SOURCE: "Personal Prayer in the Rule of Benedict," The American Benedictine Review, Vol. 40, No. 3, September, 1989, pp. 291-303.

[In the following essay, Theisen focuses on the methods of prayer and sacred reading contained in the Rule of St. Benedict.]

The monk in Benedict's monastery leads a rather simple and balanced life: public prayer with the community; private reading, study, and prayer; manual labor; public reading; refection; and sleep. In this paper I propose to look at 1) features of personal or private prayer in the Rule of Benedict, 2) notions of listening to the word of God, 3) values of sacred reading, and 4) methods of listening and praying. My purpose is to suggest how people of today can use the Benedictine experience for their prayer life, an experience that has stood the test of time since the appearance of the Rule of Benedict in the middle of the sixth century.

Simple and Heartfelt Prayer

Benedict legislates in great detail for the service of public prayer by day and by night, but he devotes only a few paragraphs to the theology and method of prayer.¹ In Chapter 19, which deals directly with common prayer, Benedict provides two principles of prayer: remembrance of the presence of God and harmony between mind and voice; in other words, paying attention to the divine subject of prayer and the meaning of the psalms.

Benedict broaches the subject of private, individual prayer more explicitly in Chapter 20 which bears the title "Reverence in Prayer." His first reason for reverence in prayer seems rather mundane: we customarily approach important and powerful persons with respect and humility. He reasons that a reverent bearing should guide our approach to the very God of the universe.

In recommending this approach to God, however, Benedict uses two phrases that help us understand his notion of prayer. He wants his monks to petition God "with the utmost humility and sincere devotion" (cum omni humilitate et puritatis devotione). The word humility is key in the spirituality of Saint Benedict. It describes the disposition of total dependence on God. The monk is taught in Chapter 7 to be empty of pride and self-will, to follow the obedience of Christ, and to regard himself as an unworthy servant. The monk acknowledges his sin and his emptiness in the presence of God. With such a disposition the monk is ready to receive the favor of God.

If humility represents the emptiness with which we should come into the presence of God, sincere devotion designates the intensity and fullness that should characterize the human heart at prayer. The Latin of verse 2 reads literally: "with the devotion of purity." "Sincere devotion" is a commendable translation but it does not catch all the nuances of the Latin phrase. The word "devotion" depicts the person's dedication to God; connotations of vows and commitment are also present in the word. "Purity" refers to the simplicity, the straightforwardness, and the single-mindedness of the disposition. The person of pure devotion, having removed outer noise and inner distraction, attends wholeheartedly to the Lord.

Verse 3 of Chapter 20 begins (in Latin) with an indication of what should not characterize our prayer: "many words." Benedict most likely has Jesus' admonition in mind: "In your prayer do not rattle on like the pagans. They think they will win a hearing by the sheer multiplication of words" (Mt 6:7). The multiplication of words creates noisy static that militates against the disposition of simplicity and single-mindedness. It also goes counter to the inner emptiness that is required of the humble heart.

Verse 3 continues with two phrases that more sharply define the kind of disposition that Benedict promotes: "purity of heart and tears of compunction" (in puritate cordis et compunctione lacrimarum). Here we meet the word puritas once again, this time conjoined to the word "heart." Since genuine prayer comes from the heart, Benedict specifies that the heart must be pure, single-minded, and unclouded. It cannot be a heart that is distracted, heavy, and complicated. The pure of heart are disposed to see God. As one monk has put it: "Blessed are the pure in heart, who have become as little children, for they shall see God in all things."²

The prayer that Benedict has in mind is also marked with "tears of compunction" (literally, according to the Latin, "with the compunction of tears"). Compunction refers to the piercing of the heart to make it responsive to God. The monk at prayer experiences a lancing of the heart, effected by God and resulting in a stream of tears. The heart not only experiences sorrow for personal sins but also the pressure and presence of God. Both sorrow for sins and joy in the love of God result in a flow of tears.³

Surprisingly, given the traditional command "to pray without ceasing," Benedict directs that prayer should be "short and pure, unless perhaps it is prolonged under the inspiration of divine grace" (RB 20.4). Perhaps he wants this personal prayer to be short because it is nearly impossible to maintain its simplicity and intensity over a long period of time; the type of prayer he has in mind is more like a glance directed to the face of God.

For the third time in this chapter we come across the word "pure," this time in adjectival form. As explained above, the word pure here means simple, without complication, without obstruction, direct, and straightforward.

