Saturday, November 24, 2018

A return to prayer: relearning the goodness of God

Immediately after the bishop's homily during Mass of Ordination, the candidates for ordination to the diaconate are called forward and, if married, they are asked five questions. If they are not married, a candidate(s) is asked a sixth question, which comes after the third, vowing celibacy (Roman Pontifical, "Promises of the Elect" in Rite of Ordination of Several Deacons, sec. 200). Answering in unison, the candidates respond "I do" to the first four questions (Ibid). Again, in unison, they respond "I do, with the help of God" to the fifth question. The fourth question the ordaining bishop asks the candidates (fifth question for unmarried candidates) is:
Do [all of] you resolve to maintain and deepen the spirit of prayer that is proper to your way of life and, in keeping with this spirit and what is required of you, to celebrate faithfully the Liturgy of the Hours with and for the People of God and indeed for the whole world? (Ibid. NB: words in brackets in Pontifical text)
In practical terms, what this typically taken to mean for permanent deacons, whose vocation, as James Keating noted, is one of "creative tension - a cleric living a lay life" (The Heart of the Diaconate: Communion with the Servant Mysteries of Christ, 1), is daily praying what are known as the two hinge hours of the Liturgy of the Hours: Morning and Evening Prayer. These offices are still sometimes called by their older Latin names: Lauds and Vespers, respectively. Over the nearly fifteen years I have been ordained, I have remained faithful to this promise with lapses here and there. Personally, I view these lapses as grave enough to bring them to confession.

I don't mind sharing the first few weeks of November this year has seen me lapse in prayer. Prior to my recent lapse, after Morning Prayer and some days after Evening Prayer as well, I was daily reading a chapter of the Rule of St Benedict and then making recourse to Esther de Waal's excellent commentary on it. One reason for my lapses in blogging this year is that I am striving to complete a Doctor of Ministry degree. I am part of the inaugural class of Mount Angel Seminary's Doctor of Ministry (D.Min). Completing academic work for my final year, which includes my dissertation and comprehensive examination, has proven to be very stressful. In addition to being a seminary, Mount Angel is a thriving Benedictine Abbey. So, for about a month the past three summers, I have been in residence at the Abbey during my academic residencies. All of this is just to point out that I have experienced a bit of an immersive experience into Benedictine life. In fact, I picked up de Waal's A Life-Giving Way: A Commentary on the Rule of St. Benedict at the Abbey/Seminary library this past summer.

My only previous foray into St. Benedict's Rule was a few years ago when I was asked by our parish's Knights of Columbus Council to give a one-day Lenten retreat. Over the course of a few weeks, I put together a half-day on the seventh chapter of the Rule, which bears the heading "The value of humility." Chapter seven is perhaps the most famous and well-known part of the great saint of Nursia's Rule, or regula. It is in this chapter that Benedict uses a twelve-step ladder to symbolize "for each of us our life in this world during which we aspire to be lifted up to heaven by Lord, if only we can learn humility in our hearts" (Saint Benedict's Rule: A New Translation for Today, trans. Patrick Barry, OSB, 21- courtesy of one of my spiritual mentors, I have a nice cloth-bound copy of Abbot Patrick's translation).

My lapses in prayer end once I stop feeling bad about not praying as I have promised to pray and simply start praying again. This simple step shows me once again, every time, how gentle and merciful is the Lord. In the prologue to his regula, which vies for the ladder of humility in being the best known part of his Rule, St. Benedict writes:
This, then, is the beginning of my advice: make prayer the first step in anything worthwhile that you attempt. Persevere and do not weaken in that prayer. Pray with confidence, because God, in his love and forgiveness, has counted us as his own sons and daughters (Saint Benedict's Rule, 1)
Having finished chapter seven on humility and de Waal's insightful commentary on it prior to my lapse, I picked up this morning with the eighth chapter.

Chapter eight of the Rule bears the heading "The Divine Office at night." Here is the complete text:
It seems reasonable that during wintertime, that is from the first of November until Easter all should rise at the eighth hour of the night. By that time, having rested until a little after midnight, they may rise with their food well digested. Any time which is left after Vigils should be devoted to study of the psalter or lessons by those who are behind hand in these tasks. From Easter until the first of November the times should be arranged so that there is a very short break after Vigils for the needs of nature. Lauds can then follow at the first light of daybreak (Saint Benedict's Rule, 93)
In Abbot Patrick's translation chapters 8-18 appear as an appendix. In light of some alterations to the routine Benedict laid out, especially those ushered in by the Second Vatican Council, he felt they were somewhat obscure and perhaps even irrelevant to non-monastics. In her commentary, de Waal shows how this chapter, given its practicality, is relevant to non-monastics.

