Tag Archives: Rule

Chapter 1: the different kind of monks and their customs

cropped-color-calgary-header-3

…let us with God’s help establish a rule for Cenobites who are the best kind of monks.

Who is my community?

This opening chapter is sober reading. I return to the wise warning of Sister Catherine Wybourne,

Pray and read. I didn’t speak about RB until I’d lived under it in community for 15 years.

It is obvious that Cenobites, ‘those who live in a monastery waging their war under a rule and an abbot’ are St. Benedict’s ideal (aside from the Anchorites/hermits). This is right, of course, for not only am I reminded of God’s statement in Genesis, ‘“It is not good for the man to be alone.”’ (Genesis 2:18) but also we return to the question we asked last week, ‘Who is my master?’

It is clear that the monastic life is never to be done in isolation; an individual, personal choice unconnected from others but, rather, a public commitment to others with whom one binds oneself. St. Benedict establishes early, the call to monastic life is the call to a cenobiac life (the Latin derivation of the Greek koinos, “common”, and bios, “life”.) The Sarabaites and the gyratory monks are spoken of with such distain, ‘unschooled’, ‘untested’, ‘soft’, ‘openly lying to God’,

It is better to be silent as to their wretched life style than to speak.

Philip Lawrence, OSB, Abbot of Christ in the Desert, helpful suggests,

I suppose that we are all Sarabaites to some degree, and must fight constantly against that tendency…Humanly, of course, we all tend to call holy what we believe in and to consider forbidden that which we dislike. This is part of the gift of having a tradition that we can accept and grow in. (Philip Lawrence, “Chapter 1: The Kinds of Monks”, Benedictine Abbey of Christ in the Desert, January 8 2014, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/66.html)

The Sarabaites and the gyratory monks both are marked, not by the lack of other human beings but by the lack of a human authority; an abbot who is the focus and teacher of a Rule. A community, it seems, must have a shared set of principles (A Rule) and one who lives it out and interprets the Rule for the community (An Abbot) in order for it to be beneficial. It is of no use engaging with a ‘community’ if you are not willing to be obedient to others; sacrificing personal desires and will and allowing yourself be taught. Again, Lawrence wisely observes,

There is a real formation in having to deal with other human persons in a community and with having to learn to live with a superior who is not perfect and yet to whom we give our obedience.(Lawrence, http://christdesert.org/Detailed/66.html)

Even the Anchorites ‘have spent much time in the monastery testing themselves.’ Here I am reminded of Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk and spiritual writer of the 20th century, who yearned to retreat into a hermitage but was continually called to remain in the community at The Abbey of Gethsemani,

The hope of finding a more solitary life now seems to be quite well founded. There are definite possibilities, but also there are still very great obstacles to be overcome, not least of which is my own Abbot. (October 8, 1959, Thomas Merton to Jean Leclercq, ‘Survival or Prophecy?: The letters of Thomas Merton and Jean Leclercq (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2002) p.83)

This statement of desire to enter a solitary life was penned in 1959. Seven years earlier in Merton’s journals he is making decisions to enter into solitude,

I am now almost completely convinced that I am only really a monk when I am alone in the old toolshed Reverend Father gave me. (September 3, 1952, Thomas Merton, ‘A Search for Solitude: The Journals of Thomas Merton: Volume Three 1952-1960’ (New York: HarperCollins, 1997) p.14)

Remembering that Merton entered the monastic life in 1941, that’s a cenobiac life of 10 years before coming to a definite conviction to becoming an ‘Anchorite’ (although Merton always disliked the categories given to different types of monk). Even then, He would have to wait until 1965 until entering his own hermitage and living the life of solitude.

cropped-color-calgary-header-3

The Common Life

There is no escaping this question of human community with whom to live out the ‘common life’. As an ordained minister in a parish, who is my community? Who are the people who will share a ‘common life’ with me? The answer should be the congregation with whom I find myself but this is problematic.

There’s a popular notion that it is difficult and dangerous to be ‘friends’ with members of your own congregation. The reason is given that you can’t be close and intimate with one member with out being so with others. I think this is a silly notion and dismiss it. Ordained ministers must have personal relationships and will always have closer and stronger relationships with some members than others. Unless one either cuts themselves off from all close relationships then you will always spend more time and be more open with one, more than another.

The Cenobite, however, in order to give themselves completely to a ‘common life’ must know the trust and safety of deep relationship. It is difficult to enter into a life-long committed relationship without some degree of trust. Vulnerability requires a sense of safety, however small that might be. Here is where, community becomes tricky in parish.

