Frank R. Fisher, Obl OSB
 
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"We are thus forbidden to do our own will, since the Scripture saith to us: "And turn away from thy evil will" (Sir 18:30). And thus, too, we ask God in prayer that His will may be done in us (cf Mt 6:10). We are, therefore, rightly taught not to do our own will, when we guard against what Scripture saith: "There are ways that to men seem right, the end whereof plungeth into the depths of hell" (Prov 16:25). And also when we are filled with dread at what is said of the negligent: "They are corrupted and become abominable in their pleasure" (Ps 13[14]:1). But as regards desires of the flesh, let us believe that God is thus ever present to us, since the Prophet saith to the Lord: "Before Thee is all my desire" (Ps 37[38]:10)." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 7.

These words come from Benedict's chapter on humility. How many of us in congregations, whether we serve in the pulpit or in the pew, have thought about this concept? I certainly know a lot of pastors who are very impressed with themselves. Of course I have met many congregants who are similarly impressed.

I have served in several congregations who were experiencing, or had experienced conflict. Almost all of them at some point included a pastor or parishioner, or several of each, who started many sentences with "I want . . . " The success of these congregations in surviving these experiences, and moving on to become a thriving community, is essentially measured by their ability to give up that phrase. Instead they turn to phrases like, "what does God call us to do here," or "how can I serve you." 

In my denomination one of the membership, and ordination vows includes the question, "who is your Lord and Savior." The required answer is, "Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior."  If we declare Christ is the Lord of our lives, we must also declare that we are not out to get our own way.  Instead, our way should be one considering how Jesus would have us live, and how Jesus would have us treat others. To me, the first step on that path, is the abandonment of "I want," and instead embracing humility.
 
 
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"Above all things, that the Abbot may not neglect or undervalue the welfare of the souls entrusted to him, let him not have too great a concern about fleeting, earthly, perishable things; but let him always consider that he hath undertaken the government of souls, of which he must give an account. And that he may not perhaps complain of the want of earthly means, let him remember what is written: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His justice, and all these things shall be added unto you" (Mt 6:33). And again: "There is no want to them that fear Him" (Ps 33[34]:10). And let him know that he who undertaketh the government of souls must prepare himself to give an account for them; and whatever the number of brethren he hath under his charge, let him be sure that on judgment day he will, without doubt, have to give an account to the Lord for all these souls, in addition to that of his own. And thus, whilst he is in constant fear of the Shepherd's future examination about the sheep entrusted to him, and is watchful of his account for others, he is made solicitous also on his own account; and whilst by his admonitions he had administered correction to others, he is freed from his own failings." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 2       

I hope that most of us who are in pastoral ministry came to our place in life to care for Christ's people. But Benedict takes this care a step further. He speaks about caring for souls. He speaks of the Abbot being called to account for those monks who have entrusted their lives, and their souls to his care. I think the same is true for those called to pastoral ministry.

When you think about it, the idea of caring for souls is an awesome responsibility. How much of our time is taken up by administration. And yes, I know, administration is one of the gifts of the Spirit described by Paul. But how does it impact the care of the souls entrusted to our care? How does constant upkeep of a building help care for souls? How does being an expert at find raising care for souls?

Don't get me wrong. I do know those things have an impact on our congregations. Yet they are not the chief impact we should make. I have never forgotten the sermon a friend and mentor preached at my ordination. He described a brass plaque on the pulpit of his home church. On the plaque were the words of scripture, "Sir, we would see Jesus." 'Show them Jesus," my friend instructed me. "Show them Jesus."

In each encounter with our congregants we have the opportunity to show Jesus. We can do this by the things we do; things like the example of our lives; like our own devotion to prayer and scripture; things like the way we treat each person with whom we come in contact; things like the care we have for our own families.

We can of course block Jesus from our congregant's vision. We can do this by actions, such as pastoral abuse in any form or by teaching those for whom are supposed to care, how to hate their sisters and brothers who are in someway different from us. We can also block Jesus by our inaction. We can cut a few corners. We can try to cater to a popular view of scriptures instead of helping those we teach dive into their depths. We can block Jesus in so many ways that it is frightening to think about.

I suppose it is admonitions like this part of Benedict's Rule that have played a large part in my decision to follow his little rule for beginners. Benedict constantly reminds me of how to live like a Christian and, in this case, to care deeply for the souls of those people entrusted to my care.
 
 
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"Place your hope in God alone. If you notice something good in yourself, give credit to God, not to yourself, but be certain that the evil you commit is always your own and yours to acknowledge." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 4.

People often ask how I can be both a Presbyterian and a Benedictine. One of the answers is the remarkable similarity of our teachings. The Presbyterian Church (USA) Book of Confessions . says we are all capable of utter depravity. As a Presbyterian I believe there is nothing we can do that is good enough to justify ourselves with God. Even the love of Christ is a God given gift as we are not capable of it on our own. As a Benedictine I believe in constant conversion; the process of falling from God's path but through God's grace finding a way to return to it once again. This process of falling and getting up again will continue for the rest of my life.     

