SOURCE: "A Guide: The Rule of St. Benedict," The American Benedictine Review, Vol. 36, No. 4, December, 1985, pp. 372-93.

[In the following essay, originally published in 1981, Zegveld presents an overview of the fundamental concerns in the Rule of St. Benedict and explores how the Rule is to be interpreted and obeyed in the modern era.]

The Call

In the writings of the New Testament a strong undercurrent of longing for the Kingdom of God makes itself felt, a longing for a new world, a new society entirely penetrated by the spirit of Jesus Christ, a desire for a new heaven and a new earth, in a word, for a life based on the precepts of the Sermon on the Mount. On the other hand, they also present, without any illusions, a clear view of humanity and the world of humanity as they actually exist: laboring with egotism, with the debilitating weight of sin, with the powerful drive of the passions.

Between these two worlds stands Jesus Christ. He combines both by offering to people, as they are, a community with a greater reality. This offer showed itself particularly in his resurrection. All had deserted him, had broken community with him and thus practically rejected what he had offered them. Still, after his death, despite everything, the conviction grew that the offer of a new life continued, that Jesus had forgiven them and that he was alive. Whoever therefore in faith lives in him as the Risen Lord, already lives in this world as in the coming Kingdom of God. Such faith is not an intellectual insight, but a conviction of the heart; in other words, a change of heart, a deep, vital knowledge that one has been accepted and transported purely by grace into the other world. This faith moves a person to give one's life a new direction, to rethink it. This faith calls for conversion.

In an early section of the Acts of the Apostles we find all these elements joined together: after the descent of the Holy Spirit, Peter spoke to the crowd that had gathered; he told them that they had unjustly delivered to death Jesus, a man sent by God, that he had arisen and was still offering himself to them. "When they heard this, they were deeply shaken. They asked Peter and the other apostles, 'What are we to do, brothers?' Peter answered, 'You must reform and be baptized, each one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, that your sins may be forgiven!" (Acts 2:37f.). On the basis of this repentance, this conversion and this faith, the first assembly in Jerusalem will soon form, and its characteristic feature is community; its first reaction to the resurrection of Jesus is one of sharing: sharing of prayer, of food, of possessions. It is a community that wants to live out of God in a new manner, as God appeared in Jesus Christ and in his resurrection: a permanent offer of community on the basis of the new commandment, namely, that of an all-forgiving love.

Monastic life has always considered itself as a continuation of this primitive community of Jerusalem, as a radical and charismatic decision for the presence of God as it became apparent in Jesus Christ. It always desired to be a manner of life in which people could realize their pervasive desire to live in union with God. This union with God is sought with such absolute determination that literally everything is sacrificed for it (eremitical desert monasticism); it is also sought, with a like determination, in a quest for fraternal charity (cenobitical monasticism). In either case the monk seeks to become simple, wants to concentrate solely on one thing, wants to live a life directed to the one thing that counts: the monk seeks God alone—through the help of others who are of one heart and one soul.

The Rule of St. Benedict stands in this tradition. It is very definitely a place where these two complementary directions come together. In the Rule we see God's offer of union, we see the faith that becomes a vocation and stimulates the monk to conversion, to a form of life that is determined by a new consideration of all values.

What position does the Rule take with regard to this seeking after God, to union with God? I should like to discuss this question under the following four rubrics, and naturally this is no more than an attempt at an answer:

1. Why do we live according to a Rule?
2. How does the Rule present itself?
3. What are the basic values of the Rule?
4. What does it mean "to live according to the Rule"?

Why Do We Live according to a Rule?

As has already been said, monks desire to live in the spirit of the Gospel, according to the norms and values of the Gospel. These norms and values are synthesized in the old and the new commandment of love, because God is love. Is, then, a Rule really necessary? Do not all Rules, great and small, yield to this one commandment? To know God and to live with him is a form of love, love on the basis of a knowledge that one has been accepted and is affirmed as a unique person. Now, such a "knowledge in love" in reality cannot be transferred, just as every knowledge of truth is non-transferable. A person may indeed assert something, seek to explain something, repeat the words of the Gospel, paraphrase them, translate them, give a new direction to them—but one cannot be sure that the hearer is affected. A spiritual insight simply cannot be transferred from one person to another, as one might hand over apples to another—or the pox. Something more is needed.

In the first place, then, there is required "illumination," an "interior master," as Augustine would say, who repeats in the heart of each one external words, but in one's own language, so that the person begins to understand and grasp this external word internally. A person must—to use a somewhat lame comparison—always listen with two ears: one ear directed to the outside and one ear to the inside; the first listening to the word that comes from the outside, the second ardently open to the reaction of the heart and to the echo of the word in it.

Many people listen by directing their ears solely to the outside; they are not affected, they do not allow themselves to be affected; they never grow warm, but remain stuck with externals—words, sources, research. Some people speak often and easily, enter readily into conversation; they try to discern what words are expected of them "to remain in the conversation." Others listen by turning their ears inward; they are always affected, but generally it is not clear by what; in most cases this does not lead to commitment. They are lost in a maze of feelings. They dream and become enthusiastic about an entirely different theory, in which another cannot participate.

