Unfeigned Love To Superiors

Many of us – in one way or another – have superiors, directors, bosses. It’s interesting how St. Benedict wants to see the relationship to superiors from the point of view of subordinates. He says, “To their abbot the monks should have unfeigned and humble love” (RB 72:10).

This makes me think that sometimes we fake our “love” for superiors in our own favor. And we have our reasons for doing so: We expect benefits. Or we want to protect ourselves by not showing what we really think and feel. We have had bad experiences with being honest with them. So Benedict’s recommendation sounds like quite a challenge.

His advice can certainly only be understood in a monastic context. Here there is a community, a spiritual community. Its leader is elected and is to take the place of Christ. It is Christ whom we are to love humbly and sincerely. But we can also learn something from Benedict in the general context. If we are not honest in our relationship with our superiors, they cannot learn, they cannot grow, the company or organization they serve cannot progress. Instead, if we speak our minds humbly and not opinionatedly, humility will protect us. I think this is especially important in the church context. How do we speak to our pastors, to our bishops, to people in a “higher” spiritual position? There are too many yes-men. There are people who cultivate a kind of courtly behavior. One says “yes” to the superior when he says “yes”, one says “no” when he says “no”. You can recognize kippers. They tip over. Their backs are not straight. The Latin word for unfeigned sincera is translated in German as aufrichtig, which means upright.

The first Christians spoke sincerely and frankly, as we often hear in the Acts of the Apostles (e.g., Acts 13:46). They presented themselves with the boldness and courage that the Holy Spirit gave them. “But it is something we cannot understand how these people are so courageous, they have this boldness” (Acts 4:13). When we speak, we should have more respect for God, who really has power over us, than for people who depend on God. Benedict invites us to be genuine and straightforward.

Lord, give me the courage to be frank when I speak. Give me the wisdom to be prudent. Build your Church among us by creating a network of people who are sincere with each other. Give me and all who have leadership roles the humility to truly serve and learn from those for whom we are responsible. Send your Holy Spirit and fill us with his gifts!

Growing Joy

There are different kinds of joy. There is the exuberant jubilation. Like the soccer players at the end of the game, after the victory, jumping, dancing, splashing prosecco. The joy is so great that one does not even know how to express it adequately. I once discovered a different kind of joy in the liturgy, which I later found in reality. This, by the way, is typical and a meaning of liturgy: it opens our eyes, increases our capacity to perceive the immense richness of reality. What millions of forefathers and foremothers have expressed in their songs and rituals, we do not have to invent from scratch, we can learn from them, benefit from them and their experience with God.

I first noticed this while practicing the introit of Easter: “Resurrexi et adhuc tecum sum.” The melody is very measured, almost timid. One wonders, “Hey, it’s Easter, rejoice! Why so hesitant?” The answer is, because you have come from a journey. Because you have a story. Jesus came from the experience of exclusion, betrayal, suffering, torture, crucifixion. You don’t just get up and jump. The rising “needed three days.” Communicating the good news also takes time: the disciples didn’t get it right away, the joy of Jesus’ resurrection took time to be understood, time to be celebrated and expressed.

When we go through deep sorrow, when we are confronted with severe problems, and when God finally – unexpectedly – delivers us from this distress, we need a little time; our body needs time, our soul needs time to understand, to let it sink in. The joy comes slowly – but: this is the greatest, most complete, deepest joy of all. This silent joy, which is ready to grow, cannot be stopped. It is like a small flower that begins to grow tenderly and subtly, but becomes large.

Dear God, I look forward to the next experience of joy. I look forward to when you surprise me with either jubilation or quietly growing joy. I pray for all who are in great need, who are suffering, who are grieving, who are sad. Deliver them and let their joy return, slowly but surely. Thank you, dear Lord, for the joy of Easter, for the joy of the risen Lord.

The Armor of Light

A friend recently shared with me the difficulties he has at work—toxic atmosphere, disrespect of rules, bullying, and filthy relationships—and he was wondering how to deal with it. As we were talking, St. Paul came to mind with his expression “armor of light” (Rom 13:12). In the letter to the Ephesians, he explains:

“Finally, draw your strength from the Lord and from his mighty power. Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm against the tactics of the devil. For our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens. (…) So stand fast with your loins girded in truth, clothed with righteousness as a breastplate, and your feet shod in readiness for the gospel of peace. In all circumstances, hold faith as a shield, to quench all flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” (6:10-17)

 When we think of weapons, we usually don’t think of truth, righteousness, faith, salvation, and the word of God. What different kind of weapons! If we fight with the weapons of darkness, the situation will continue to be dark. Wounds on all sides will increase; grief and wish for revenge will grow. Instead, if we fight back with the weapons of light, light will come onto the scene. We are not supposed to not defend ourselves, because it is evil that we encounter. The question is how we defend ourselves.

“Let us then throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.” Rom 13:12

 This is the other way to respond to difficult situations, a way that really helps us to exit the spiral of negativity and violence. Faith, truth, and the word of God is what make us truly strong. This is what protects us. Faith is powerful.

Lord, let me learn to use the weapons of light. I yearn for light and peace. Let me stick with my faith, especially in difficult situations. Let me meditate your word so as to be ready to respond. Let me not be afraid to follow the truth. Let me pursue righteousness. And let me believe that you are the salvation, that you have saved us, that you have already won the battle! On earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

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Truly Born to Be Wild

For a long time, I thought my last name “Wilde” meant “wild” in the sense of “not civilized, uncultivated, not domesticated, chaotic”. Only recently did I find out that in the German language “wild” originally signifies a “stranger”. People coming from unknown places were considered to be “wild”. Strangers, whose behavior, customs, language, traditions, were not familiar and did not match with accustomed expectations. Monks are born to be wild. “You should become a stranger to the world’s ways [Saeculi actibus se facere alienum]”, says St. Benedict in his Rule. And he adds the reason: “The love of Christ must come before all else.” (Rule of St. Benedict 4:20-21). He is pretty outspoken; he disqualifies those who are “still loyal to the world by their actions; they clearly lie to God by their tonsure.” (Rule 1:7).

Well, I don’t have my hair tonsured, but I wear a habit. So, lying is possible. How can I be wild? How can I become a stranger to this world? I am part of this world!  I realize how much energy I spend to be up-to-date, to go with the trend, to stay assimilated, to keep up with what is expected from me. Jesus words instead sound like a warm invitation to trust the roots I have in heaven. “My kingdom does not belong to this world.” (John 18:36), he says, and draws the consequence for us, his disciples: “They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.” (John 17:18). Jesus came as stranger and became our best friend.

It still frightens me a little bit. The first monks were wild; so were the prophets. The Saints were wild, like St. Jerome. Jesus was wild. I admire them and know that I am far away from this freedom and wildness. But I hear their call. I feel that everybody is truly born to be wild, not only monks.

Christ, help me to be wild. Take away from me the fear not to be like the others. Let me enjoy that I am different and strengthen in me the awareness that I come from God. Get me away from all that is clinging to me, from everything I am too much attached to. Give me the courage to enter the wilderness and stay there. And open my heart to my true call.

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Paolo Caliari (1585/90) – Saint Jerome in the wilderness