Benedict advocates brief and direct prayer unless prolonged by God, literally (according to the Latin) "unless perhaps it is prolonged by the affection of the inspiration of divine grace" (ex affectu inspirationis divinae gratiae). The sense of the passage is that God's favor may very well impart great fervor and thus promote an extension of the time of prayer. The glance may turn into a prolonged contemplation. But Benedict seems to imply that such is not always the case; in fact, that such is the exception rather than the rule.

Another significant reference to private prayer occurs in Chapter 52, "The Oratory of the Monastery." One gets the impression that Benedict's oratory is simple and austere. It is designed for one purpose only—to accommodate the brothers at prayer. It is not a multipurpose room as many of our churches are today. Benedict's oratory surely has an altar (see RB 58.20, 29; 59.2; 62.6), but it is significant that the place is named, not from the presence of the altar and the Eucharist which must be celebrated there from time to time, but from the divine office which is accomplished there: "The oratory ought to be what it is called …" (RB 52.1).

Benedict notes with satisfaction the possibility that a brother will remain in the oratory for private prayer after the completion of the Liturgy of Hours. He also desires that a monk go into the oratory at other times for private prayer. In this context he provides us with more of his thought about the qualities of private prayer. The monk, he says, "may simply go in and pray, not in a loud voice, but with tears and heartfelt devotion." He repeats some terms and ideas from Chapter 20. But some terms are new and here the ideas are expressed differently. The negative in Chapter 20 was "not in many words"; here the negative is expressed with the phrase "not in a loud voice." God does not need the loud voice, of course, and in the oratory the loud voice would disturb others who wish to pray there.

The reference to tears occurs once again. Obviously the ancients were not embarrassed with a flow of tears to express their emotions of sorrow or love; in fact, tears were regarded as a gift of God and a noble way of acquiring purification and virtue.

The new phrase is "heartfelt devotion" (intentione cordis). Our English translation is fairly accurate, but it does not contain all the overtones and undertones of the Latin phrase intentio cordis. The word "heart" qualifies the word intentio which here denotes the heart's attention to God. Michael Casey sums up an analysis of the phrase with these words:

What he [the monk who follows Benedict's advice] experiences is what constantly takes place beyond the limits of consciousness, the inevitable stretching forth of the human heart toward its God. Prayer for Saint Benedict, therefore, is a matter of concentration of heart: concentration in the sense of an active effort to restrict other activities, thoughts and desires; concentration in the sense of strengthening one's awareness of the reality of the heart's movement toward God; concentration in the sense of returning to one's centre.4

Listening to the Word of God

Benedict begins his Rule with the word "listen" (obsculta). No better word could characterize the whole monastic enterprise, for the Christian turns to the monastic life precisely so that he or she can hear the word of God. Of course, the word of God is found elsewhere; in fact, the monk generally hears it elsewhere and finds that for him it leads to the monastery, a place steeped in the word. The word is sounded frequently throughout the monastic day: in the public prayer of the community, in the private readings of the Bible, and in the teachings of the abbot. The word is present in abundance, but it bears no fruit if no one is there to listen to it with an attentive heart.

Benedict exhorts the monk to obedience because obedience is closely akin to listening. "The labor of obedience will bring you back to him from whom you had drifted through the sloth of disobedience" (RB Prologue 2). There is no obedience without first listening. Heeding the word of God implies that one first hears the word and is disposed to listen with attention. Heeding the word implies that one overcomes the sloth of disobedience and makes one's journey back to God. Listening with the heart is a way of life.

Benedict does not concern himself with questions about whether or not the word of God is present; he is convinced in faith that it is present. While he does not cite the prologue of John's Gospel, he surely hears its central statement: "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we have seen his glory: the glory of an only Son coming from the Father, filled with enduring love" (Jn 1:14). The word of God, therefore, is not in a distant land, unapproachable and impenetrable. The word of God is present in the midst of the monastery, ready to be perceived by those who listen and heed.

Benedict is acquainted with the teaching of the Letter to the Hebrews. Its author draws out the implications of the Word made flesh, extending the Word's presence to our inmost being:

Indeed, God's word is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword. It penetrates and divides soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the reflections and thoughts of the heart. Nothing is concealed from him; all lies bare and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must render an account. (Heb 4:12-13)

Benedict does not cite this passage from Hebrews, but he must have read it and he perceived the truth of it. He states, for instance, that God sees the heart of the monk who obeys but grumbles (RB 5.18). We have already seen that according to Benedict the public prayer of the community takes place in the presence of the God of the universe. God penetrates the heart; the word of God slices to the center of our being.

