sit down and consider and determine is to discover that my plan cannot work.  The tower will fall, I will lose the battle.  Better an honest “no” than a conditional or qualified “yes”.  An honest “no” is good – it has possibility and hope for renewed conversion if I am willing to start afresh.

Because we are an action-obsessed culture, much of what is defined as Christian life is talking, going, and doing.  That is all well and good and Jesus likes that, but here he says, “sit down”.  Sitting down with honesty, clarity, and decisiveness leads to action that is wise and fruitful.  In a sense, Jesus is describing our whole lives and vocations, the big picture between plan and completion is my life and every day is a participation in the rhythm of discernment and engagement.  Today is building on the “yes” of my commitment and moving toward the end when the construction is over, the sounds of battle stilled, and I give my life back to God.  The moments, the opportunities, the encounters between here and heaven are sacred elements in the foundation of my life and my opposition to all that would sabotage that life.  They may seem trivial, mundane, ordinary, unseen, unexciting – but these middle bits between the excitement of beginning and the graduation into the next life are, for Jesus and Benedict, the very things that reveal my desire, expose my illusions, and clarify my intention.  Nothing is wasted, nothing is unimportant, no moment is separate from the potential to intent today the life I want for the rest of my journey.

We do not know all that entering into this journey will ask of us.  We cannot determine at the beginning how it will unfold.  But we can discern our intent, our desire, our commitment to keep asking.  Jesus is not expecting us to predict the future, but he is asking us to step into the unknown and meet him, already there and waiting, with the grace we need to welcome the gifts and trials that life will bring along the way, toward life and peace, along the run to our heavenly home. Amen.

The Feast of St. Benedict: Preached at Saint John’s in the Village, NYC Sunday, July 15, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Josép R. Martínez-Cubero, OHC
The Feast of St. Benedict- Sunday, July 15, 2018

To hear the sermon in its fullness click here.

Br. Josép Martínez-Cubero, OHC 

Most of what we know about Saint Benedict of Nursia comes from the Dialogues of Pope Gregory the Great, written about sixty years after Benedict’s death. This work is a combination of biographical sketch and miracle stories, but there are things in it that we can receive as factual. Benedict was born around the year 480, in central Italy, to a noble family. He was educated in Rome, studying rhetoric and law, but was turned off by the excesses of the Roman society of the time. 

So Benedict decided to abandon the life in which he had been brought up, and taking his childhood nurse, traveled about 40 miles to Affide, a community at the foot of a mountain. He found a mentor named Romanus, a monk in a nearby monastery, who encouraged him to become a hermit. And so, Benedict lived as a hermit for three years, embracing prayer, silence, and solitude. During and after that time, stories of his miracles spread, and a community grew around him. He eventually founded twelve communities of monks in Subiaco, Lazio, Italy each with their own abbot, before moving to Monte Casino in the mountains of Italy where he lived in a thirteenth monastery as abbot with a few select brothers.

Benedict’s main achievement is a document he seems to have prepared throughout the duration of his life containing precepts for his monks, and which today is known as the Rule of Saint Benedict. The document is heavily influenced by the writings of John Cassian, another Christian monk before his time, who is noted for his role in bringing the ideas and practices of Christian monasticism to the early medieval West. The Rule of Saint Benedict also shows to have been the editing and reworking of an earlier and very severe monastic rule called “The Rule of the Master. It is the only piece of Benedict’s writing we have, but what he adds, omits, rearranges, and revises from The Rule of the Master tells us more about him than any legend surrounding his life.

A rule is essentially a code of practice and discipline. Since the beginning of time, rules and laws have been important in the way faithful people live their lives. Some rules delineate a code of justice thought to be pleasing to God. There is no need to figure out what is right or wrong but what the rule says and follow it because it pleases God. Other rules define how to live in community in a code of holiness. The aim with these kinds of rules is that all should be treated equally as beloved children of God. This way of living requires constant prayer and discernment, and it is, at times, messy business. So is the Rule of Saint Benedict, which can be an unappealing document for anyone who is looking for a fixed set of regulations.
 
Benedict’s Rule is a reflection steeped in Scripture that describes a way to live in community so that the Reign of God can be manifested. It is a human journey into the heart of God. It called for a community where all had the same access to books for their education; a community where all ate the same adequate amount of food and drink; a community where all had a voice, even the newest members. It sadly sounds like an ideal that could make many political and religious leaders of our day very uncomfortable.
 
