Frank R. Fisher, Obl OSB
Sin 10/23/2009
 
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    "Live in fear of judgement day and have a great horror of hell. Yearn for everlasting life with holy desire. Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die. Hour by hour keep careful watch over all you do, aware that God's gaze is upon you, wherever you may be." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 4.

    Wow, what a thought. Who would want to spend every day of their life being afraid of hell and knowing that you may be judged at any instant? Some people look at these words and think monks are those who literally hate themselves; that they are people who withdraw from the world in order to concentrate on their self-hatred. Nothing could be further from the truth. Benedictine communities have often been gifted with their share of grumpy people. But the monks I know are more often brimming with love and life.

    Benedict's words simply remind us that we are broken. Sin is a natural state for us. You might even say that the doctrine of original sin simply points out that sin is not original. It is inherent in human beings. Reformed theology agrees with Benedict's point of view. The Presbyterian Church (USA) Book of Confessions reminds us that we are all capable of ultimate depravity. But if that is so, how can we avoid God's condemnation?

    There is an old story, one whose author has escaped me, about a man standing before the gates of heaven. St. Peter tells the man that a point system has been put in place. Each person must have earned one-hundred points in earthly life in order to get into heaven.  "Well," the man said, " I was a minister for fifty years." "That's one point," St. Peter replied. "I went on countless mission trips to the third world," the man said.  "That's very good," said St. Peter. "That's another point." "I sang in the church choir for all my career and even sang on key," the man desperately blurted. "Wonderful," said St. Peter. "That makes three points." In despair the man threw himself down before the gates and shouted, "only by the grace of God will I get in!" "That's one-hundred points," Peter replied.

    In order to fully follow Jesus we must keep in mind our total dependence on God's grace. We do not earn salvation on our own. Only by the grace of God will we ever be allowed to approach the throne. But thanks be to God, that we have been gifted with God's grace.
 
 
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    "It is well known that there are four kinds of monks. The first kind is that of Cenobites, that is, the monastic, who live under a rule and an Abbot.

The second kind is that of Anchorites, or Hermits, that is, of those who, no longer in the first fervor of their conversion, but taught by long monastic practice and the help of many brethren, have already learned to fight against the devil; and going forth from the rank of their brethren well trained for single combat in the desert, they are able, with the help of God, to cope single-handed without the help of others, against the vices of the flesh and evil thoughts." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 1.

    We who live in the United States are immersed in a culture of individualism. Take a look at our cultural heros and myths. Among them you'll find the cowboy, the lone wanderer on the range and the frontiersman, the person pushing the borders of the country outward but who will not tolerate civilization, or the gun fighter, the ruthless, or heroic, man who makes a stand by himself against all odds. The religious life of our country has the same myths. I have lost count of the people who tell me they worship God in nature. "I can be more in touch with God in the woods, than in a church."

    The problem is, the myths are false. They place us in situations where we begin to believe that it is bad to depend on others. But the truth is, we are social animals. We find definition in community. It is no accident that among the more barbaric tortures used in the "war on terror" isolation is king. When we are isolated we begin to lose our way. Eventually we begin to hallucinate and eventually we can become psychotic.

    It was not an accident that Benedict spoke of those who lived in isolation as a means of following Christ as ones who had first lived in community. The common rule I have heard is that a monk would only be allowed to live in isolation after being in community for twenty-five years. Only then could they have developed sufficient stability to withstand isolation.

    When we allow the myth of seeking God by oneself to flourish we are hurting those who believe it. A frequent cliche is that a fire burns brightly on a hearth. But if you take out a single flaming branch, and put it by itself, the fire in it will go out. As is the case for many cliches there is truth in the statement. The Spirit's fire blazes in us more brightly when we blaze with one another.

    Yes, you can encounter God in the forest or in prayer by oneself. But unless that is a reflection of the worship of God in community, it is a pale imitation. If you are seeking God alone, I pray you, begin in the company of others. You can find some of those others at Benedictine abbeys, including St. Benedict's Abbey, http://www.SBAbbey.com.

    May Christ bless your way and the way you travel with others.
 
 
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    "Reading must not be wanting at the table of the brethren when they are eating. Neither let anyone who may chance to take up the book venture to read there; but let him who is to read for the whole week enter upon that office on Sunday. After Mass and Communion let him ask all to pray for him that God may ward off from him the spirit of pride. And let the following verse be said three times by all in the oratory, he beginning it: Domine, labia mea aperies, et os meum annuntiabit laudem tuam (Oh Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise) (Ps 50[51]:17), and thus having received the blessing let him enter upon the reading.