This Sunday I'm preaching on the story of David and Bathsheba. You know the story. David seduces Bathsheba. Bathsheba gets pregnant. David has her husband murdered. I doubt any of us could call such an action anything but evil. But despite such evil, out of the marriage of David and Bathsheba came their son, Solomon.

Thank you Lord, for the good you do through each of us and your grace which brings us back to your path when we stray.
 
 
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"All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say: I was a stranger and you welcomed me. Proper honor must be shown to all . . ." - Rule of St. Benedict Chapter 53

This chapter on the reception of guests seems to me to one of key points of Benedictine life. At the time of Benedict such hospitality could have been the difference between life and death. I think it often could be the same for us today. We are in a time of great interest in spirituality. Our own communities can be the home of literally more religions than we can count. The sad part is that Christianity is too often not counted among the spiritual choices in pre-Christians' search. Face it, we have a bad reputation. All too often we have brought it on ourselves. So when a stranger arrives in our midst there is an excellent possibility that they are desperately seeking for something to hold on to in time of crises. And our bad reputation means that we may be their very last place where they will go for help. If they are desperate, and do not receive a welcome we may not only lose the chance to share our faith. We may also send someone off on the path to suicide.

Our lack of welcome can take many forms. I have seen congregations where no one will talk to a visitor. I have seen others who great each person who comes through the door with a stack of offering envelopes and a request to serve on a committee. Sigh.

What happens when a stranger comes to our church? Do we grumble if they sit in our pew? What if they take our parking spot? Or perhaps we try to provide for their comfort in advance by posting signs to areas of the church, hint, the number one complaint is the lack of signs pointing out the restrooms. When someone seems unfamiliar with the service perhaps we could quietly pass them a service book turned to the right page. Maybe we could send someone to their home after worship to drop off a loaf of fresh baked bread, and not do it as an opportunity to get in the door, but simply to say "hello, you are welcome among us."

Several years ago I heard a stunning example of the type of hospitality Benedict described. A couple came to a strange city so one of them could undergo surgery. The day before the operation the dropped in to worship at a church they picked at random. At the church they were warmly welcomed. In the course of a conversation with one member, they mentioned the upcoming surgery. That evening, a member of the church called, told them they were praying for them, and offered to pray with them on the phone. They welcomed the offer. The next morning they arrived at the hospital to find a group from the church waiting for them both to pray again and to offer them any other assistance they might provide. The couple asked how they had known what hospital they would be at. There were many hospitals in the city and they had not mentioned in which hospital the surbery The answer, members of the congregation were waiting at each hospital in the city.

"I was a stranger and you welcomed me." If we can welcome like the congregation in this true story welcomed, we will be greeting our guests as if they were Jesus.
 
 
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"First of all, every time you begin a good work, you must pray to him most earnestly to bring it to perfection." - Prologue to the Rule of St. Benedict

Most of us want to do good things. A lot of us even try to do them. But I bet the vast majority of us, including me, forget to begin good works with prayer. When you think about that, it really seems amazing that we forget to pray like we do. Unfortunately I find lack of prayer in many churches. I have even chaired church boards who will debate the very future of their congregations willingly but who will object strenuously at the idea of bringing prayer into their deliberations. Note to members of my current congregation, I am not talking about you.

When I look inside myself, I have to admit I am equally guilty. All of this afternoon I have been working on my sermon for tomorrow. But I did not, until I began writing this blog entry, remember to stop and pray for God's guidance on the words I am writing. But I have stopped writing now to pray for our time of worship.

Being a Benedictine sure does not mean one is perfect. Being a Christian does not mean perfection either. There is only One who is perfect.  From now on I will earnestly endeavor to pray for at the start of any work for God's people. I pray you will too.
 
Good Zeal 07/17/2009
 
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"Thus they (the monks) should anticipate one another in honor (Rom. 12:10);
most patiently endure one another's infirmities,
whether of body or of character;
vie in paying obedience one to another --
no one following what he considers useful for himself,
but rather what benefits another." - St. Benedict's Rule, Chapter 72

Oblates hear about this chapter of the Rule quite frequently at St. Benedict's Abbey. We especially hear it read when a monk takes monastic vows. I always wonder what the universal church would be like if we could put these words into practice? Imagine a church where all the members anticipated each other with the honor Benedict describes.

Most of us think this goal is impossible. Most of us are right. It is impossible. Benedictines are just like anyone else. Among the monks and oblates of the Abbey we find people who rub us the wrong way. Of course there are times when we also get on other's nerves. And when we're irritated, or when we irritate others there are times we become slightly more than irritated. But in the midst of annoyance there is a feeling of holding back.  There is a knowledge of the fact that the one with whom we are angry is one of our brothers or sisters in Christ. So when anger slips out, we calm ourselves, call it back, and make amends.

Doing this is not easy. It is something we all will be practicing until the day we die. Perhaps the wider church can also take up the practice. How about it? That person we are now disagreeing with won't start it by himself or herself. So give it a try. Return anger with love. Will love always be returned to us? Probably not, but that is not the point. The point is to live and act as if the person we disagree with is Jesus.
 