Benedict regards the monk as a listener to the word of God. He does not speculate on this human activity as does Father Karl Rahner, an insightful theologian of our day! Rahner, it is well known, defines humans as hearers of the word, persons listening for the word, persons transcendentally oriented to the divine.⁵ Benedict is content to remind the monk of the presence of God and to make sure that the word reverberates throughout the monastery on a daily and hourly basis. He assumes quite naturally that it is possible for the monk to perceive the word and to carry it out in practice.

Benedict is not bothered by any doubt about whether there is a dialogue partner in the heavens. Or so it seems in the Rule and in the Dialogues of Saint Gregory. Benedict assumes the presence of a God, someone who addresses the monk in a direct fashion. Many Christians today, and others throughout history, find this God distant or evanescent; they feel alone and isolated. Such is the experience of some modern monks as well, at least for certain periods of their lives. God seems far away and the monk feels alone. It is at this time that the monk should ponder the two aspects of the divine being: silence and word. At times he will relate to silence, and at times to the word.⁶

Benedict's solution is attention to the word, a listening to the heart of the word in the midst of human life. God is really present in the Sacred Scriptures. The real presence of Jesus is not confined to the sacrament of the altar but extends to the words of the Bible.⁷ Benedict does not state the matter in precisely these terms, but he is convinced that Christ is present in the words of prayer; in fact, he also finds Christ in the guest, in the sick, and in the abbot.

What becomes apparent, therefore, is that people are words of God to each other. God speaks forth a word and the universe comes into being. The universe becomes a word of God; human beings become words of God.⁸ Benedict does not carry his thinking this far; at least he does not this language. But today we can acknowledge the truth of the ubiquity of the word in our universe. We are words to each other; the world at large is a word to us.

If we are the word of God in our own fashion, we should be extremely sensitive to the intrusion of the divine word around us. Some teachers stress the ubiquity of the word and advise us to read the word everywhere: in a piece of poetry, in a sunset, in human love, in a smile, etc. There is no dearth of words; but there is a lack of attention to the words of every moment and of every experience.

Each monk listens for the word, but the word is not just for the individual; it is for the whole community. In fact, the whole commnunity listens for the word and receives it better when many concentrate on the word. Individual perceptions of the word are corrected by the perceptions of others. Community listening ultimately results in a community commentary on the word.

The word that we hear leads us to a new understanding of ourselves and the world. It leads us to new challenges. Thomas Merton expressed this truth when speaking of the Bible: "We all instinctively know that it is dangerous to become involved in the Bible. The book judges us, or seems to judge us, on terms to which at first we could not possibly agree."⁹

Benedict never offers his monks a vacation from listening to the word of God. The word is always present, and listening for it is always a duty and a pleasure. Monks wait patiently for the word to clarify itself, even though they know that it is never entirely clear. But it is the task of monks and it is the task of people generally to wait in patience for the unfolding of the word of God. The Scriptures are like flowers that open up if people have the patience to stand before them in expectation.

Sacred Reading

It should be apparent that listening is not confined to the Divine Office or to the conferences of the abbot. Listening takes place throughout the day in a great variety of ways. But a primary way of listening in Benedict's monastery is sacred reading. The practice is called lectio divina. The full phrase, which occurs only once in the Rule (48.1), is variously translated: divine reading, sacred reading, prayerful reading, spiritual reading. The word divina evidently refers to the divine character of the text and the godly practice of sacred reading.

Benedict never explains the method of sacred reading; he does not even devote a chapter to the subject, though the topic comes up most frequently in Chapter 48: "The Daily Manual Labor." He assumes that his monks will involve themselves in this practice for three, four, and even five hours a day.¹⁰ When he sets up the horarium of the monastery, especially the times for manual labor, he makes certain that the monks have ample time for sacred reading. He begins Chapter 48 with the general principle: "Idleness is the enemy of the soul. Therefore, the brothers should have specified periods for manual labor as well as for prayerful reading" (RB 48.1). He then proceeds to set up the schedule of the day, alternating manual labor and sacred reading. The times for both vary according to the season of the year, but in all cases he seems to preserve prime time for lectio divina; he is also careful not to prescribe manual labor during the hottest hours of summer.