I come to you today from Holy Cross Monastery in West Park, NY. It is one of the houses of The Order of the Holy Cross, an international Benedictine order of men in the Anglican Communion. At West Park, we are a multigenerational and diverse community of eighteen men. Among other things, I serve my community as the Director of Associates of Holy Cross, 415 men, and women who we support, and who support us in all our ministries. The Associates of Holy Cross is what in other Benedictine communities is called Oblate Program. 

Oblates are Christians who desire to live out their Baptismal Covenant in association with a monastic order, and inspired by Benedict's Rule. Associates of Holy Cross are not only recipients of our blessings, but are also a source of blessings and help for our monastery. I share this with you today because we monks are flawed human beings, just as anyone else, but who have made the radical (and awesome!) choice to live in a monastery. But our associates are deacons, and priests and bishops, yes, but also students, doctors, housewives, carpenters, accountants, teachers, musicians, lawyers, grandparents, single mothers and single fathers, partnered or married parents, and the list goes on and on! Our associates are from all walks of life, and from around the world. In their association with us, our three-fold monastic vow of obedience, stability, and conversion of life becomes the three principles by which they center their lives. So I want to share with you a few thoughts about each of these three principles.
 
Obedience is not a particularly popular word today, and in fact, can be thought of, if misunderstood, as potentially dangerous in the world we live in. The Latin root for obedience is “obaudire”, to listen thoroughly. The very first word of the Rule of Saint Benedict is “Listen.” Benedict asks us to listen to his instructions with the ear of the heart. Not just with the mind as in an intellectual exercise, but also with the heart, which is the root of love. So we lovingly listen to the voice of God speaking to us in Sacred Scripture, and the traditions of the Church. We lovingly listen in our daily circumstances and relationships. We lovingly listen to the words of other people. We lovingly listen to our own hearts. By lovingly listening, we carefully discern God’s will and translate it into action.
 
Stability, “to stay put”, makes us confront our tendencies to avoid God, others, and ourselves. All too often we use our free times to escape into fantasies that remove us from the present moment. Through the monastic principle of stability, we engage in the hard, ongoing, and transformative work of being present where God has called us and where our choices have lead us. And we engage in the radical love that challenges us to learn about, respect, honor, and even celebrate what has been called the otherness of the other, in all his or her difference, and wonder.
 
Conversion of life is central to Benedictine life and has to do with the paschal mystery of death and life as it is lived out daily through a lifetime. It is about being broken and renewed. It is about being in the hands of the living God who meets us most reliably at the point of our temptations, self-doubts, and discomforts with a never-ending invitation to holiness. Conversion of life reminds us of the central symbol of transformation in Christianity- a naked, bleeding human nailed to a cross. It reminds us that there cannot be resurrection before crucifixion. It reminds us that there is a broken, wounded part inside each and every one of us, and that the one thing we all have in common as human beings is our powerlessness. And we can only come to terms with this when we grow in humility.
 
The longest chapter of Benedict’s Rule is on the subject of humility. Humility requires radical self-honesty, and a total acceptance of who we are with all our unchangeable past, gifts, strengths, weaknesses, successes, and failures. It requires that we surrender and learn to love those parts about ourselves that we think of as unlovable so that our capacity to love can widen. Humility is essential for an individual or a community to flourish because it guides us in having respectful and loving interactions with others. The humble is able to respect the dignity of every human being (even the particularly undignified politician) because the humble knows we all are in need of mercy daily. The humble knows that calling evil what it is, is an act of love, but we must do so without engaging in verbal or social violence. It is only through humility that we can ground ourselves in our true identity as people who are called to overcome evil with good.
 
The Benedictine call then, is to be a people willing to be passionately caring; a people willing to be a challenge and example to our society as a whole; a people willing to be in the world, but not of the world; a people willing to stand at the margins of society so that we can see what really is; a people willing to meet the pain and inner death that comes with seeing the real. We do it trusting that God is always able to bring new life out of all loss. We do it with the confidence that God, who shatters our expectations and surpasses our understanding, only desires for us to evolve into the fullness of the image in which we are made. Holy Father Benedict, pray for us. ¡Que así sea en el nombre del Padre y del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo! ~Amen+
 

References:

• Terrence G. Kardong, OSB, Benedict’s Rule: A Translation and Commentary (Liturgical Press, 2016)

• Jane Tomaine, St. Benedict’s Toolbox: The Nuts and Bolts of Everyday Benedictine Living, Revised Edition (Church Publishing, 2015)