    Let the deepest silence be maintained that no whispering or voice be heard except that of the reader alone. But let the brethren so help each other to what is needed for eating and drinking, that no one need ask for anything. If, however, anything should be wanted, let it be asked for by means of a sign of any kind rather than a sound. And let no one presume to ask any questions there, either about the book or anything else, in order that no cause to speak be given [to the devil] (Eph 4:27; 1 Tm 5:14), unless, perchance, the Superior wisheth to say a few words for edification.

Let the brother who is reader for the week take a little bread and wine before he beginneth to read, on account of Holy Communion, and lest it should be too hard for him to fast so long. Afterward, however, let him take his meal in the kitchen with the weekly servers and the waiters. The brethren, however, will not read or sing in order, but only those who edify their hearers." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 38.

    Our modern culture does not like silence. If you don't believe me, ask your pastor to arrange a time in worship where there is no sound. Then take a look around during that time and watch everyone fidget. Even song lyrics, the ones from The Sound of Silence that kicked off a lot of the changes that have impacted our society have decried a time without noise.

        "Fools said I ,you do not know
        Silence like a cancer grows.
        Hear my words that I might teach you,
        Take my arms that I might reach you.
        But my words like silent raindrops fell,
        And echoed
        In the wells of silence." - Simon and Garfunkel

    In a Benedictine community a very counter culture thing is encouraged - silence. This is most apparent at meals. There is no speaking except the words of the one reading from the words of the Church Fathers or from other readings aiding spiritual growth.  In the silence, in the midst of readings about our relationship with our Creator, interesting things occur. The most interesting to me is the reverence with which people treat each other. Without words, everyone begins to interact with each other in an attitude of complete respect. No word is spoken while the meal is served, condiments are passed, and the remnants are collected. A lot of what seems to be unconscious bowing occurs. Utmost care is offered, both to the word being spoken, and to those hearing it.

    If we approach silence as a means to be open to the leading of God's Spirit, something does grow within us. But it is not something like a cancer. Instead the respect for the holy and for each other seems to blossom. It seems one is never closer to God, and to our brothers and sisters, when we stop letting our words get in the way.

    Would you like to experience this type of silence? Check out http://www.SBAbbey.com, or Google for a near by Benedictine abbey. The Holy One is there waiting for you in the silence
 
 
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    "As the Prophet saith: "Seven times a day I have given praise to Thee" (Ps 118[119]:164), this sacred sevenfold number will be fulfilled by us in this wise if we perform the duties of our service at the time of Lauds, Prime, Tierce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Complin; because it was of these day hours that he hath said: "Seven times a day I have given praise to Thee" (Ps 118[119]:164). For the same Prophet saith of the night watches: "At midnight I arose to confess to Thee" (Ps 118[119]:62). At these times, therefore, let us offer praise to our Creator "for the judgments of His justice;" namely, at Lauds, Prime, Tierce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Complin; and let us rise at night to praise Him (cf Ps 118[119]:164, 62)." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 16.

    Have you ever gone swimming in a river? I have and its quite an experience. During high school my youth group went white water canoeing in many of the rivers of Wisconsin. And of course being in a canoe also meant being in the water. There were times when the canoe tipped over and we ended up in the drink. There were other times, when the water level was very low, when I would have to jump out of the canoe into the water and push the canoe, carrying my girl friend through the worst parts of rapids. Naturally there were other times when the whole group jumped into the water for the very joy of it.

    There's something about swimming in a river that's different than swimming in a lake or pool. The difference is the current. At times the current may be quite sluggish. You can take your time drifting over the waters, jump in and swim, or dig in your paddle to push your way ahead. There are other times, such as one I remember when I think about canoeing over a small waterfall, when the exhilaration of the moment sends your spirit soaring. And there are times when you must frantically fight your way past the rocks of the rapids and/or end up thrown into the water.

    When I came to St. Benedict's Abbey, I experienced monastic prayer for the first time. For thousands of years women and men have gathered in their oratories (that means chapel for most of the rest of us). At the same times every day they have prayed to God and raised their voices in song to praise their Creator. The monastic use of the Psalms extends this prayer back through our connection to Judaism to connect with all those who followed God before the time when our Lord walked the earth.  When our bodies have returned to dust and our souls to God, monastics will still be praying the same prayers we pray now at the same times we now pray.

    To me, this prayer is a river. The current of  voices raised in prayer started long before my parents parents parents walked the earth. And it will extend far, far into the future. When I join in praying the daily office of prayer, whether I am at the abbey or at home, I find myself entering that river. If I let myself feel it, I sense a joining into a rhythm that really is not connected to time. It flows from creation to our reunion with our Creator.