No, in listening one ear must be directed to the outside and one ear to the inside, both in speaking with others and in speaking to one's own heart: the word for the outside resides in a person's heart and is only there grasped as a "word-for-me": illumination. Still, as has been said, no one can give or transfer this illumination. The "inner master" serenely goes its own way.

What, however, can be transferred is a form of life. Hence, in the second place: If you want to lead people to the knowledge of a spiritual truth, offer them a manner of life. People with "insight" hand on how they have lived in practice. And they do so with the certainty acquired by experience: If you live this way, then at a given moment, if you are really listening with both ears, outside and inside, "insight" will surely come, by itself, in its own good time. Forms, life styles, bring their own light with them. In other words, to grow into a definite experience, to enter into a definite experience, always means at the same time to grow into a definite culture, as definite manner of life, definite ways of conduct, rules and arrangements. With a view to a hoped-for experience a person must submit to forms which, at least at first glance, have little to do with the experience that is envisioned. Besides, there is no essential connection between form and experience. It is a matter of trust, because in the realm of the spiritual life other laws apply.

The monk's life is in the first place a life style. Certainly, it is meant to lead to the experience of an all-embracing love, to prayer without ceasing, to a lived experience that God is all in all, to the coming of the Kingdom of God which incarnates itself in a person's life—and all these are synonyms. But none of the monastic writers have ever been able to present an illumination of that kind. What they could hand on is the manner in which they lived, what their life actually looked like. Hence they left their Rules, not as documents of laws, but as the end-result of their spiritual experience and as a concrete example as to how they lived God's Good News. It is as if they said, "Live in the manner here prescribed and you will—if God grants it—arrive at the goal, because the voice of the inner master will be aroused in you. Grow into these forms, and the hoped-for life will grow in you."

Besides, this agrees fully with the pedagogy of Jesus. The Lord wants to lead us to the knowledge of God, to an experience of God's own Spirit, to the point where we shall know God as we are known by him. "Eternal life is this: to know you, the only true God, and him whom you have sent" (Jn 17:3). But this "illumination" is possible only if the person becomes like the human Jesus, if he follows after him, and thus begins to live as he lived. By living like him, a person will attain to Jesus' basic attitude in his own soul (Phil 2:5). The great mystics have well recognized this, as for example Hadewijch. She longed to "taste" God, to "savor" him, to become one with him, to see God as God, but she learned that this is possible only by way of imitation, by following him in the way he became man.

Why do we live according to a Rule? In general terms the answer may run as follows: We long to see God, we desire to enter into the kingdom of his presence, we want—"like the angels," the ancients say—to become all eye, to be eye alone for God. That can happen only through our humanity, in concrete human ways, through imitation. Imitation is presumed and handed down as such. It was initiated by Jesus himself, and our ancestors have given form to that imitation. Their Rules are meant to be nothing more than this: the Good News of Jesus, the imitation of the Lord's life style.

How Does the Rule Present Itself

The Rule of St. Benedict must be understood in the light of the Rules that preceded it. It intends to be neither more nor less than an incarnation of the great values of the Gospel (cf. Prologue: "… by the guidance of the Gospel"). It seeks to define a form of life which, if faithfully followed, leads to a definite experience of God, to a Promised Land, of which again it only makes mention. Hence the two following aspects: The Rule considers itself indispensable—and at the same time it regards itself as a point of departure that must be jettisoned.

First, the Rule is indispensable. In Chapter 1 St. Benedict says that the cenobites, the monks whom he envisages, are characterized by the fact that they "serve under a Rule and an abbot." It is striking that the Rule is mentioned before the abbot. In contrast to earlier monasticism, where the abbot regulated the entire life, the superior here becomes the custodian of the Rule. Thus the Rule becomes a kind of universal point of reference, also, for the authority that is exercised in the community: "In all things, therefore, let all follow the Rule as their guide, and let no one be so rash as to deviate from it" (RB 3). The abbot, too, must act "in observance of the Rule" (RB 3). Furthermore, at the installation the abbot is told to "keep this Rule in all its details" (RB 64). (In the Rule of the Master a copy of the Rule is handed to the abbot immediately after the blessing.)

Hence the Rule is a kind of universal point of reference. For this reason it is expressly read several times during the course of the novitiate, so that the novices may well know what they are undertaking. For the monk's life is not primarily a seeking after subjective experiences, but the assumption of the yoke of the Rule: "Let this Rule be read through to him, and let him be addressed thus, 'Here is the law under which you wish to fight… '; let him understand … that from that day forward he may not leave the monastery nor withdraw his neck from under the yoke of the Rule" (RB 58).