Benedict even allows a siesta during the summer months, both because of the heat and because of the shorter nights for sleeping. He does not require the siesta, and he allows a brother to read privately at that time if he wishes; but he warns him not to disturb others (RB 48.5). This little admonition gives us a clue to the method of reading in Benedict's time. They normally read aloud and not silently to themselves. This practice should not surprise us, for it was common among the ancients. Even today some people find that they can study a text better if they read it aloud; and English teachers recommend the oral reading of poetry for better enjoyment and understanding.

What did the monks read? The primary book was the Bible, but sacred reading also included commentaries on the Bible, the writings of earlier monastic authors, and the writings of noted Christian authors. They believed that the message of the Sacred Scriptures could be articulated outside the Bible itself. We should not assume, however, that Benedict's monastery, or most monasteries of that time, possessed a large number of volumes. Books were precious and expensive. But since Benedict refers to the reading of various authors such as Saint Basil, his monastery must have owned a representative number of books.

Benedict makes specific mention of the distribution of books at the beginning of Lent: "During this time of Lent each one is to receive a book from the library, and is to read the whole of it straight through. These books are to be distributed at the beginning of Lent" (RB 48.15-16). One author suggests that Benedict is speaking about various sections of the Bible.¹¹ In any event there is reference to a place where books are kept (bibliotheca). The texts are handed out at the beginning of Lent, both to show that monks should be especially observant during this sacred time of the year but also to indicate that sacred reading is an opus, i.e., a task, a discipline, and an ascetical work.

During their reading periods the monks could pore over or devote themselves to the psalms (cf. RB 48.13). They not only studied the psalms, which formed the bulk of their Divine Office, they also learned them by heart, both for purposes of recitation in choir and for prayerful recall during the day.

Sunday is a special day of reading for Benedict. One gets the impression that much of the day is devoted to this practice: "On Sunday all are to be engaged in reading except those who have been assigned various duties. If anyone is so remiss and indolent that he is unwilling or unable to study or to read, he is to be given some work in order that he may not be idle" (RB 48.22-23). One might conclude from this passage that some of Benedict's monks were illiterate and therefore had to be given some other task to occupy themselves.

The passage also throws more light on Benedict's method of reading; he uses the words "to study or to read" (meditare aut legere). Are these practices entirely separate occupations or are they similar? Benedict seems to find them more similar than not. Both in study and in reading the monk ponders the text, ruminates on it, savors it, even learns it or some of it by heart. The text is not just something to absorb for its informational value; it is designed to lead to prayer. Prayer is a natural outgrowth of the reading of the text. Prayer is the very goal of the reading.

One gets a feel for this prayerful reading in a passage that occurs in Chapter 49, "The Observance of Lent." Benedict wants his monks to live intense and penitential lives during Lent. "This we can do in a fitting manner by refusing to indulge evil habits and by devoting ourselves to prayer with tears, to reading, to compunction of heart and self-denial" (RB 49.4). The four practices are not entirely distinct. It takes self-denial to devote oneself to reading and to prayer. Moreover, prayer with tears and compunction of heart can develop directly out of sacred reading; poring over the sacred words leads one to a prayerful relationship to the presence of God. Reading, therefore, is a discipline of prayer.

It is clear that Benedict does not regard the Divine Office as the only period of prayer in the horarium of his monastery. Prayer continues throughout the day but in different modes and methods: the public prayer of the Divine Office, prayerful reading, the remembrance of God during the hours of manual labor and at all times of the day. The monastic life is structured in such a manner that monks may give themselves over to the ascetical practices of reading and prayer. The monk has space opened up in his life for sacred reading and for prayer and tears. His life is simply given up to prayer.

Methods of Listening and Praying

It remains to review briefly the monastic methods of private prayer and to make some suggestions for all who wish to deepen their prayer today. Monastic methods need not be confined to monasteries; they are adaptable to other circumstances.

Benedict's Rule teaches us first of all that we need to make space in the day for sacred reading and private prayer. We need to have leisure for this discipline. If prayerful reading is important, and we are convinced that it should be a part of every Christian's life, space must be made in the schedule of the day.

Each person should find a suitable place and set aside the same time each day, a period in which he or she is usually not disturbed, e.g., early in the morning, before work, or late in the evening. It is important to view that time as one's own sacred time. One should look forward to it as to a time for listening, as a time to come into contact with one's deepest thoughts and feelings. One can regard this personal time as the day's anchor. All else takes on direction and meaning in terms of this private contact with God.

The time for prayerful reading and listening will automatically bring about a slowing down of one's thoughts and activities. Our life is usually frenetic and we very much need to slow down, to take time for reflection and prayer.