    There are times in this river of prayer where I feel soul leaping toward God in delight. At other times I plod and try to push myself forward through times that are stagnant. Or perhaps I simply rest in the quiet and enjoy my time with God. In bad times, in prayer I feel God pushing me ahead and sheltering me from the rocks in my life. Of course there are also times when I feel my life has tipped over and I reach out to my Savior for help.

    Today, many who are seeking a way for their Spirit, are looking for something timeless; something that has been before them and will be after them; something both awesome in power and delicate in touch. If that someone is you, I suggest you explore the tradition of praying  the hours of prayer. You can try it on your own, but to really experience it I suggest you check out a nearby Benedictine convent or monastery. There you will find the river running from the Creator's heart. May you be blessed in the wonder and delight of it's waters.
 
 
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    "Let us do what the Prophet says: 'I said, 'I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue. I have set a guard to my mouth. I was mute and was humbled, and kept silence even from good things'  (Ps. 38[39]:2-3). Here the Prophet shows that if the spirit of silence ought to lead us at times to refrain even from good speech, so much the more ought the punishment for sin make us avoid evil words.

    Therefore, since the spirit of silence is so important, permission to speak should rarely be granted even to perfect disciples, even though it be for good, holy edifying conversation; for it is written, 'In much speaking you will not escape sin" (Prov. 10:19), and in another place,  Death and life are in the power of the tongue' (Prov. 18:21). " - Rule of Saint Benedict, Chapter 6.

    Well that portion of the rule is interesting, isn't it? We are supposed to shut up . . . forever.  Actually I don't agree with that statement. Benedict was a realist. He intrinsically knew the value of silence.  But he knew monastics are human. He knew we would laugh and joke and screw around. But he wanted us to do better than what we are.

    At Saint Benedict's Abbey the Great Silence falls after compline. No word is spoken for hours until at Vigils the words arise, "O Lord open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise." And I confess that as an Oblate I have sometimes not embraced this silence. As Oblates, even when we are at the site of our monastic community, we are apart. We live in different spaces. And so, when are  apart from the monks, we often do not hold to the Great Silence, we do not recognize the incredible opportunity in our lives. And when we do that, I somehow know I have lost something important.

    In my life outside the abbey, I find myself, as an interim pastor, in a place where I am apart from my family. I find myself living alone and I often try desperately to fill that space with the noise of the TV or radio.  But when I do listen to Benedict, I begin to understand. If I silence the noise I use to fill the loneliness of being apart from my wife and children, I begin to feel something unexpected. I feel, in the silence, the presence of the Lord of Creation who speaks to me. I must admit I have experienced no huge revelations, and no blinding visions. But I do feel, in the absence of noise, the One who called me by name at the beginning of time.

    Thank you Benedict. You teach us to shut up and listen. You knew God would touch us even more in the midst of silence.
 
Humility 09/04/2009
 
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    "The sixth step of humility is that a monk is content with the lowest and most menial treatment, and regards himself as a poor and worthless workman in whatever task he is given, saying to himself with the Prophet, I am insignificant and ignorant, no better than a beast before you, yet I am with you always. - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 7.

    Hey, that's a challenging statement, isn't it? We live in an age where we are measured by success.  The more money you make, the better person you are! Of course it doesn't seem to matter too much how you make that money. We idealize the rich and the famous. We want the huge house with two Mercedes' in the drive way. Forget about humility, its for the losers.

    Too often the same attitude appears in our churches. We see rich pastors who seem to blab a lot on television about Jesus but seem to care more about money. And the rest of us, hey, we are equally guilty. Every minister wants to think their preaching is unmatched. We want our congregants to gush about our pastoral care, even if it means we eliminate our time with our families to make our congregants proud of us. The list here could go on and on, but confess it, we are just as success driven as everyone else in our society.

    Maybe we all need to do some thinking about the One who told us that the last would be first. He also told us the great ones were the ones who became servants of all.

    Lord, help us to become servants; humbles ones who know our weaknesses and admit our imperfections. Help us to embrace the path of humility and in doing so, follow directly in your way. Amen and Amen
 
Impossible Tasks 08/31/2009
 
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This blog entry was written by Father Harold, the Oblate Director at St. Benedict's Abbey in Bartonville, Illinois and is posted here with his permission.