Because becoming and being a monk means to assume this yoke, Benedict prescribes, "We desire that this Rule be read often in the community, so that none of the brethren may excuse himself on the ground of ignorance" (RB 66). In a word, the Rule presents itself as indispensable, as a universal point of departure, as a necessary norm for monks living the cenobitic form of life. According to St. Benedict they distinguish themselves by the fact that they follow a Rule (and not, as with Cassian, by their attitude toward possessions), in contrast to the sarabaites, that "detestable kind of monks who are … as soft … as lead; their law is the desire for self-gratification: whatever enters their minds or appeals to them, that they call holy" (RBI).

Still, the Rule does not govern the entire spiritual horizon of monks; it is not the last or the only word. Doubtless it considers itself indispensable, but regards itself only as a beginning, in other words, as the indispensable point of departure. The Rule does not embrace the whole of perfection; it is only a "minimum Rule which we have written for beginners," a starting point for those who strive for perfection (RB 73). It tends to lead the life of the Gospel fully; for this it is a first step on the way (RB Prol.), a way that leads to other, greater incamations of the Good News: the Desert Masters, the patristic writers and the entire monastic tradition. All this stands between the good Word of God itself and our finite experience, in order to unite the two.

As a point of departure the Rule occasionally appears harsh and uncompromising. Still that characteristic is not, at least according to the Rule, to be ascribed to itself, but rather to the weakness of those who want to follow it. They have only to endure these hard things; because he who misses the beginning misses everything. The Rule is the "narrow" starting point, which obliges the monk always to advance further, so that the heart becomes enlarged, and what at first was confining later becomes progressively easier, because the human heart itself widens. The "narrow" beginning of the Prologue (" … do not be at once dismayed and fly from the way of salvation, whose entrance cannot but be narrow") is identical with "the rudiments of the religious life" in the final chapter of the Rule (RB 73). For those who have advanced, the Rule is only a minimum which leads to what the theologians of the monastic life have demonstrated: the way of unceasing prayer, conformity with Jesus Christ, all-embracing love.

The "fulfillment" of this point of departure consists in faithfulness to this Rule by trying to fathom the mystery of God, by drinking again and again at the fountain of the patristic commentators on Sacred Scripture. This means that faithfulness to the Rule is possible only by tirelessly drawing on the authentic tradition. It may be remarked in passing that at the present time there exists a tendency of being satisfied with secondary literature and a multiform but superficial kind of piety. If a monk confines himself to that sort of thing, he will necessarily lose in depth and, despite external observance, not be faithful to the Rule. There must be an inner conviction not only to live this Rule, but also to advance in the direction of greater reverence, more profound silence, more intensive prayer, more perfect conformity. The observance of the Rule is only a beginning, the door to something "beyond"—and St. Benedict wants to stress this perspective. Hence a monk must not be satisfied with the Rule; he should not concede that the observance of the Rule sets a limit to his own religious ambitions. As observance, waiting at table is a form of fraternal love; it leads to that love, makes a beginning of it possible; but it is not the end or goal of fraternal love. Similarly, the Divine Office, as observance, is not the ultimate. It leads to unceasing prayer, and the monk may never dispense himself from striving for that unceasing prayer. Only with a view to the maintenance and deepening of this effort does the Rule itself permit changes in its observance (cf. RB 18.40).

Basic Values in the Rule of St. Bendict¹

What are the basic values, expressed or implied, in the Rule of St. Benedict? This much is clear: The Rule wants to engender a definite basic attitude, a definite model, giving life and support to the observances of the monastic life. By the words "basic values" we do not mean the shape that the monastic life assumes (in this sense the Divine Office is not a basic value), but the fundamental attitude from which the life proceeds.

The choice of basic values naturally brings something arbitrary with it. This becomes evident when various attempts in this regard are compared. The result is not always the same, because it is dependent on the usually hidden convictions of the one making the choice. Dom Victor Dammertz distinguishes the following: ordo, discretio, stabilitas, humility and peace.² Father H. Arts, S.J., comes to a different conclusion; he cites: vocation, listening, definite commitment, concern for humanity, humility and meditation.³ In his book, Vie monastique selon St. Benoît, Dom P. Miquel again has different terms,⁴ while the older commentaries of Dom P. Delatte or Dom I. Herwegen present other categories.

We would like to add our own melody to this illustrious choir of learned voices and distinguish four basic values:

• a sense of the subjective;
• an appreciation of horizontal relationships;
• humility;
• "discreet observance," that is, fidelity to the observance, with accommodations.

a) Sense of the Subjective

Repeatedly Benedict stresses the interior attitude which should govern the monk's activity. In other words, in the Rule the emphasis is not on what monks do (must do), but on how they do (must do) it.

Here are several examples: In the chapter on the porter in the Rule of the Master we find all sorts of prescriptions for those entrusted with the care of the door: They are not only to open and close, they are also to inform the abbot, lock the door whenever they go for reading in the cloister or when the bell rings for Office; besides their duties at the door, they should also perform some other work, care for the horses and dogs, keep the porter's lodge clean and care for the night illumination (RM 95).

