“Therefore we intend to establish a school for the Lord’s service. In drawing up its regulations, we hope to set down nothing harsh, nothing burdensome. The good of all concerned, however, may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to safeguard love.” —Rule of St. Benedict
My nature tends toward strictness. I often need to loosen up, slow down, and cut myself slack. If it were up to my psyche, prayer—and the spiritual life in general—would likely be reduced to strict discipline, combined with inevitable self-flagellation and shame when I don’t measure up. That’s why I value sixth-century St. Benedict of Nursia’s approach to the contemplative life. He prioritizes balance in community according to individual need.
Balance has long been a core tenet of Benedictine spirituality. The rhythm of days for Benedictine monks is carefully orchestrated with time for praying Psalms, work, and meditative reading of Scripture and spiritual books. Work and prayer, or “Ora et Labora,” goes the motto. Benedict knew that a life of prayer needed also to involve embodied work on behalf of the community. Contemplation is not about me but how I serve as part of a whole. Former Benedictine Luigi Giola monk and theologian puts it this way:
Benedictine wisdom, summarized as “ora et labora” (“prayer and work”), manifests itself not only in the ordering of common prayer but also in that of food, sleep, manual work, and clothing.” (13, Saint Benedict’s Wisdom).
Benedictine balance is refreshingly earthy and attentive to the mundane details of life. In the instructions for the “cellarer” or monk responsible for meals, supplies, and so forth, Benedict urges the person to “regard all utensils and goods of the monastery as sacred vessels of the altar.” The ordinary is holy, from crusty, used pots to fresh kale.
The emphasis on balance in Benedictine spirituality is needed because our lives are so often profoundly out of balance. Whether it is our overwork, incessant activity, a relentless schedule or simply checking our phones all the time, our feverish pace and fractured attention ensures that we remain unmoored. These days of democratic disdain and authoritarian aggression in the United States have me perpetually tempted to stay informed about every new political development, reading as much commentary as I can muster. How often have I said “just a minute” to my children when skimming yet another article on my phone?
Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash
To find Benedictine-inspired balance is to interrupt our obsessions. When the prayer bell rings in the monastery, you drop whatever project you are working on and go to eat lunch, or head to the chapel to chant Psalms. The prayer bell equivalent to my days are the unanticipated needs that throw my plans askew: the two-hour snow delay, the stomach bug that hits, the boiler that needs maintenance, the trip to school to drop off the forgotten instrument. These are sacred invitations to a more balanced life, if I will receive them. Theologian Ronald Rolheiser put it this way: “A parent hears the monastic bell many times during the day and has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond, not because they want to, but because it’s time for that activity and time isn’t one’s own, but God’s.”
Benedictine spirituality encourages “a little strictness” to keep ourselves accountable to the spiritual quest. I practice a “Rule of Life” adapted for contemporary folks outside the monastery through a community called the “Community of the Incarnation.” We commit together daily to take time for contemplative prayer, to pray the Psalms, to dedicate days of solitude, an ongoing conversion/transformation of life through the twelve steps, and more. When people ask me about the Rule of Life, and I share several of the commitments, they’ll say, “that’s a lot!” And it is a lot. A contemplative faithfulness to divine depths amid the complexities and chaos of parenting, relationships, and work makes a little strictness necessary. I’m convinced that many of us need some strictness in our lives, because our days are utterly full. If I don’t commit to spending time with God, I won’t do it—even if I sincerely wish I would. The strictness ensures I am not swept away by the tsunami of busyness, pressing demands, and nagging worries.
At the same time, Benedict hopes to set down “nothing harsh, nothing burdensome.” To balance many commitments, responsibilities, and relationships, I often need to moderate my strictness. If strictness becomes harsh, then more gentleness is required. Perhaps my practice of a Rule of Life compels me to rise early and meditate before the kids wake up. Or perhaps my morning will unfold differently, and I’ll take an opportunity to sip coffee with my wife before she leaves for work, and skip my morning Psalms. Perfection is not the purpose of contemplative prayer—intention is. The intention to balance means for me somehow to appreciate the more jagged edge of strictness, simultaneously made smooth by “nothing harsh,” with the ultimate purpose of safeguarding love.
I love the sound of your intentional community. As structures collapse all around us, these are what will either get us through to the next age or cushion us on the rocky ride to the Parousia.
I need a bit more strictness too❣️