"If, perchance, any difficult or impossible tasks be enjoined on a brother, let him nevertheless receive the order of him who commandeth with all meekness and obedience. If, however, he see that the gravity of the task is altogether beyond his strength, let him quietly and seasonably submit the reasons for his inability to his Superior, without pride, protest, or dissent. If, however, after his explanation the Superior still insisteth on his command, let the younger be convinced that so it is good for him; and let him obey from love, relying on the help of God." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 68

 Yes! It ties very well with my recent activity as the baker of the Abbey! At first it seemed like a manageable task... Bake enough bread for two outlets every weekend- and leave some additional loaves for our visitors on Sundays. Then the summer came, and with that two more markets were added and the amount of bread to be baked became monumental! Now things got really out of hand… I had to choose between my timing in putting cinnamon raisin bread in the oven and Morning Prayer! Then the thoughts begin to cripple… “Am I against the rule if I miss prayers?” “Do I tell the abbot that I can’t do this work on my own?” “Do I quit altogether?”

Then I faced myself with the best part of this chapter: “trusting in God’s help…” Yes, of course! Just like the Psalm that says: “let your heart take courage, trust in the Lord!” or the word of the prophet that says: “trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge HIM…”

So then, what could I answer to those previous trivial questions? Well, first, if I can’t make it to any of the offices, Benedict instructs me to: “kneel right where you are and offer due worship to God.” Instead of complaining about the fact that there is no one to help me, perhaps I can ask whether there be someone out there willing to help; instead of giving up altogether, why not offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and make good use of my vows to the Most High! Or as a plate Brother Richard gifted me says in Spanish, “There’s no better philosophy than to work happily!” Besides, St. Benedict reassures me also by saying: “they are truly monks, who work by their hands.”

So… have you a difficult task ahead of you? Have you figured out by now, that it is easier to “give up” and through your hands in the air, than to actually give it a try? Have you thought that your efforts could bring a more positive outcome to the situation than any misconception you might have about the whole thing- whatever that “thing” is?

The other day I had to counsel a teacher, who thought that going back to a south Peoria school could be compared to facing demons and warlocks, rather than actual students. I try to reassure her by explaining that, for a boxer, facing an opponent is the least of his worries- losing the title and the ton of money is! So what do they say when interviewed? “I’ll prove it in the ring!” In other words… “I’ll show you what I am capable of in the arena.”  (a.k.a. school, work-place, etc.)

Therefore, I exhort you to look at a challenge (and face your demons) with an objective eye, after all… you have the best trainer in the world (GOD!)

“If God is for us, who can be against us!!!”


 
 
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"Therefore, he who has taken the name of Abbot is obliged to govern his disciples by a twofold manner of preaching; that is, he should show forth all that is good and holy by his deeds rather than by his words, so that he may declare the commands of the Lord to his docile subjects by words; but to the hard of heart, however, and to the less intelligent, let him demonstrate the divine precepts by his deeds. And let him show by his own actions that those things ought not to be done which he has taught his disciples to be against the law of God, lest, while preaching to others, he himself should be rejected, and God should say to him in reproach for his sin: "Why dost thou declare My statutes and have My covenant in thy mouth, thou that hatest discipline and hast cast My words behind thee?" And again, "Why dost thou see the speck in thy brother's eye, and yet dost not consider the beam in thy own eye?" - Rule of Saint Benedict, Chapter 2.

    Those of us in the world might not think this section of the rule applies to us. But when you think about it, the vast majority of us have authority and responsibility that is very similar to an Abbot's in some portion of our life. Pastors serve in ways like this role in their congregations. Parents are the abbot's of their children, at least when the children are young. Those in the work place frequently have authority over other workers.

    No matter the part of our life where we serve as abbots, we are watched. All parents know that their children are watching them constantly. They'll notice any inconsistency between what we say and what we do. When they find it, and they will find it, they pounce on it. 

    It is the same way with pastors in their congregations. How many of us preach and act in the same way for every moment of our lives? And for all Christians, those in the pre-Christian world are always measuring us against the teachings of Jesus. When we stray from those teachings they rightly call us hypocrites. Unfortunately they also use our actions as an excuse to exclude the Way from their spiritual search.

    Most of us are inconsistent people. But despite our inconsistencies I think we can attempt to follow Benedict's teachings. There's a story told by Herbert Prochnow that illustrates what I mean.

    "A stranger came walking along the dusty road, opened the gate, walked up the path to the door of the farmhouse and knocked. The farmer’s wife answered the door. She expected  to see a neighborhood friend, but it was a stranger standing there.

    He asked, 'Does God live here?’ The woman was perplexed and dumbfounded. She  didn’t answer. Again the stranger asked, 'Does God live here?' But the woman was so confused she again  couldn’t answer. For a third time  the man asked, 'Does God live here?’ And again,  there was no answer, Instead the woman  slammed the door, and ran out of the back door. The man shook his head, turned  and walked away.