Benedict orders things quite differently. True, the porter is to open the door, but not without further ado. He should do so, "with all meekness inspired by the fear of God" and respond to visitors "with the warmth of charity" (RB 66). Benedict really does not say anything more; he is concerned about the interior attitude with which the porter carries out his duties. The personality of the official, a spiritual portrait, is limited, and personal responsibility is stressed. We might almost say: Benedict believes that a good interior attitude by itself leads to the correct fulfillment of a task.

In this connection we may consider Benedict's concept of obedience, particularly in the case where a monk is ordered to do something impossible (RB 68). The Rule of the Master simply threatens sanctions for the disobedient monk; besides, it considers obedience purely from the standpoint of the superior (RM 7, 57). St. Benedict insinuates himself, as it were, into the skin of the monk and asks, "How shall the monk handle the good of obedience when it becomes difficult for him?" Then he describes both the interior and the exterior attitude, that is, the manner in which the monk should receive an order, the manner in which he may manifest his own desires, the manner in which he ought to treat authority and the bearer of authority. Thus the relationship between abbot and monk is humanized. Doubtless obedience is demanded, but it becomes a common concern (RB 68), and the abbot is asked to see whether, in fact, something is subjectively impossible for the monk.

We see a similar sensitivity for the subjective in connection with obedience in Chapter 71. While the Rule of the Master lays emphasis on the objective content of the order, St. Benedict looks upon obedience as a subjective good. In his view obedience is a good not only because something is demanded, no matter what it be, but because it is good to be submissive in love to one another, and because it is good to make oneself the servant of all, as Jesus did. The Master's great concern for the maintenance of order here yields to make room for concern for souls.

Hence a sense for the subjective is the first basic value of the Rule of St. Benedict. And it is something we must carefully nurture in ourselves. As was said above, the Rule presents itself as indispensable. Still it imposes on the monks the obligation to find the motivation for their actions in their own hearts. It emphasizes that external compliance does not suffice; it wants to lead to an inner commitment, so that the monk personally consents to what is done externally; it demands that the monks as persons grow interiorly from what they conceive the Rule to be. External observance of the Rule does not suffice; monks must give themselves interiorly, embracing the basic attitude that animated Jesus Christ.

If we draw this line farther, we behold in Benedict a great concern for the personality of the monk, also, in its limits, an understanding of the differences in people and a reverence for them. Hence the saying, "Monks as like as peas in a pod," is certainly not Benedictine. This shows itself in Benedict's view of the abbot. In the Rule the abbot is more or less a composite of the spiritual Desert tradition, the head of the Christian community and the head of the house according to the law then in vogue. He gives instruction to the community, supplies spiritual guidance and also regulates the material side of life. Contrary to the Rule of the Master, Benedict strongly emphasizes the authority of the abbot by leaving many details to his judgment. Father de Vogüé puts it as follows, "The written law must give place to the living authority of the person. The lawgiver draws back and permits the abbot to act."'

Two examples: "… let the abbot appoint brethren on whose manner of life and character he can rely; and let him, as he shall judge to be expedient, consign the various articles to them" (RB 32). And in accommodating clothing to the climate, St. Benedict says, "This is to be taken into consideration by the abbot" (RB 55).

In certain ways Benedict's Rule gives more power to the abbot than the Rule of the Master: it emphasizes strongly the cases in which the abbot, in accordance with the Rule, must use his own judgment. On the other hand, while stressing the autority of the abbot, the Rule of St. Benedict becomes more humane. Contrary to the Rule of the Master, the abbot is obliged to seek advice: "… let the abbot consider prudently" (RB 61) or ask "the counsel of God-fearing brethren" (RB 65). In this light the order in the community receives its significance (RB 63). The Rule of the Master abolishes all rank in the monastery. Benedict again introduces an order among the monks, but at the same time warns that "the abbot must not disturb the flock committed to him, nor by arbitrary use of his power ordain anything unjustly" (RB 63). And when Benedict insists that monks do not call one another by their simple names, but use a correct form of address, he at the same time wishes to prevent the abbot, by virtue of his office, from becoming too familiar with his monks, and in this way seeks to prevent him from falling into a domineering attitude, jealousy and injustice (RB 27, 65). For Benedict is always concerned with the monk's salvation, and for that reason the abbot must be careful about it as well as about the quality of the interior life of those committed to his care.

In a word, a care for the subjective is the first basic value of Benedict's Rule. Not what the monk does is of primary importance, but rather the manner in which he does it. Hence the individuality of the monk must be kept in view, considering what is or is not possible for him. This concern must be exercised above all by the abbot and his officials (for example, the cellarer—RB 31). For this reason Benedict's Rule—quite unlike that of the Master—emphatically asks that the abbot keep his own weaknesses ever in mind.

b) An Appreciation of Horizontal Relationships

The second basic value of Benedict's Rule is closely connected with the preceding one: a sense for horizontal relationships, for relationships among the brethren. This becomes very evident when we again compare the Rule of Benedict with that of the Master, particularly in the way in which they regard the abbot.

