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Volume 32, Number 1 |
Richardton, ND 58652 |
January 2004 |
Simplicity in the Rule of Benedict: III
by Terrence Kardong, O.S.B.
It is sometimes said that Benedict is a conservative thinker who abhors disorder
above all things. He certainly knows all about social conflict, as is shown in RB
65 where he describes with great disgust a power struggle between the abbot and the
prior. He often fulminates against “presumptuous” monks, that is, those who presume
to take things into their own hands. Once he describes them with the word zelotypus
(RB 64.16), zealous. Yet he knows that true religious devotion requires precisely
this kind of single-
The concept of simplicity of aim also enters into Benedict's vocabulary of prayer.
Even though he wants his monks to spend a great deal of time in both public and private
prayer, he does not often describe prayer itself. And when he does, it is not in
any discursive way but rather in pithy but off-
Even the word “heart” may be confusing to us. We moderns instinctively think of it
as the locus of emotion, but that was not the way the Bible or the early monks used
it. For them the heart was the seat of the will, not the emotions. Consequently,
to talk about “purity of heart” is really a statement about proper motivations. It
is a question of taking up the proper stance vis-
In another place, Benedict uses a very similar phrase when speaking of prayer. It occurs in a chapter on the oratory or prayer room, which we will discuss in some depth next. He says it should be a place where one can pray with intentio cordis. Here is it very clear that prayer consists in an aiming of the heart in the right direction. It is a matter of concentration, but beyond that it is knowing where I stand and where God stands. Again it is a matter of the will, not of loud words. Those who have struggled for many years with distractions in prayer might at this point be wondering if they ever really pray. But since it is not a question of psychological acuteness but of desire, then the basic issue is this: do you want to pray? Do you spend time at it? Then you are praying. It may seem we have wandered away from our subject of simplicity, but it could be that we are just reaching its depths.
4. Oneness with God: Spiritual Simplicity
To begin studying the subject of simplicity by researching it in spiritual dictionaries is to enter a world that is quite different from what we have discussed so far here. While it is true that the Bible and the early church mostly concentrate on what we have called “moral simplicity,” the topic takes on a new depth in the writings of the late medieval mystics. There is a shift to what we might call metaphysical or mystical simplicity, which was in fact one of the great themes of Christian spirituality from about 1300 to 1800. This is the not the place to present a potted history of the theme, but a synopsis of the concept seems appropriate. We won't go into specific names and dates here, but I should at least name Meister Eckhart, The Gospel Pearl and the French Spirituals of the 17th century as key players in the discussion.
The basic concept here is theological: God is utter simplicity. That was not a new notion since the Bible had always taught monotheism, and the philosophers taught that God is pure spirit. It is also true that Christianity introduced the potentially distracting doctrine of the Trinity, but the mystics always insist strenuously that God's trinitarian nature does not cancel out God's simplicity. St. Augustine knew it was a serious problem, but he solved it by getting away from mathematics altogether. He said that to be simple is to possess inalienable attributes: since God cannot lose any of God's qualities, God is simple.
If God is essentially simplex, then it would seem that we are up against an insurmountable problem when we try to relate to God. For we experience ourselves as anything but simple! We often find ourselves dispersed and fragmented. At times we feel that we are made up of parts that are not just out of sync but warring against each other. So our experience of human life can be anything but simple. But that is not our essential condition, say the mystics. We are created as the imago Dei, the image of God, and that includes God's simplicity. Our soul is by nature simple and therefore capable of relating to the simple God.
If we are essentially simple, then what has fragmented us? One three-
But the mystics want to go considerably beyond the control of distractions. They also urge us to eliminate all images from our thinking about God and from our prayer life as well. From the standpoint of theology, this is a commendable undertaking. God is pure spirit, so human images of God are not completely helpful. In fact, they may be quite unhelpful since we are good at fabricating false images of God. That is called idolatry and it is condemned throughout the Bible. But if we cannot employ or entertain images, can we even think about God or use our minds in prayer? The mystics insist that we can and they teach a kind of passive contemplation that does not focus on any one aspect of God. It does not favor the use of words, even the words of traditional prayer formulas. I imagine it comes close to the Quaker ideal of prayer.
Not everyone in the Christian world was happy with this kind of radical thinking.
