Category: Church

A Constant Companion

I remember well when I first moved as a monk. I had just finished my novitiate, had made my temporal vows, and had spent some time working in the Abbey’s guest kitchen, school, and archives. My next step was to begin the studies of philosophy and theology in Würzburg, just 15 miles away, but still far enough away to let me feel sadness because I had to leave the monastery and community I had chosen to be my home. As monks, we feel deeply connected with the place where we live, having taken the vow of “stability”. And here I was, I couldn’t stay but had to move on. In this situation, as so often, I found comfort in our liturgy:

HE is before all things. By HIM all things consist. (Col 1:17)

These words struck me. Jesus is the one who lasts no matter what changes happen to me or around me. So I wrote this sentence on a small piece of paper, in Latin, because it made sense to me – it was a deeper way to express my longing for stability: Omnia in ipso constant – by Him all things consist. In my new room, I put this little piece of paper on my desk, and looking at it, I knew I was at home.

Little did I know that as a Missionary Benedictine I had to move more often. After five years, I moved back to the Abbey. After three more years as teacher, I was granted to work on my doctorate in Tübingen. The little piece of paper went with me. It had become a bit feeble. I loved that this continuity was written on a fragile piece of paper. To hold on to Jesus is not a heroic act, but a humble, weak, longing, seeking, attempt to be with the one who never changes. Certainly, it went with me to America six years ago. This time I forgot to put it on my desk, maybe because I had learned to internalize its truth.

At this moment, I find myself at a new calling in Italy. I will begin to serve as Prior of Sant’Anselmo Abbey in Rome shortly. While packing, the little piece of paper fell into my hands again, and I was delighted. The writing has faded, one can hardly read it. I share this with all those of you who are undergoing changes, wanted or not wanted, and are seeking for a foothold. Here He is: “In HIM all things consist.” HE has been there before; even before things that could change existed.

Dear Lord, let me return to you, over and over again. When serious changes happen in my life, or even if nothing seems to change, you always stand. Let me stand by you. It is safe ground, peaceful, hopeful. Wherever you are, there is home. Thank you very much, dear Lord.

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Tenderness and Authority

Christian de Chergé, Trappist monk of an Algerian monastery, described his friend with these words:

He loved me with the benevolent but inexorable authority of a father, and also with the indulgent and somewhat nervous tenderness of a mother.*

The qualities of this friend just resonated with me. How much I would love to be this way: to be tender like a mother. I remember this nervousness of an aunt of mine, as she journeyed with her daughters through the craziness of their puberty. It was pure expression of love. I very much feel attracted by the fatherly quality, too. Authority is a difficult thing nowadays. We hardly believe that authority can be benevolent. But still, we long for this rock who is gracious and at the same time inexorable.

Upon reflection, I realize how much these qualities were embodied in Jesus–when he cared for his friends after Lazarus died and when he talked to the sinners, the sick, and the outcast. You can see God’s tenderness for us at work. But there was also his authority. People said he was speaking with authority unlike the scribes. I see Jesus walking away as people try to stone him. His mission was inexorable. I see him announcing his suffering even when his disciples didn’t want to hear it. He would not waver from his call.

In the confusion of today’s gender discussion, we often forget about those good qualities of both a father and a mother. We don’t trust that we really can develop them as they are given to us by God. Moreover, we cannot imagine that both go together, the indulgent tenderness and the inexorable authority.

Lord, I need you. I need both the tender and the firm from you. I need your caress, your closeness, your compassion and love. And I need you as my rock, the one who is inexorable, who cannot be stopped, who cannot be moved, the one who is big enough that I can be straightened up by you and grow with you. I thank you for giving your life to me.

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* L’autre que nous attendons, 455. In: Christian Salenson, A Theology of Hope, 26. The context of this sentence does not indicate clearly of whom Fr. Christian is actually talking, whether of his Muslim friend Mohammed who saved his life during the Algerian war, or of Christ. He is definitely talking about a Christ-like quality. Fr. Christian, holding on to his monastic and Christian vocation, was kidnapped and murdered in 1996.

What Can God Do For You?

Jesus sees the blind man and asks: What do you want me to do for you? (Mk 10:51) Does he not realize that the man wants to regain his eyesight? How can he be so un-sympathetic? We encounter here the difference between being sympathetic and empathetic. Being sympathetic is feeling compassion and pity for another, which is a good thing, but the empathetic puts himself in the place of the other without mingling his own ideas, advice or even personal issues with the one in need. “I feel so sorry for you. You know, I once had the same problem; this is how I would solve it …” Empathy, instead, stands respectfully before the other individual. St. Benedict says in his Rule:

Precaution must be taken that no monk presume on any occasion to defend another in the monastery [præsumat alter alium defendere] or as it were to take him under his protection, even if they are related by the closest ties of blood.  Rule of St. Benedict 69:1

What sounds harsh is rather St. Benedict trusting deeply that Christ dwells in everyone so that His life, His truth, and His grace will finally come forward and prevail. We tend to make the case of others our own case very quickly. We band together and fight for certain goals, often as long as our lives are not really touched. We don’t notice that we do our own thing, assuming and presuming. Jesus acts differently. He truly tends to the person and gets involved, but lets the blind man still have the control. He is not patronizing him. Empathy respects boundaries. It is not me who knows best what the other needs. It is he or she herself. Or shouldn’t we rather say: it is God. Like Jesus we can become channels of God’s love for others. If the blind man sadly would prefer to stay blind, Jesus would respect it. Jesus follows whatever the man wants God to do for him.

Christ, help me to listen. What is my brother, my sister actually saying when they talk to me? What does the other really need? Let me respect the intimacy that is between you and him. Let me be engaged to the fullest and at the same time stay totally out of the way, and mind my own business. I don’t have the answer. You have it. You will care for him as you care for me.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

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I was working at my desk trying to finish up something when the bell rang. That is nothing special in a monastery; the bell rings five times a day to call us monks to prayer. This time, though, as sometimes happens, I caught myself having a little inner discussion:  should I go instantly to Midday Prayer, or should I rather continue working for two or three minutes? I would still make it to church in time. What didn’t seem to be a big deal at all, and certainly not a question of life and death, is still of interest for Saint Benedict:

“On hearing the signal for an hour of the divine office, the monk will immediately set aside what he has in hand and go with utmost speed, yet with gravity and without giving occasion for frivolity. Indeed, nothing is to be preferred to the Work of God.” RB 43:1-3

My father used to say: “Obedience means: do it immediately”. I didn’t like to hear that because he always said it when I was not following right away. This very moment, when I hear the call of the bell, holds a great opportunity. It invites my soul to decide: Do I follow God’s call or not? Whom do I follow? Christ, or my own to-do-list? “The first step of humility is unhesitating obedience, which comes naturally to those who cherish Christ above all”, St. Benedict says in his chapter on obedience (RB 5:1-2), and he points to this holy moment:

“Almost at the same moment, as the master gives the instruction the disciple quickly puts it into practice in the fear of God; and both actions together are swiftly completed as one”. RB 5:9

In the midst of my day-to-day activities I am offered to let my ego die and become ONE with God. The readiness with which I follow is an expression of my surrendering to God. No excuses; nothing more important than Him; everything to be left behind. What if I miss the opportunity of this moment? In the monastery, we are not practicing compulsiveness. Not much later the bell will ring again for another prayer time. Another chance to follow the inner voice, the conscience. Another chance to surrender.

Lord, you praised the Roman officer because of the swiftness of his following. Give me the freedom to trust deeply that nothing is more important NOW than YOU. It is so freeing to follow you. Thank you for the bell. It tolls for me.