In the Rule of the Master a close vertical bond exists between the abbot and the monks. The monastery is a school in which one learns the service of the Lord. In this school the abbot stands forth as "teacher" (magister et doctor). He alone is that! In other words, the monastic community is an educational establishment, a pedagogical milieu, which finds its basis in the individual relationship between the abbot as teacher and the monk as "disciple." The community evolves from this relationship: it is a community of individuals who, as it were, accidentally happen to be disciples under the same abbot at a given time. It forms a circle with the abbot at its center. For the monks the abbot symbolizes God's unique Fatherhood.

This central position of the abbot in the Rule of the Master manifests itself in the emphasis on obedience toward the abbot as a decisive element in the education to which the monk submits. Poverty on the part of the monk is closely linked to this obedience; for where the monk submits unconditionally to the guidance of a teacher, there also material things may not be excluded from the educational relationship. As a consequence, in the Rule of the Master any order or rank among the monks is abolished, apart from competition among individuals striving with one another for perfection under the guidance of the abbot. Of horizontal relationships there is no word.

St. Benedict sees the situation quite differently. First, he emphasizes strongly that, apart from the educational relationship between abbot and monk, there must be another: that of love, a relationship between person and person. The monk must relate to the superior not only by external obedience, but by that which essentially characterizes the human person; and the abbot, in all actions and commands, must constantly keep in mind the personality of the monk. Secondly, Benedict again introduces a definite order among the members of the community, an order that basically is a prolongation of the abbot-teacher and the monk-disciple relationship. Older monks receive the title which traditionally was reserved to the abbot, namely, nonnus—reverend father. The younger monks are to obey not only the abbot, but also the elders (RB 71). This mutual obedience is hierarchical in character! The elders are warned—as Benedict also warns the abbot—not to abuse this hierarchical order (RB 70), although all of them share in the educational function of the abbot.

But there is more. Apart from the common educational responsibility, Benedict is interested in mutual relationships. He desires these to be permeated with genuine love. In this connection, Chapter 72, "The Good Zeal of Monks," is important. This chapter is Benedict's original creation. Here, as in the Rule of the Master, zeal is stressed. Yet it is not the individual zeal of surpassing one another in the observance of the Rule, but the zeal—and every monk should possess it—of all in common striving for a common goal, Christ, "and may he bring us all together to life everlasting" (RB 72). The external competition of the Rule of the Master becomes interiorized (care for the subjective) and simultaneously joined to the relationships among the monks. Of course, these relationships are organized (RB 63), but again they are viewed as relative (RB 71, 62), as only one aspect of the monks' journey to God. This dimension of mutuality, together with the traditional components, belongs to the monastic way of life. One is (or becomes) a monk by showing oneself a person, that is, in love, to other persons as reverent, patient, willing and selfless (RB 72). For Benedict the community is not only an educational milieu in which individuals strive to attain perfection; it is a community of persons who are bound together in love and in this common bond follow the Lord. In other words, the community as "a school for the Lord's service" (RB Prol) in its deepest sense is a community in which Christ is recognized as the way, the truth and the life not only in the abbot but in everyone of the monks. The entire process of monastic asceticism is colored by this mutual love. Whoever has it possesses everything; whoever (still) does not have it—even though they carry out the observance perfectly—must still begin. For the great observance is the observance of love without limits.

c) Humility

In all that the monks do, they must keep in mind the subjective and the horizontal elements. But with that, little or nothing is said about what really makes a monk. Here the concept of humility becomes important. It is simply the key word to the entire spirituality of St. Benedict. For this reason Chapter 7 is the chapter richest in content, the chapter that specifically describes the way of the monk. For, as we said above, the Rule wants to lead the monk by way of the first two basic elements to love without limits (cf. Chap. 7). Now, love is self-abasement. Genuine love is conformity with the Lord in all things, a meeting with the Lord in everyone and everything. From the Gospels we know that the Lord showed his love for us by humbling himself, and in this way he came close to all of us (Phil 2:7-8).

Humility is a word which indicates that the monks oblige themselves by their lives to the following of Christ, and for that reason dedicate themselves to self-abasement. Hence humility signifies obedience, patience, self-denial, selfless submission, economic dependence. Not as if these things were ends in themselves, but because they are prerequisites for genuine love and are its marks. True love is shown essentially by the free acceptance of and assent to the fact that others dispose of our lives. Exactly that was revealed in Christ. He despoiled himself of everything, became a brother to all, allowed others to dispose of him to the extent that he willed to give his life for them.

Benedict sees this love as the basis and final goal of the monk's life. Both externally and internally one must strive to grow in this love. Without such striving one cannot speak of a monk's life. It is identical with "truly seeking God" (RB 58), seeking after the true God. Genuine seeking after the true God is not an intellectual pursuit, not a growth in theological insight. Fundamentally it means not to be scandalized by the manner in which he revealed himself, not to be scandalized by the ways he chooses. Genuine seeking after the true God means not to turn away from the ways in which God manifests himself as the God of humanity. If St. John says that God is love (1 Jn 4:8), in other words, that wherever love happens there God "happens," this must be understood in the light of the pronouncement of Paul which was alluded to before: love is humility, humility is love. Thus love and humility proceed from the same source and they have the same origin, namely, God.