• Norvene Vest, Preferring Christ: A Devotional Commentary on the Rule of St. Benedict (Church Publishing, 2004)

• Rule for Associates of Holy Cross, 1998

• Br. Randy Greeve, OHC, Sermon for the Feast of St. Peter and St. Paul- Holy Cross Monastery, June 29, 2018

• Br. Robert James Magliula, OHC, Sermon for the Feast of Saint Benedict- Holy Cross Monastery, July 11, 2015

• Br. Scott Wesley Borden, OHC, Sermon for the Feast of Saint Benedict- Holy Cross Monastery- July 11, 2012

• Br. Robert Leo Sevensky, OHC, Sermon for the Feast of Saint Benedict- Holy Cross Monastery, July 11, 2010

The Feast of St. Benedict: 79th General Convention Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Aidan Owen, OHC

The Feast of St. Benedict- Wednesday, July 11, 2018


To see the sermon in its fullness click here.

Br. Aidan Owen, OHC 

What do you desire?

That is the first question when you’re received as a postulant into a monastic community, and again when you receive the habit as a novice, and again when you make the three-fold Benedictine vow of obedience, stability, and conversion of life to the monastic way.

I do understand the impulse to defeat and vanquish evil. But such violent impulses are a part of evil’s grip on us. Although we can and must resist evil, we can never destroy it. Such is not within our power. Rather, we are called to bear witness to the one who can heal and integrate evil, to the one who can break evil open, and turn even the stoniest heart to flesh. We are called to point the way, through our own fleshy hearts, to the one who can transform and convert evil into good, so that, at the end, even Lucifer will bear God’s light again.


This question of desire drives the Benedictine Way, and, indeed the Christian Way. In his Rule for monks, Benedict gives a very simple and a very challenging answer: prefer nothing whatever to Christ.

You see, Benedict knew that, contrary to the image of monasticism in popular culture as a dour and serious life, the monastic life is really a love affair. For fifteen hundred years Benedict’s rule has provided a structure and context for pursuing the deepest longing of the heart for wholeness and unity in God. The Christian mystical tradition calls this search the pursuit of “purity of heart,” though we might more accurately describe it as “unity of heart,” which is to say the uniting of our entire being—body, mind, spirit, heart-centered in love on the one who is Love itself.

Monastic communities have always been spacious places in a crowded world. That space was certainly what drew me to Benedictine life. My whole life I had been driven by a longing so deep and powerful I couldn’t find a name for it. This longing was a burning secret at the center of my life. And every context in which I found myself was simply too small to hold it, or to hold me.

When I came to Holy Cross, where I’m now a monk, my intuition told me that I had finally found a place with enough space for that longing. It was certainly one of the few places I’d found where people nodded their heads knowingly when I mentioned this deep desire without a name.

I remember Andrew, in particular, an old Scottish monk with a wicked sense of humor, who would sit with me on my visits. He looked me right in the eyes, looked deep into my heart as only those who have lived the life of faith for decades can do, and he said, “I love you.” And as the tears streamed down my face, he said, in voice that understood, “Yes, it hurts to be loved.”

It does hurt to be loved. And it also hurts to love. Which is probably one reason so many of us avoid loving as fully, deeply, and freely as Jesus calls us to do. In this world that is so often small-minded, bitter, and violent—and increasingly so—we harden our hearts to keep them from breaking. But it is only the broken heart that has enough space to love as we ought. And it is only by breaking that our hearts turn from stone to flesh.

Monastic life participates, right here and now, in eternity. That is the secret to its spaciousness. In the hallowing of the everyday, Benedict’s rule points toward the holiness of the incarnate life in which, as he points out, the tools of the kitchen or the garden are as precious as the vessels of the altar. With eternity as its context, there is enough space for the whole of one’s life to emerge.

How different that process is from the process of education, identity-building, and success in contemporary society and even in the Church today. In Benedictine life, you don’t “become someone.” You don’t “make it.” Instead, over a lifetime, you surrender to God’s desire to stitch back together the fragments of your life, so that, what once seemed maimed, ugly, or shameful becomes, through the persistent and loving movement of God, beautiful, whole, and holy.

The Benedictine vision of the Christian life, in fact, asserts that it is precisely these parts of ourselves we would most like to deny that is the gateway to wholeness. We are not to jettison the shameful inner fragments, nor to exile or erase them as if we ever could. No, we are to allow God, in the context of our community life, to heal and transform those parts so that even they carry nourishing blood throughout the body.