A photo I took of an icon of St. Benedict at Mount Angel Abbey, 29 June 2018


One of the things that becomes apparent reading the Rule of Saint Benedict, especially the Prologue through the seventh chapter, is that outward practices are engaged in only for the purpose of fostering in them the proper inward disposition. In other words, the practices laid out in the Rule are means to the end of loving God and neighbor. This is what makes it a valuable regula, with proper adaptations, for anyone who endeavors to be Christ's disciple, even those of us who do not belong to Benedictine monastic communities. As de Waal sees it, chapters 5-7 of the Rule are geared towards helping me form "the attitude that is to underlie the art of praying" (A Life-Giving Way, 56). She enumerates five attitudes: "the fear of the Lord, the total dependence on God, the constant awareness of God's presence [even when my prayer goes lax], the demand of continual perseverance and patience [of which I am reminded each time I chose to simply start praying], and above all, the motivation of love" (Ibid). In a straightforward Benedictine manner, she points out: "The whole end of life is to hear the Word and respond to it" (Ibid). It is in this way "The whole of my life" can "become prayer" (Ibid).

De Waal notes that in this short chapter, mindfulness, while necessary is not sufficient for prayer. Prayer requires fixed times and a certain structure. It is a discipline. This gets back to adhering to the discipline of praying Morning and Evening Prayer, as well as setting aside time for prayer between these two poles of the day, like reciting the Rosary or simply taking ten minutes for silence and meditation. Benedict, de Waal notes, never removes prayer from life's rhythms. Rather, he seeks to make it part of the changing seasons of the year, of daytime and nighttime, "and not least of which the rhythm of my own body" (A Life-Giving Way, 56). Returning to the tremendous practicality of Benedictine spirituality, de Waal points out:
In a world in which the techniques of prayer are widely discussed and so many varying techniques seem to be offered, it is rather startling to have the subjects of sleep, digestion, and making time to go the lavatory introduced in this short chapter (Ibid)
Once again, she highlights the truly Christian character of the Rule by noting that Benedict does not provide us with "some idealized blueprint" but rather he takes into account "our total humanity - body, mind, and spirit - and recognizes that balance here: praying is dissociated neither from a gentle handling of bodily needs, nor from intellectual demand" (Ibid). The Rule is for those people who follow it, not the other way around.

De Waal ends her commentary on the eighth chapter of the Rule of St. Benedict by highlighting the spiritual importance of rising early. I recently read two articles on this, which served to reinforce the goodness of early-rising: "It’s Astounding How Many Problems Can Be Solved Just by Waking Up Early" and "The Scientific Argument For Waking Up Early." Comparing these to the Rule of St. Benedict, as well as other useful spiritual writings, this seems to be one of those instances in which reason ("science" as it is often called these daze) is catching up, or rather confirming, to faith. or at least wise human praxis. Arising early, before the break of day, it seems, is a habit worth acquiring.

According to the Rule, monks went to bed at 6:00 PM and arose at 2:00 AM to communally pray the night office(s). "They would thus start the day in the dark," de Waal observes (A Life-Giving Rule, 57). In de Waal's view, starting the day in the dark enabled them to experience "the slow coming of the dawn," which "would be a symbolic daily reminder of the movement from dark to light, from sleep and death to new life" (Ibid). Pointing to Pater Tom's (for newish readers, this how I refer to Thomas Merton) habit of arising at 2:15 AM while staying in the hermitage at the Abbey of Gethsemani, she highlights "that those hours before dawn are perhaps the best time of all for prayer" (Ibid). She cites Merton's own rather poetic observation about this:
It is necessary for me to see the first point of light which begins to dawn. It is necessary to be present alone at the resurrection of Day, in blank silence when the sun appears. In this completely neutral instant I receive from the eastern woods, the tall oaks, the one word, "Day" which is never the same. It is never spoken in any known language (A Life-Giving Rule, 57)
Simple as I am, experiencing all of this today as I chose to pray again, which is what each day requires, I am grateful that God is good, kind, and merciful to me, his slacker son, but a son I remain.

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