Ordained ministry can become very much one sided in terms of commitment to relationship and community life. The reasons people attend church are many and varied from duty to a deep call/vocation to the life and work of God’s Church. Some turn up just for a quick fix, or because it is just part of their routine; they desire nothing more than to hear the same old words and to be comforted and propped up by a sense that it’s still going on. Others go to be challenged, to be given something to think and pray about; they want to reflect deeply about their faith, to encounter God. As a pastor to all of these, as well as to those in your parish that don’t attend church, you want to enter into their lives to be there in every aspect. You want to be able to speak words of comfort, consolation and challenge at the important moments of life; ultimately, you want to point to God at those times when He’s most needed.

This desire for that kind of relationship and community is not shared with everyone or fully understood by others. Some actively reject such intrusion whilst others seek it too much. Whichever way people go, the impetus comes from you. There’s rarely a sharing of life, equal and balanced in a ‘middle of the road’ Anglican parish. To call a whole congregation to a more committed ‘common life’ is not desired by all members as we all, as Lawrence suggested, ‘we all tend to call holy what we believe in and to consider forbidden that which we dislike.’ Where might the cenobiac commitment to other human beings challenge the consumerist approach seen at different degrees within parish ministry?

In the Diocese of York we have been looking at Five Marks of Growing. one of these is ‘commitment’. ++Sentamu wants to see disciples of Jesus growing in commitment. This must, I feel, include, at some level, a growth in the commitment to a common life and a more ‘monastic’ call.

So what does it look like to be in community, in a parish, when even members of your congregation aren’t interested or inclined to increase their commitment beyond their Sunday attendance?

I’d want to suggest a formalizing of the observable norm in most congregations: a central core group and a fringe. This is not about creating a boundary around the core people, stating some are ‘in’ and others ‘out’ but rather a marking of a central point with which one can place oneself; a shared set of principles (A Rule). Most congregations have this in some form or another but often it remains unspoken, and therefore unshared, or it is spoken of ambiguously (the generic, ‘In, Up and Out’).

Reflection

To be protected against myself I need to take up the yoke of A Rule, under the obedience to an Abbot.

I have committed, for three years, to the Rule of the Northumbria Community but I am currently struggling with the lack of a physical community around me with whom to share that walk. I also see the need of an Abbot under whom I can allow the Rule to shape and challenge me. The leaders of the Northumbria Community are available but are not sharing life with me; the everyday moments. Without an Abbot I am a Sarabaite with all the tendencies described in the Rule of St. Benedict.

Holy Trinity, Divine Community, You make us to share life with others. Help me to establish a rule under which I might learn the joys of obedience. Show me the human abbots with whom I can share the common life and to whom I can look for protection against my ‘unschooled desires’.

Come, Lord Jesus 

Prologue

cropped-color-calgary-header-3

Listen, my son, and with your heart hear the principles of your Master.

Who is my Master?

The, almost direct, quoting of the Book of Proverbs must be deliberate.

Hear, my child, your father’s instruction (Proverbs 1:8)

In Proverbs, wisdom is explored in a series of parallels and paradoxes and from what I have read of the Rule it is similar in approach. There is deeply practical pieces of advice but each of these prosaic ‘teachings’ has a subtle challenge to issues of the heart.

As I set out on this journey, I turned to Sister Catherine Wybourne, a Benedictine nun and Twitter user, to ask for her advice on reflecting on the Rule of St. Benedict. Her reply was characteristically wise,

Pray and read. I didn’t speak about RB until I’d lived under it in community for 15 years. Not sure if that’s a tip or a warning!

It would be too arrogant to dismiss the clear instruction of St. Benedict to listen to the human abbot, the earthly father but there is a clear double teaching here, I feel, to see an abbot as an ambassador for God, our heavenly Father. As Benedict continues it is hard to discern when he is talking of following God and when he is talking of necessity to live out the Rule. It is fair to say, however, that I am challenged in this; who is my Master? Who has oversight of my obedience to God to ensure I am not just following my own flights of fancy and desires? Who is my abbot?

cropped-color-calgary-header-3

Seeking His Kingdom

Throughout the Prologue I see the word ‘Kingdom’ jump out. It reminds me of a comment a dear brother made to me in Advent,

You speak of the Kingdom of God much more than other Anglicans I know. They prefer to speak of the Church.

What he meant was I speak more about growing the Kingdom of God than I do about getting people into church. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to see Christ’s Church grow but I don’t see that as our main objective. I believe, rightly or wrongly, that the Church will grow when the Kingdom grows. If Christians receive Christ in them when they open the doors of their heart to Him, that same Spirit will seek to unite with itself it will draw us to others who have Christ in them the hope of glory. Christ calls his disciples to be his hands and feet and if we, as individual Christians believe that Christ works through us by His Spirit, we should also believe that others must receive Christ’s Spirit and thus be conduits for His mercy and grace. Why wouldn’t want to be there to see that manifest in the reality of life?