Stability 07/16/2009
 

Next August, Saint Benedict's Abbey will celebrate it's twenty-fifth anniversary. Our Abbot refers to it as our "three month" anniversary. You see, when the Abbey was founded, people told the monks it would not last for three months. Yet twenty-five years later the Abbey's bells still call the community to the hours of prayer. Those bells have become so vital to the Abbey's neighbors that they call to check if everything is OK if the bells do not sound on time.

The continuing presence of the Abbey in the community is a visible, and audible, witness to Christ, to prayer, and to service to God's people. It is also a visible call to work and prayer for those who live within the cloister. Benedict insisted that his monks be rooted to one place. He said the only real monks were those "who belong to a monastery, where they serve under a rule and an abbot." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 1.

Before monks take their final vows, they talk to the community to tell them of their journey to this place. They also talk of their future. During this talk they invariably say, "this is the place where I will die." This decision is emphasized during the vows themselves when the monks find themselves prostrated before the altar, covered with a funeral pall. Their old ways are dead. They fully commit the rest of their lives to the monastic community.

For those of us who follow Benedict's Rule in the world, how do we show our stability to the world and ourselves? How do our Oblation promises enable us to hold fast to Christ during life's storms?  Mostly the Rule itself, and it's call to Christian life is the way we hold stable. The rule calls us to prayer, bids us to study,  reminds us of our call to radical hospitality, and instructs us to treat everyone we encounter as if they were Jesus.  We do not have the benefit of the Abbey's visible presence with us for most of our life. But we do have the Rule as a constant reminder to be stable in our walk with Christ.

 
 

"Your way of acting should be different from the world's way; the love of Christ must come before all else. You are not to act in anger or nurse a grudge." -Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 4.

How is our way different from the world's way? All too often I keep hearing the refrain from pre-Christians that they do not come to church because its filled with hypocrites. I tell them the standard answer that the church is a hospital for sinners and not a home for saints. But in my heart, I know they have a big point. People act in churches in ways that they would not dare act elsewhere. We attack others who disagree with us and call them evil sinners. It's no wonder that the church is the last place most postmoderns would come for help. They take one look at all our fights and decide its time to look for aid somewhere else.

Perhaps we should all reflect on Benedict's admonition. Think today, how is what I am doing different from the world's actions? Am I demonizing those who disagree with me over points of theology or the interpretation of scripture? How do my actions show that the  love of Christ comes before all else for me? And for all of us, myself included, if we cannot find a difference between our actions and the world's, we need to reflect on how we can change our ways.

 
Listen 07/14/2009
 

The very first word in St. Benedict's rule is "Listen."  He tells his readers, "Listen to the master's instructions, and attend to them with the ear 0f your heart." 

I have come to treasure this first word of the rule. It urges me to listen intently to those to whom I minister; to hear what is said and to hear what is left unsaid. Sometimes I think such listening is the most important task of a pastor.   Without it, how can we hope to pray, preach, or serve our congregations?

Benedict's admonition also reminds me to listen to those with whom I disagree. Much of the time it seems our modern debates consists of us shouting at each other. We do not hear what the other has to say. Perhaps we have closed our ears to it. Or perhaps we are in the midst of forming our own answers to what we think is being said.  Listening does not always mean we will agree with each other. But it might mean we can come to respect each other and to know the deep concerns of each other's hearts. If we do this we will find that it becomes very hard to demonize each other or to consider each other a person of evil. And if that happens it might lead to a much more peaceful world.

Next time you sit down with a parishioner, or with someone you disagree, please remember Benedict's first word. "Listen!"

 
 

I'm excited about this week. It's time for the annual Oblate gathering at Saint Benedict's Abbey, my spiritual home. I came to Saint Benedict's fairly soon after my ordination. As a Presbyterian, I had to give up my membership in a congregation for membership in a Presbytery. Now Presbyteries are very nice things. But most of them are not a completely nurturing spiritual body.

I came to the abbey prepared to be a bit suspicious. I fell in love with the place, and more importantly the community, in about three hours. I quickly found myself dipping into the river of prayer that runs through monastic communities; a river that began many centuries ago and runs forward to the distant future.

I always feel like I am coming home when I arrive at St. Benedict's. There is a sense of peace that overwhelms me the instant my car door opens.  But there is another reason why I love my community so much. The abbey's charism is the work of Christian unity. Our hope is that as Benedict predated our divisions, in Benedict's teaching of the way, we may once again be one. When we come together we find men and women who are Presbyterians, Roman Catholics, Old Catholics, Lutherans, Episcopalians, Brazilian Catholics, Anglicans, and Greek Orthodox. Anyone who follows Jesus is welcome in the community. Anyone who is Baptized is welcome at the Table. And all our causes for division? Those are left at the door. That which unites us is more important than that which divides us.

Would you like to find out more? Please ask, or check out the Abbey's website: www.SBAbbey.com.