Creating a space in the day for private reading and prayer does not mean that we do not listen for the word at other times. Listening should be our stance throughout the day, for the word comes to us in many ways: through other persons, through our community, through the changes of nature, etc. Of course, we need to listen selectively and with discretion because there is a glut of sounds in our society and we are surely limited in the number of words we can assimilate.

The monastic method teaches us that we do not read the Scriptures only for the information that they provide. Of course, we need to know much about the origin and nature of the Bible (authors, forms of writing, languages, etc.). Lectio divina does not disdain a critical approach to the Scriptures; certainly this approach is required of any clear thinker today. But the point of the monastic practice is the reading with the heart as well as with the mind. It is listening with the heart, under the inspiration of the Spirit, and a response in living prayer.

Listening to the word with the mind and the heart opens the person to the influence of the Spirit. God cannot approach us with delight and freedom unless we make ourselves vulnerable to the word. Lectio divina and private prayer permit our inner selves to be touched or wounded by the word. It is a word that pierces but also heals. Prayer is basically healing and communion.

In sacred reading we need not go for mileage, trying to cover as many pages as possible in the time allotted. Sacred reading is a slow pondering of the text; perhaps one will cover only a chapter or a few paragraphs of a book. We will have to slow down if we read the Scriptures out loud or if we are careful to savor the text. Sacred reading is rumination and meditation on the text, not, a speed reading course.

If we are attentive to the sacred text, even memorizing portions of the Scriptures, especially the psalms, we can repeat words and phrases at other times, at odd moments of the day. The voices we hear in private prayer and reading can resound in our ears during the course of the day, just like a familiar tune keeps running through our mind. Attention to the word in lectio divina makes it possible for the prayer to spill over into the rest of the day.

Lectio divina may be regarded as a primer for other forms of prayer. Yes, there are many other forms of prayer: the prayer of quiet, contemplative prayer, public prayer, etc., but lectio divina may set the scene for all of them. For example, after reading a chapter or two of Sacred Scripture and a commentary, one may put aside the books and just rest in silence, letting the Spirit lead where the Spirit will. Some may prefer to repeat a mantra or to assume various methods of breathing and sitting in order to deepen the sense of quiet and centeredness. Lectio divina may lead us to all forms of quiet prayer.

It should be apparent from these reflections that the monastic methods of private prayer are not confined to monks; they are available to Christians generally. They can be adapted to anyone's disposition and schedule of life. Anyone can progress in the discipline of prayer and sacred reading. Benedict was not writing for spiritual giants but for ordinary Christians who were monks and who wished to seek God in a practical way, especially by a regular round of sound reading and heartfelt prayer. His way of prayer is still a guide for monks and for any Christian believer.

Notes

¹ The edition and English used in this paper is generally Timothy Fry, O.S.B., ed., RB 1980: The Rule of St. Benedict in Latin and English with Notes (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press 1981).

² William O. Paulsell, ed., Sermons in a Monastery: Chapter Talks by Matthew Kelty (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications 1983) p. 46. See also Jean Gribomont, O.S.B.: "The habit of recollection and above all purity of heart constitute the most efficacious preparation [for prayer]. 'Meditation,' that is to say the rumination seeping into the memory, fills up the silence and gives work a minimum of spiritual nourishment." "Prayer in Eastern Monasticism and in Saint Benedict," Word and Spirit 2 (1981) 8.

³ See Michael Casey, O.C.S.O., "Intentio cordis (RB 52.4)," Regulae Benedicti Studia 6/7 (1981) 119.

⁴Ibid.

⁵ See his Foundations of Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Idea of Christianity (New York: The Seabury Press 1978) Part I: The Hearer of the Message.

⁶ See Jean Leclercq, O.S.B., "Silence and Word in the Life of Prayer," Word and Spirit 6 (1984) 110.

⁷ Cardinal Carlo Martini says: "The Scriptures are a real presence of Jesus." "The School of the Word," Worship 61 (1987) 196.

⁸ See M. Robert Mulholland, Shaped by the Word: The Power of Scripture in Spiritual Formation (Nashville, TN: The Upper Room 1985).

⁹Opening the Bible (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press 1976) p. 33.

¹⁰ For various suggestions of time, see Bede Urekew, O.S.B., Lectio Divina in the Rule of Benedict (Rome: Private Distribution 1979) p. 585.

¹¹ See RB 1980's footnote to RB 48.15.