What has been said hitherto may be formulated as follows: St. Benedict intends to further the quality of life. He desires that the monk do everything in the best manner possible and live as a simple, integrated person (first basic value). Further, he wants the monk to function as a community being, equally whole and simple (second basic value). As a dedicated person the monk meets our Lord. Still St. Benedict also understands that a monk can only be such a dedicated person if true love resides in the heart. True love is not feeling, not being overwhelmed by emotion, not a condition of constant ecstasy. True love has something to do with God, is an expression of God's being. Love is only genuine when it makes the true God externally visible, if it makes him "happen," if it seeks to travel paths he himself trod: humbly, in selfless service of others, with unconcern for self, patiently and simply. For this reason—it is important to understand this—monks must possess humility toward themselves, must be able to love themselves as poor members of the Body of Christ, of that Body through which the genuine love of the true God appeared in human form. True love is something entirely human: to look upon oneself with compassion and to associate with others in a selfless manner, without the common pretenses, such as ideas of grandeur, false modesty or being governed by the passions. St. Benedict desires that the love of 1 Jn 4, Jn 13 and Phil 2 constitute the heart of the monastery and form the basic condition of every individual monk.

d) "Discreet Observance"—Fidelity to the Observance, with Accommodations

Finally, "discreet observance" is the fourth basic value in the Rule of St. Benedict. In order to show what is meant by these two words, reference may be made to what was said above regarding the way in which the Rule presents itself. It was discovered that on the one hand the Rule regards itself as indispensable and therefore imposes a certain rigor; but on the other hand it was also seen that the Rule is to be transcended and that consequently it is relative. Hence, in the Rule we have an emphasis on observances and yet a relativity regarding them. Therefore, as the fourth value we have two contradictory words: discreet "observatism," that is, fidelity to the observance, but with spiritual accommodation.

Stress is laid on the observances; they are emphatically imposed and strictly prescribed, as for example: The extremely severe attitude with regard to "the vice of private property" (RB 34, 54, 55); the strong prohibition of "idle talk" (RB 4, 6, 8); the emphasis on silence at table (RB 38), at night (RB 42) or in the cloister (RB 67). In matters that I might call "the pivots of the monastic life" (contacts with other monks, with the world outside, with possessions) St. Benedict is strict. Here ordo, a holy discipline, comes strikingly to the fore. Fear of God, reverent adoration of God's holiness and humility manifest themselves in "faithful service," in an upright, loyal observance.

Thus we come to the eighth degree of humility, where the monk does only what the Rule of the monastery and the example of the seniors prescribe (RB 7). The monk here disregards self, considering solely the practice of the written Rule as it is lived. Thus it becomes possible for the many in the monastery still to observe one and the same order. In this manner the individual monk can be assumed into the community by means of the observances and still be preserved from a competitive spirit and the mania of making an impression by external conduct. Observance and the order it guarantees form the backbone of the community (cf. RB 63).

But that is not all. Observance is to be discreet, that is, it should be seen together with the charism of every individual, because a mutual relationship exists between the form of life that is lived and the love that is sought. Love—also the true love which seeks after the true God—needs a form, namely, observances and interior conversion, because man is composed of body and soul. No one can live by feelings alone; besides, they are too abstract. The interior element—the love that is humility—is sought through externals and by means of externals: dedication to the Work of God, the concrete practice of silence and persistence in holy reading, the practice of personal prayer, seeking for solitude and sobriety. In that manner a person gives himself to God. And so, through these externals, one is formed, liberated, purified and interiorized. Fidelity to externals may prevent a person from going astray internally. Benedict says that a certain severity is necessary in order to preserve the soul and to persist in love (RB Prol). Some severity is also required to keep the community alive. If monks begin to wallow in their own experiences, they separate from one another and splinter the community, for inner experiences cannot be bound together except by means of forms and institutions. If people are intent solely on their own experiences, the important aspect of their life-parameters—the sense for horizontal relationships—gets lost, and the individual withdraws into his own shell. Then personal emotions become the "rule." Anyone who has lived more than three weeks in community knows that no rule ever becomes so hard and binding as that which one has created on the basis of feelings.

Still, with a view to what is "farther" and "beyond," the observance may be surpassed. Here surpassing means nothing else than this: within the framework of the monastic life the wide field of a humble love without limits presents itself. This framework no longer sets any goals to be attained, but offers a springboard to greater divestment of self, to ever more intense prayer, to an evergrowing concern for the welfare of the brethren. And then the God who is love itself will indicate to the monk how to walk; he points to the observances and gives discernment as to what is essential in them.

What Does "According to the Rule" Mean?⁶

We might have spoken very optimistically about the power of the Rule, about the significant place it occupies in the life of the monk and about its formative character. Yet, in many respects, the Rule cannot be followed literally today. And that holds true not only for matters that are clearly of secondary importance, but precisely of such as the Rule itself regards as essential. Here are a few examples: no longer is everything subject to the abbot's judgment, but in some cases the decision is left to the community (cf. RB 3); usually the Psalter is no longer recited within a week (RB 18); monks occupy individual cells (RB 22); a great moderation of the fast and abstinence from flesh-meat has come into Vogue (cf. RB 41). How are such things to be judged? How can one know whether these changes are in accord with the Rule or not?