I also don’t think that ‘other Anglicans’ disagree with me on that but I do feel we all fall easily into a trap of speaking about Church much more than Kingdom. We have found a pearl and buried it in a field but now we spend more time protecting and tending the field than we do about remembering the pearl. When the field is threatened we protect it with all our lives. It’s not that we have forgotten about the pearl but it lies in the ground all the while that we are unsure whether it still resides where we buried it or if it has been stolen away already!

I ‘wish to be sheltered in this Kingdom’ to possess the pearl, or rather to let it possess me* and so I ‘ask our Lord (with the prophets),

Lord, who shall live in Your Kingdom? or who shall rest on Your holy mountain? (Psalm 15:1)

Benedict outlines clearly the call to wholehearted commitment to obedience to God’s commandments and ridding ourselves of inner desires to stray from ‘God’s path’. Our response is to ‘prepare ourselves, in body and soul, to fight under the commandments of holy obedience.’ It will not be easy nor can we do this on our own. God becomes, once more our teacher and Master but equally we return to the call to commitments to a community.

Do not fear this and retreat, for the path to salvation is long and the entrance is narrow… Never departing from His guidance, remaining in the monastery until death, we patiently share in Christ’s passion, so we may eventually enter into the Kingdom of God.

The Prologue opens and invites a novice to step in and take on the life-long and life-giving commitment to God. We submit our wills to His in pursuit of knowing His Kingdom born in us and the world which we inhabit. God is our teacher and Master but because we are weak and prone to disobedience He graciously gives us earthly ambassadors who have walked His paths longer than us and thus community centred on a shared seeking of the principles of His Kingdom is necessary in our discipleship.

Reflection

As I set out, what is God inviting me into? The invitation, for me, is the same as when it first was given: to radically submit to God’s will for my life, moment by moment. To discern that I need to know His voice and humble myself to obedience of His ambassadors and gifts of discipline until His Kingdom is established here amongst us.

Father and Master, I submit. Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Place me with whom Thou wilt. Gather Your people around me that I might be defended within the Body of Christ. Defended from ‘the tortures of Hell’ and from myself.

Come, Lord Jesus.

*This idea is explored by Peter Rollins in ‘Advent’ in his book, How (not) To Speak Of God (London: SPCK, 2006) p.103-108

Monasticism and Asceticism (part I)

I want to begin by reminding myself of something said in the sermon by our college chaplain on Tuesday night; As church leaders we are the most at risk of temptation to boast of spiritual achievements (see 2 Corinthians 12). Having said that I will add that I tell you about the intense couple of days I have just had, not to boast, but to share and document what God was saying to me through the experience.

Now that disclaimer has been issued…

‘The Monastic Ball of Intensity’ (T.M.B.I.)(see Wrestling With Truth (part III)) and I have talked for some months now about reading Isaiah straight through out loud; we wanted to listen to the whole narrative as it flows. As the term went on and things filled our diaries, we found ourselves in the last weeks with very little time during the day to take on this exercise. We decided that it would be ‘cool’ to do it at night and ‘up the stakes’. As we talked about it the descriptive words used by both of us became less ‘interesting, useful’ and more ‘endurance, intense, hardcore, ascetic’ and we started to run away with ideas of doing an all night spiritual marathon with prayers and disciplines added on.

The final decision was: after the college communion on Tuesday night we would do Compline (Night Prayer) and start at chapter one. We would take alternate chapters and/or rotate through whoever came and joined us. We would light some candles and have a simple cross to help our focus but the main task was to listen and digest the words of ‘the great prophet’. We would stay up all night and fast in the chapel as we read and when we came to the end of Isaiah we would decide on another prophet (perhaps Ezekiel) and read through until we got to about 6.00am when we would read Morning prayer and prepare ourselves for a quiet day on Holy Island, organised by our college for the students.

And so at 10pm on Tuesday T.M.B.I., myself and three other students sat in chapel and said Compline together by candle light. We then went straight into Isaiah, chapter 1, verse 1: ‘The vision concerning Judah and Jerusalem that Isaiah son of Amoz…’

During the evening we stopped and prayed for different things, we repeated verses that struck us as important, we knelt in quiet meditation. People came and went and by chapter 40 it was T.M.B.I. and I, one kneeling the other reading. The whole experience was intense, amazing and exhilarating. The sleep deprivation, although visible in my eyes was not felt in my spirit. I was buzzing as we head into the final chapters. God’s presence was so tangible; one person who joined said that as he walked in the place was heavy with holiness… but I’m heading too close to boasting of my experience.