Those who prize logical thinking were suspicious of anything that seemed to short-
Does Benedict have any mystical tendencies? Certainly he never discusses the theoretical issues involved, nor does he present a treatise on prayer. It is often said that Benedict is not in favor of any complicated or elaborate methods of prayer such as have sometimes been associated with the Jesuits. It is certainly true that he never presents such a method, although his arrangement for lectio divina, the prayerful use of the Bible, seems to imply that he had definite thoughts on how a monk should approach private prayer. Yet there is one place in the Rule where I detect an indirect or oblique theory of prayer. Let me quote RB 52 in full:
RB 52: The Oratory of the Monastery. 1. The oratory should be in fact what it is called, and nothing else should be done or stored there. 2. When the Work of God is finished, they should all leave in deepest silence and show reverence for God. 3. Thus will the brother who may wish to pray by himself not be hindered by the thoughtlessness of another. 4. But if someone perhaps wishes to pray privately at some other time, let him simply go in and pray, not in a loud voice but with tears and full attention of heart. 5. Therefore, whoever is not busy with this kind of work is not permitted to remain in the oratory, as the place is called. For the prayer of another should not be disturbed.
First let us note that the word simpliciter does occur in this chapter, but it does
not seem to have much significance. It could almost pass for a sort of verbal tic,
a throw-
But is it not also possible that Benedict is gently poking fun at all elaborate or ostentatious approaches to prayer? Maybe he even has a bit of regret over the rather complicated nature of the public Divine Office that many a monk has found hard to master, at least as a novice. When it comes to private prayer, he says, no special preparation is necessary, no elaborate protocol, no intricate system of mediation. It is just between the individual and God, and just a matter of doing it. The important thing is to do it; simply go in and do it!
Just doing it, though, is not as simple as it sounds. If this is a call for pure prayer without distractions, then we can say that many of the ancient monks did not find it easy. In Egypt, for example, they regularly did handwork while praying, whether that meant plaiting ropes or other useful items. They did that partly for practical reasons, for they sold the products, but they also did it to keep awake and to provide some kind of physical vehicle for spiritual awareness. The Pachomian monks even plaited baskets during the night office in church.
Benedict, though, seems to go against that practice. He says explicitly that he does not want any other work but prayer to take place in the oratory. He also says he does not want things stored in that room, as if that could prove to be a distraction to those who want to pray. He bases himself on the argument that we have encountered before in this paper: Things should be what they are called. If the monk is called holy, he really should be that. If the chapel is called oratory (place of prayer from Latin orare), then that is what should be done there and nothing else. It is again a question of integrity, one of the root meanings of simple.
A regular concern of the spiritual writers is to eliminate distractions. If God is simple, then it will be difficult for God to come to the one who prays if she is divided by distractions. A popular modern form of teaching is called “centering prayer,” and it has to do with achieving mental focus. But Benedict's concern here is also social: We should help others become centered by offering them the gift of quiet and considerate behavior. Anyone who has ever lived at close quarters with a lot of people knows how important this can be.
So close to the end of this paper, I do not want to indulge in an extensive excursus, but surely there must be some food for thought here about monastic churches. Granted there is no standard pattern of monastic church architecture and decoration; in fact, one can find the most varied styles throughout the world. But as a principle, I would suggest that a simple, uncluttered space would be Benedict's preference. This gets us into a very complex and touchy zone of aesthetic and pious sensibility, but it does seem that Benedict is pretty clear in this chapter that prayer should be simple, and so should the place where we pray.
I want to make one more point about this chapter and it has to do with work. My translation of verse 5a: “those who do this kind of work” is quite literal; RB 1980 does not even render the word opus, but it is there. One of its functions is to form an inclusion with verse 2, where the word “work” also occurs. Benedict wants to make sure that the right kind of work is done in the chapel. It could be a contrast to the Opus Dei, the divine office and public prayer of the community. That particular “work” has just concluded, but someone might want to remain and continue the work on a more private level.
Still, I wonder if Benedict might not be engaging in a bit of irony in his use of “work” to describe mental prayer in this verse? Certainly it is not work in the usual sense of the term. In fact, the popular motto of the Benedictines is “Work and Pray,” so the two things are not collapsed together in our thinking. One point of this little chapter is to emphasize the utter simplicity of private, interior prayer as opposed to other kinds of work, and especially as opposed to any kind of elaborate worship.
This is not to deny that prayer is indeed a form of work. It is that if we mean that
it takes effort on our part and does not just happen by accident. It is certainly
an “act of the will,” which engages us at the deepest level of our being. Nevertheless,
it should be remembered that radical simplification in the spiritual life is something
that only God can accomplish in us. We are complicated creatures, whose efforts at
personal simplification often become entangled in excessive self-