In a general way two extreme attitudes exist regarding these questions.⁷ First there is the concept: the literal observance of the Rule leads to important experiences. This implies that one must remain faithful to the letter of the Rule in order to follow the path of the spiritual experiences of St. Benedict. Spirit and letter, content and form, cannot be separated. The Divine gives itself only through these observances, and becomes palpable, experienced only in the letter. Dom de Vogüé says quite simply, "Apart from the practice of definite observances, the spirit of St. Benedict is only a word." Hence the necessity of abiding by the letter. In other words, observances produce their own light; the monk must abide by them in order later to see the light which is in them.

Opposed to this is the second attitude: St. Benedict was concerned about handing on an inspiration. Benedict did this in forms accommodated to his time—culturally, socially and economically. The forms must be sacrificed in order to liberate the inspiration found in them and to prevent the letter from killing the spirit that wants to incarnate itself in contemporary monachism. When times change (as they have in the past fifteen centuries), a form bound to a particular era may suffocate inspiration. Not even Dom de Vogüé would insist that children be "offered" to the monastery (cf. RB 59). The modern age simply does not tolerate such a practice.

It is obvious that these two concepts are mutually exclusive. Still, both want to remain faithful to the Rule, want to embrace the Rule as norm and guide of life. An example may illustrate this dilemma—if it is a dilemma. The monk's life seeks to observe solitude in a definite manner. Now, does one arrive at solitude by following the observances with a certain literalness, or do not the forms prescribed by Benedict rather hinder a genuine (experience of) solitude in favor of a pseudosolitude? Or consider this: St. Benedict wants to lead his monks to a true life of poverty; they are not to possess anything and should be satisfied with the least. Does one attain this by following his rules, or does one not rather become mired in an unreal bourgeois world in which one has everything—without so-called ownership? Or take this case: Is separation from the world really accomplished if monks follow the Rule literally? Or does it not rather demand a sincere turning away from the world of the rich, from a bourgeois mentality, from economic conformism? The problem is clear: Must the Rule be accepted as a literal norm, or must one go beyond the Rule in order to remain faithful to it? In other words, must monks do what St. Benedict says, or must they do what he would have said in our situation?

Doubtless it was Benedict's intention to create a framework by means of which monks might become free spirits, a framework that clearly should stand at the edge of the social structure. This last observation means that Benedict intended to prescribe a life style in which socially endangered values (reading, prayer, human relationships and so on) would expressly find their place with a view to the spiritual growth of the monks. Thereby the monks are to become free, spiritual persons, free for contact with the living God, free for the joys and the difficulties of life in a group, free with regard to material things. In the Rule the following can be discerne: In the first place it assigns a certain priority to the framework (for the sake of freedom, one must accept tradition); then it shows that this alone leads to interior experience; thirdly, it is made clear that only fidelity to the end by way of struggle, sorrow and disappointment leads to final freedom.

But the other side of the coin is just as clear: imitation, of itself, does not mean freedom. Forms can lead a life of their own, which, as it were, bypass the soul of the monk. They may represent mere window dressing. By imposing the old forms one may lead people to bypass life, and that, as the problem of the place of the monastery in today's world shows, has happened in one way or another. While insisting on forms, monks may be shielded against the risk of life and the Holy Spirit. This may lead to a certain superficiality, the result of identifying with a pre-existing scheme of thought and life; it obliges monks to dwell in an oasis not conducive to spiritual growth, where they must maintain the status quo at all costs. And that can never have been the intention of the Rule!

So again the question: What does "to live according to the Rule" mean? In the following I shall treat, only in passing, five important points that must be borne in mind in any discussion about the relevance of the Rule, its letter and its spirit.

In the first place, an enthusiasm, an eagerness, for the monastic life is presupposed. By this I mean to say: Everyone at one time experienced a calling, a vocation, to be a monk, a vocation to live exclusively for God, a vocation to live by prayer both personal and communal, a vocation to "leave" (be it a position, the "world," particular relationships and so on), a vocation to live from an interior source. This calling is the true mystery of the monk's life. In the course of the years it may have changed, been buried, covered over, but it is and remains the heart of the monastic life.

I repeat, there must exist enthusiasm, a definite commitment, a certain glowing zeal, to progress farther on the way—the way of prayer, of living for God. Hence there must also be a zeal for the great constitutive elements of the monk's life: Sacred Scripture, silence, a degree of solitude, moderation in all things. If this enthusiasm suffers, all these forms degenerate into restraints, limitations of freedom. Every observance becomes a burden; it remains purely external, and the feeling arises, "Is that also forbidden?" Our life becomes worldly, and the Rule no longer plays a role or at the most is looked upon as an outdated book of etiquette, and the question, "What does it mean 'to live according to the Rule'?" becomes irrelevant. In such a situation monks live only according to their transient desires.