If this movement toward wholeness is true on the individual level, how much truer it is for the community. For Benedictines, salvation is never individual. It is always communal. Each member of the monastic community is essential to the health of the whole body, each has his unique contribution to make. When a brother or sister is in need of a physician, the community provides one, which may include disciplinary action, but always with the goal not of punishing or shaming but of healing, transforming, and integrating that brother or sister back into the body of the community, where their flourishing is our flourishing.

None of us can or will be saved in isolation. It’s all of us or none of us. Because love is never finally satisfied. As any monk will tell you, the more your desire is fulfilled, the deeper that desire gets. It has no limit, because, ultimately, our desire is to be in total union with one who made and sustains us, the one whose Love is our true name and our true nature.

The more I live the monastic and the Christian life, the more fully I am convinced that no one and nothing is beyond this love. And that no matter how dark the times in which we live, God is still working, through each of us, to break the world’s heart open so that it can become a heart of flesh.

This is a challenging vision in the times in which we live. The forces of evil swirl around us and seem to tighten rather than loosen their hold. And yet, even—especially—when evil seems strongest, we are called all the more to allow our own hearts to break open, and to love without reservation.


As James Stephens so beautifully puts it in his poem “The Fullness of Time,”

On a rusty iron throne

Past the furthest star of space  

I saw Satan sit alone,      

Old and haggard was his face;    

For his work was done and he

Rested in eternity.          

 

And to him from out the sun      

Came his father and his friend  

Saying, now the work is done    

Enmity is at an end:        

And he guided Satan to

Paradises that he knew.                

 

Gabriel without a frown,              

Uriel without a spear,  

Raphael came singing down              

Welcoming their ancient peer,  

And they seated him beside        

One who had been crucified.

There is nothing and no one who does not, ultimately, belong to God. There is no part of us, individually or collectively, that is beyond the reach of God’s healing and reconciling love. And if we follow the deep desires of our heart, if we prefer nothing whatever to Christ and allow Christ’s love to break and fill our hearts, who knows what kind of spacious sanctuary we may become?

The Feast of St. Benedict- Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br.  Scott Borden, OHC

The Feast of St. Benedict- Wednesday, July 11, 2018


To hear the sermon in its fullness click here.

Br.  Scott Borden, OHC

Like so many figures in our tradition, what we believe about Benedict is far greater than what we know about Benedict... When I was more interested in things journalistic, that would have troubled me.

Brother Andrew used to preface statements with a qualifier of the following nature: "It may not have happened this way, but this is the truth." Of course, Andrew would smile and laugh as though he were joking, but he wasn't. If we are confined to the literal, then we are very deprived indeed. So, let's not be too bound to the literal as we look a bit at the life of Benedict...Of course, there is one point of solid evidence in the life of Benedict and that is the Rule of Benedict. 

I'll happily acknowledge that I may not be impartial, but the Rule is surely one of the most important pieces in the history of monasticism, not just Western but Eastern Christianity. The influence of the rule on all expressions of Monasticism is profound. Just ask our Orthodox brothers and sisters at New Skete.

So, let's hear a chapter from the rule...  Of the Porter of the Monastery: Inside near the gates of the monastery a cell is to be provided for a brother, who by reason of advanced age cannot wander far. Posted there, let him at all times close up the monastery behind those who leave and open it for those who are coming in, and announce arrivals to the abbot. During periods devoted to reading, he must see to it that the gates are locked. In a like manner, when the signal for the Divine Office has sounded he is to lock the gates and be present in the oratory... Those who know the Rule of Benedict will realize that I'm perpetuating a bit of a fraud... that is not the Rule of Benedict, but rather the Rule of the Master... Benedict's rule, it would seem, has an evil twin: The Rule of the Master.

The two rules share many starting points. Benedict addresses the porter of the monastery – an older brother is to be given a room near the entrance and his charge is to deal with those who come to the door. But how the porter deals with the those who comes to the door – there is the difference.
The Master's porter is a gate keeper. He is to keep folks out and make sure those allowed in are kept in line so as not to disturb the community. Benedict's porter is there to extend hospitality to the strangers at the door – to welcome them and offer them a blessing.

Time and again the two rules start in the same place – it’s the destinations that demonstrate the difference. Benedict focuses on a growing life of faith which then is shared with others, both with brothers and strangers. The Master focuses on keeping the brothers focused and free of distraction.
Was one rule based on the other? Who knows. Were both rules based on some older, lost tradition? Scholars wonder.