    After he was gone, the woman ran into the barn, where her husband was working, and excitedly told him of the strange visitor. He blustered and floundered for words until he finally said, 'Well, didn’t you tell him we belong to church?’ 'No,’ answered the woman,'that wasn’t what he asked.’"

    Benedict asks those in the position of abbot to live in a way that shows to others that Jesus lives in us; a way that demonstrates that God does live here. Can we be perfect at this? No, we aren't Jesus. But we can measure our actions by the way Jesus acted, and when we slip, we can turn around and begin again to live like God does indeed live in us.
 
 
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"Making due allowance for circumstances, the brethren will rise during the winter season, that is, from the calenders of November till Easter, at the eighth hour of the night; so that, having rested till a little after midnight, they may rise refreshed. The time, however, which remains over after the night office (Matins) will be employed in study by those of the brethren who still have some parts of the psalms and the lessons to learn.

    But from Easter to the aforesaid calenders, let the hour for celebrating the night office (Matins) be so arranged, that after a very short interval, during which the brethren may go out for the necessities of nature, the morning office (Lauds), which is to be said at the break of day, may follow presently." - Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 8.

    I am a night person. But I am NOT a morning person. My spouse and children will attest to this fact. Left to my natural schedule I would be up until the time of Vigils, the service of prayer held by many Benedictine abbeys in the middle of the night. But if I were up at Vigils, I would not be up at Lauds, the first prayer of the new day; the time when the great silence is broken by the words, "O Lord open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise."

    Over the years I have adapted to being up early. Lauds, in fact, is now my major time for prayer. But until recently the idea of doing both Vigils and Lauds, was beyond my comprehension. That is, it was beyond my comprehension until I was hospitalized several years ago.

    Due to what eventually was revealed as an incorrect diagnosis, I was placed in a cardiac step down unit. During the middle of the night my roommate, a person who really did need the care provided by the hospital, began to hallucinate. He would repeatedly talk to nurses who were not there. I might add these conversations continued at length. By the middle of the night, I had quite given up hope of finding a time for sleep. At first I was simply annoyed. But then I began to actually listen to my roommate's conversations with the imaginary nurses. I discovered he was asking them for help to relieve pain. Upon realizing that, I pushed the call button and told the nurses that my roommate needed help.  Help came quickly. But by that time I was very awake. And instead of inducing a desire for sleep, I sat up in bed and began to pray the Psalms.

    The Psalms stayed with me for several hours until at last, with my roommate's pain relieved, I was able to go to sleep. I groggily awoke the next day and was sent home. But I was sent home with a new understanding of Vigils. While most of us are sleeping, abbeys across the world are arising from their rest to pray. They are praying for us! They lift us up to God in prayer while we slumber unaware of their efforts. Perhaps their prayers draw God's attention to us who are in need, just as I drew the attention of the nursing staff to my hospital roommate.  

    As you go to bed tonight, realize that around the world, women and men are arising from sleep and lifting your needs up to God in prayer. In gratitude for that ministry, I pray Vigils with them. I admit I do not pray at this hour as frequently as our sisters and brothers in abbeys pray. But when I awake in the middle of the night, I join them in prayer. I hope you will join them too.
 
 
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"So, brothers and sisters, we have asked the Lord who is to dwell in His tent, and we have heard His commands to anyone who would dwell there; it remains for us to fulfill those duties.

Therefore we must prepare our hearts and our bodies to do battle under the holy obedience of His commands; and let us ask God that He be pleased to give us the help of His grace for anything which our nature finds hardly possible. And if we want to escape the pains of hell and attain life everlasting, then, while there is still time, while we are still in the body and are able to fulfill all these things by the light of this life, we must hasten to do now what will profit us for eternity" -Prologue to the Rule of St. Benedict

The Irish call some places, "thin places." Thin places are those where the presence of God is so strong you almost feel you can reach out to touch the Creator. Or perhaps, thin places are places where the Creator reaches out to touch us.  Throughout my life I have found thin places in churches, in nature, in my home, and of course in the abbey. 

Benedict wanted abbeys to be thin places, places where the Kingdom of God touched earth; places where monks and guests dwelt in the nearest thing to the presence of God to be found on earth. Like any human institution abbeys are imperfect. In their imperfection the Kingdom can seen present to a lessor or greater degree. But it always feels present. It always feels like a place where Christ dwells. This adaptation of a story told by M Scott Peck speaks about an  abbey where Christ came to fully dwell.