At 2.30am, we had completed Isaiah and moved to our common room to reflect on what we felt God saying through the reading. The only word I could use was ‘relentless’. Isaiah, gives you no break from the anger of God, the passion for His people and, through it all, His almighty mercy. Hope is splattered through the whole book but always the background of depravity and darkness; specks of light break through blackness. T.M.B.I. commented on the ineffability of the text, all we can truly hold is the emotional response to the ‘relentless’ narrative of this relationship of God and his people. We were all struck, I think, by the importance of repentance for sin, not to cheapen grace and forgiveness and, most importantly, not to tame God! What does confession of sin and repentance look like in a theatre setting? I have some ideas already brimming, need to capture the truth of them…

T.M.B.I. went to bed after an hour and a half of chatting and I went back and read Acts, a perfect complement to Isaiah. I was struck by the Spirit (which I will not speak of) and it came as a drenching after an academic year where I have rarely been fed as deeply. When it got to 5.30am I started Morning Prayer, alone in the chapel.

Afterwards, I went, got washed and changed and went to meet a group of guys who I have prayed with over this year. I was flying, it was amazing… I can hardly describe it. The prayer session was fantastic and I’m so grateful for those guys who have supported and ministered to me and for whom have allowed me to support them in times of vulnerability.

And then on to Holy Island…

The home of St Cuthbert, ‘Durham’s Saint’, for many years, Lindisfarne is a place that knows monasticism! After a brief reflection in the church there I went for a solitary walk to some beach. As I sat I asked God to speak and sum up what happened the previous night. I was drawn to Peter Brooks’ chapter on Holy Theatre in ‘The Empty Space’ which now lives, again, constantly in my bag. He writes,

‘he himself was always speaking of a complete way of life, of a theatre in which the activity of the actor and the activity of the spectator were driven by the same desperate need… Artaud applied is Artaud betrayed: betrayed because it is always just a portion of his thought that is exploited, betrayed because it is easier to apply rules to the work of a handful of dedicated actors than to the lives of the unknown spectators who happen by chance to come through the theatre door.’

What a powerful way of describing the work of any prophet. I sat and thought about what I had heard the night before from Isaiah. ‘Isaiah applied is Isaiah betrayed’ for the exact same reason as it was for Artaud. Brook also says,

‘…maybe the power of his vision is that it is the carrot in front of our nose, never to be reached.’

I’m not sure about the ‘never to be reached’, in Isaiah’s case, but certainly not within the limitations of this fallen world. Isaiah’s vision is always out of reach in completion but that we grasp one thing and then another thing is brought into focus. I shared this thought with T.M.B.I. and he came out with a gem only he could say,

‘That’s why we have to stay mad!’

I wonder if he knew Artaud as the man who died with one shoe in his hand, in an asylum?

That would be a nice completion of my post today but… in true Isaiah fashion I will carry on!

As I stood on Cuthbert’s Island, a little clump of land which becomes an island at high tide, I heard the seals wailing. The sound was so powerful. It sounded like the screams of demons or of a damage generation. High on sleep deprivation and coming off an epic reading of the prophet, I imagined Cuthbert stood in prayer hearing the seals wailing, in the distance the mainland. What a powerful prayer tool! God called me to pray for this country and the emotional screams that echo through our land. I desperately wanted something to have as a reminder of that meeting with God and I went into the shops to buy some memento… it was all tat!

Hope was at hand. Friends of mine were making a visit to the Northumbria Community and I was keen to have a look at this way of life and to buy some spiritual aid. I have heard so much about this community over the last year and was intrigued about the nomadic nature of the community and how we, in the theatre world may use the framework.

When we arrived it was a lovely farmhouse, homely and welcoming. The people were awesome and very hospitable, which is good because it’s part of their Rule. I looked at their prayers and studied the literature they use and was dissatisfied. For me (and it is a very personal thing!) their liturgy and the focus of the community was a little too ‘hippy’ for me, too alternative. If anyone has gone to Greenbelt before and found some of the religious stuff too ‘60s love and peace’ then this place is not a religious home for you. Having said that, the welcome and peace around the house is wonderful and I can see, if you want a place to rest, then this is ideal. I just wouldn’t be signing up to read their Morning Prayer every day with a very earthy and ‘hippy’ mentality. This all sounds cruel, it’s not! I can’t describe what it is about the literature I saw but I accepted it wasn’t for me, although I would praise the theory behind it. The work of this community is important and, for others, will be a real home, but for me it isn’t.

What then of a monastic styled community for the theatre? What of a rhythm of prayer for actors who travel (see Riding Lights Theatre Church post)? I have started a conversation with a Fransican friend of mine, we shall call her ‘The Mother’ (not sure what she’d say to that but she has a great maternal instinct and it has slight religious connotations!). She follows the Fransican Rule and as I spoke to her this morning she spoke about the ‘fool for Christ’. I will speak more to ehr about it before offering embryonic thoughts…

How to end in Isaiah fashion? Chapter 66, verse 23 and 24:

‘“From one New Moon to another and from one Sabbath to another, all mankind will come and bow down before me,” says the LORD. “And they will go out and look upon the dead bodies of those who rebelled against me; their worm will not die, nor will their fire be quenched, and they will be loathsome to all mankind.”’

Relentless, isn’t it?