So, with the help of Br Andrew let me sort this out...It may not have happened exactly this way, but this is the truth...

Once upon a time a man named Benedict was called to lead a monastery that was in trouble... The abbot had died, and the community was a shambles...

The brothers knew they needed help and so they sought Benedict, a good and powerful leader, to get them back on track. Benedict dutifully assumed the position of Abbot and set about the work of rescuing this community. After all, this is what the community had called him to do.

It should, therefore, come as no surprise to anyone who knows anything about communities to learn that the brothers of the monastery responded to Benedict's loving correction by conspiring to kill Abbot Benedict. What else could they do?

They put poison in the wine for his Eucharistic Celebration and waited for Benedict to drink his own death. But God intervened. As Benedict prayed a blessing over the cup it shattered, the poison was spilled and Benedict was saved. We might wonder at the faithfulness of these brothers, but when it came to ridding themselves of Benedict they were devoted...

If the wine didn't do it, then it's on to the bread... poison is applied to the host for Benedict's celebration, but before he could eat the deadly loaf, a raven sweeps in and snatches it away. Birds – one. Community – zero.

So here is my theory, which I know to be true even if it didn't exactly happen this way... When Benedict assumed the position of Abbot at that troubled monastery, he attempted to enforce the Rule of the Master. The result, to say the least, was not life giving. But when God spared Benedict from attempted assassinations, he also put it in Benedict's mind to spare future generations from that terrible rule. And so, Benedict crafted his rule out of the dregs of the Rule of the Master.

Time and again The Rule of Benedict starts with the same chapter heading as the Rule of the Master, and time and again Benedict turns away from a stringent, precise, highly detailed answer to a generous and loving answer. How much food and drink should each brother have? The Master knows to the ounce. St. Benedict is more vague – each should have enough... but not too much... and if there is a shortage we may have to do with less... and if that is the case, we had better not complain...
The Master's rule calls us to stay within the boundaries. Benedict's rule calls us to live life to the Glory of God.

It is a difference of extreme importance – and one that has been part of the Christian enterprise since the time of Jesus, and part of the religious enterprise long before that.

From the very beginning of scripture, we see the pattern of these two rules emerging. Starting during the life of Moses, rules (the law) become important in the way faithful people live their lives. You really can't be faithful without some sort of rule. Some of the rules, the law, define how we live with each other, in community. And other rules, also the law, call us to live in a way that is pleasing to God – one is a code of justice and the other a code of holiness.

There lies a fundamental difference between the Rule of the Master and the Rule of St Benedict. The Master is defining a code of holiness. You do what the rule says because that is what is pleasing to God and anything else is wicked. Benedict is defining a code of just living. You live according to the rule because that brings about a community where all are treated as brothers and sisters – as equally loved children of God. Within Benedict's framework there are many times when discretion, creativity, even contradiction are essential.

Why on earth would anyone choose a rule like the Rule of the Master over a rule like the Rule of St Benedict? It is tempting to answer that no sensible, faithful person would, but that is not the truth.
The reality is that the Rule of the Master, while it may seem daunting in its minute detail, is simpler to follow. You don't have to figure out what is right or wrong, you just have to figure out what the rule says. Benedict is much messier. It demands that you think and that you adapt. For someone looking for a fixed and unchanging truth, the Rule of Benedict is an unappealing destination.

Yet Benedict's rule is fully concerned with our transformation of life. And it is in the messy, confusing, sometimes frustrating, even contradictory working out of life in community under a rule that our ways are converted – that we are transformed – that God's kingdom is built in our hearts.
The Master seeks to control and manage our will. Benedict seeks to harness our will.

If the rules of Benedict and the Master were available in Jesus' day, I dare say Jesus would have been enthusiastic about Benedict's rule while the Pharisees would have been far more enamored of the Master's rule. Jesus is always interested in justice – especially justice for the weak, the powerless, the oppressed. The Pharisees are interested in absolute answers and sound doctrine.

We tend to overlook that Jesus was a trouble making revolutionary who was interested in disturbing the status quo – because the status quo, now as much as then, is designed to give all the advantage to the rich and powerful. Following Jesus meant then, and still means today, standing against the culture and disrespecting some rules.

We may not think of Benedict as particularly revolutionary, but think what it would mean if the world as it is now were transformed into the community Benedict has in mind... Benedict, through his holy and inspired rule, has given us a plan for conversion of our ways of life to the monastic way – that is a plan not for safety, not for comfort, but for the revolutionary act of building God's Kingdom.