Something of this attitude always lurks around the corner as a danger which manifests itself in the fear to try new, vitalizing, demanding ways, in a violent defense of positions and functions that were once embraced, and in a rigid reference to tradition. No; enthusiasm is demanded, above all enthusiasm to walk the way of the life of God-—with heart and soul, fearlessly, with imagination and with fidelity.

In the second place, fidelity to the basic inspiration of the Rule is required. This basic inspiration I presented above in the four basic values: a sense for the subjective, a sense for horizontal relationships, striving for humility and love, discreet observance. Monks must ask themselves sincerely: What role do these basic values play in my life? Am I really concerned about bettering my attitude qualitatively in all that I do? In my concrete decisions, if there is a choice in the work I am to perform, in the relationships I foster within and without the monastery, in my hobbies and so on, does a great concern for the Rule play a predominant part, namely, do I see something of the living God in the faces of my community? Or, by defensively and fearfully clinging to the past, do I seek to go my own way and live in my own world? Do I try to serve? Am I available to others? And lastly, regarding the rules that are actually in force in the monastery, do I resist or exercise a minimal and niggardly sort of compliance? Or do I generously follow them, without constantly nibbling away at the edges?

By now this should be clear: before one can ask about concrete points, whether this or that is really in accordance with the Rule, the question must be answered by practice in life. Am I faithful in a magnanimous way to the four basic values of the Rule? If someone seeks to bypass them, then all the talk about changes in observance, about aggior-namento and so on, becomes an unholy, nitpicking attempt at justification through rationalization.

In the third place, it is necessary to have reverence for forms. The monastic life-framework exists to attract people, not to force them. It is there to lead to an inner experience. The manner in which we treat the framework also characterizes the way we consider our own inner experiences; care for externals reflects our care for the inner element, and the solicitude with which we treat rules and forms gives an idea as to how we regard our vocation. On the other hand, the framework must give witness to an intensive inner life, for without culture there is no soul, and without a soul there is no culture.

Fourthly, and only on the basis of the above three points may one ask, What is in accordance with the Rule at the present time? The Rule may never be interpreted in such a way that it disappears. Naturally, it cannot be handled like a yardstick which one applies to life, so that as a result one can say, "This is and that is not in accordance with the Rule." What, then, are we to do? Now, the Rule must prove its authenticity; it must be viable. Every interpretation must be able to be lived as a viable witness to the basic values of the monastic life. In other words, every interpretation that actually leads away from humility, discreet observance, a sense for the subjective, and for horizontal relationships, is a false, worthless interpretation not in accordance with the Rule and consequently untrue. Naturally, interpretations must not be made on an individual basis; the Rule is also the bond that binds the monks together. Hence a decision must be made by the community, must be the result of an exchange of views in which everyone is respected by reason of the mystery of one's vocation, by reason of one's relationship to God. Further, this criterion must be observed: Every interpretation that would bypass the vocation of (one of) the members of the community, that would show too little reverence for it, is a worthless interpretation and hence not in accord with the Rule. Validity presupposes solidarity. In other words, whether one lives according to the Rule (correctly or not) depends also on whether one lives with others regarding the basic values. And that includes the possibility of diversity of views, but always with reverence for one another.

Finally, the fifth point. The Rule is a rule for life. In a certain sense the Rule is in danger of disappearing as a norm of life. And here I return to its absolute and progressive character. It is a Rule that wants to urge us "farther," "beyond," to more intensive prayer, more fruitful reading, more eloquent silence, a more humane community. Every interpretation which, from the community standpoint, leads toward that goal is valid. But for that, it is also required that we read the Rule by directing one eye to the text and the other to our life, reverently, with a readiness to listen, with a practical sense, and with the desire truly to leave everything in order finally to experience God himself.

Notes

¹ Basic values: in order to limit the notes in this section, the following works of A. de Vogüé are listed and freely cited: La communauté et l'abbé dans la Règle de Saint Benoît (Brugge 1966); La Règle du Maître, 3 vols. (Paris 1964-65); La Règle de Saint Benoít, 7 vols. (Paris 1971-77).

² In Benedictijns Tijdschrift (1980) pp. 46-47.

³Ibid., pp. 53-65.

⁴La Vie monastique selon Saint Benoít (Paris 1979) pp. 187-212.

⁵La Règle de Saint Benoît I:57.

⁶ Cf. A. Zegveld, "Wat wil zeggen: volgens de regel?" in Monastieke Informatie 56 (1978) 79-106, translated in Collectanea Cisterciensia 41 (1979) 157-76, under the title "Que veut dire: selon la Règle?" What I discussed there is not repeated here.

⁷ Here I am reliant on A. de Vogüé, "S. Benoît aujourd'hui. La vie monastique et son aggiornamento" in Nouveau Revue Theologique (1978) pp. 720-33; and A. Veilleux, "Le rôle de la sous-culture monastique dans la formation du moines" in NRT (1978) pp. 734-49.