Weekend Wonderings -- Penitential Ponderings

The Rule of BenedictChapter 49 ~ The Observance of Lent

The life of a monastic ought to be a continuous Lent. Since few, however, have the strength for this, we urge the entire community during these days of Lent to keep its manner of life most pure and to wash away in this holy season the negligences of other times. 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. During these days, therefore, we will add to the usual measure of our service something by way of private prayer and abstinence from food or drink, so that each of us will have something above the assigned measure to offer God of our own will with the joy of the Holy Spirit (1 Thes 1:6). In other words, let each one deny themselves some food, drink, sleep, needless talking and idle jesting, and look forward to holy Easter with joy and spiritual longing.

All should, however, make known to the prioress or abbot what they intend to do, since it ought to be done with their prayer and approval. Whatever is undertaken without the permission of the prioress or abbot will be reckoned as presumption and vainglory, not deserving a reward. Therefore, everything must be done with their approval.

Once again, Benedict acknowledges the weaknesses of human nature. All throughout the Rule, he includes himself in the the slackers of humanity — "We read, after all, that our holy Fathers, energetic as they were, did all this in a single day. Let us hope that we, lukewam as we are, can achieve it in a whole week" [RB 18:25]; at the end of the Rule he discusses all the books that can guide us — "For observant and obedient monks, all these are nothing less than tools for the cultivation of virtues; but as for us, they make us blush for shame at being so slothful, so unobservant, so negligent" [RB 73:7]. That's why he calls this a "little rule for beginners." It's so reassuring that Benedict doesn't talk down to us, like he's the one with all the answers and we're all just pathetic pond scum. And I think that recognition of our humanness plays a significant part in the enduring appeal of Benedict's Rule, not just for monastics, but with applications to all levels and styles of life.

But, I digress. I mainly, with that rambling, wanted to point out his line of how we should always be living the "good" life of Lent, but since a huge majority of us aren't that strong-willed, we should at least make the most of these forty days before us. And the fact that, in Benedict's eyes, the lack of a "continual Lent" is perfectly OK, understandable, and acceptable. Like my quote from Kathleen Norris last week, it's the me-bashing because I'm not perfect that's the real issue to be addressed.

And if I may digress a tiny bit further to clear up any potential misconceptions ... the element of getting the abbot's approval is not so they can check up on us, or to pass judgmenton what we feel to be an appropriate Lenten practice. It's more for the element of support and blessing. And, as I mentioned before in the context of Benedict's Steps of Humility, there's something to be said for sharing your heart with someone or, in this case, sharing your intention. For me, it's partially the external accountability -- not that the prioress will come to me on Easter morning and ask if I maintained my Lenten practice, but having told her that "This is what I intend to do" makes me feel more responsible to follow-through with it.

A couple year ago, I was reading one of Thomas Keating's books (I'm pretty sure it was him, anyway --- apologies if I'm remembering wrong), and he told of the Lenten practices in his Trappist monastery "back in the day." At that time, it was almost a competition among the monks about who could make it through the Lenten fast; thus the "sacrifice" turned into more of a battle for pride. Anyway, Keating (or whoever) had some health issues that caused him to have to give up the fast partway through Lent. Nonetheless, the one year he felt his health was up to it, and he requested permission from the abbot to fast as his Lenten practice -- he wasn't gonna faint this year. Much to his dismay, not only did the abbot not grant him permission to fast, but actually assigned him the practice of going to the refectory every afternoon at 3:00 to eat a Hershey bar and drink a full glass of milk. Needless to say, Father Keating was horrified. At this time, he was the Novice Master. How could he sit there and eat chocolate while he was trying to instruct these new members in the way of monastic life? He initially tried to hide this practice, but then realized that this "penance" was in fact a far greater sacrifice for him than fasting. To submit to the wisdom of the abbot, who knew that what was truly needed here was gaining the weight, strength, and health ... to go against what all the cool monks were doing ... to do something that ran so contrary to his desires and inclinations ... that was what made the Lenten sacrifice for him. And he then used it as a teachable moment for his novices.

As Keating (or whoever) learned .... it's not about doing the "right" thing. It's about doing the right thing for you. And sometimes it might look like the "wrong" thing to someone else, but it's not about "what others will think," either. I think it was my postulant year, where one of my three things was that I would do something for me every day. Sounds selfish and horrendously non-sacrificial, but the truth of the matter was that I was so focused on my classes and jobs and all the things that I "should" be doing that I was completely ignoring and neglecting myself. So whether it was reading a fun book, or doing photography stuff, or playing piano, or wandering the grounds ... each and every one of those forty days I had to do something fun and non-necessary. While it may appear to be totally lazy and slackerish, the reality was that it forced me to consider myself worthy of my own time rather than dismiss my own value, desires, and interests. Me spending intentional time for me doesn't happen because there's all that "more important" stuff out there ... so me needing to actively indulge my interests was in fact the bigger sacrifice than doing extra work would have been.

The "traditional" Lenten observances of the Church revolve around the concepts of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving (our prioress presents it this year as a balance between "giving up" and "giving to", of shaping both our relationships with God and others). I've tended to broaden my understanding of these ideas, though. After all, fasting isn't limited to food -- is giving up candy so I can lose a few pounds more sacrificial than fasting from complaining about people and gossiping? (My favorite attempts growing up always included giving up homework and lima beans ... not quite the spirit of the thing, though!) And almsgiving is more than just throwing a few extra pennies in the pot on Sundays ... what about taking the time to go up and visit the folks in the monastery infirmary, or to intentionally sit at the same dinner table as the sister who annoys me?

It's tough, because I've always struggled with the idea of choosing something I should be doing anyway as a Lenten practice. It's like at school -- sometimes, if a kid asks me for something and I'm feeling feisty, I'll ask "What's in it for me?" When they say they'll behave in class or do their homework or their love and respect or anything like that, I point out that they should be doing that anyway. Same thing here. If I give up candy because I want to lose weight, or decide to eat more fruit because I don't get enough of them in my system ... then, in my mind, I'm thinking about a diet, not Lent. Which makes it hard, then, because there's so much that I "should" already be doing, and don't. I guess that's why I tend to think broader than the obvious automatics. That, and the fact that I've gotta be odd, freakish, and different.

And that's not to say that giving up foods are bad. The year before I entered community, I gave up ice cream, and it was not a fun Lent -- especially since I had spent the winter perfecting my milkshake making skills. Plus, I didn't manage to finish my ice cream before Ash Wednesday, so I got to see it looking at me every time I opened my freezer to get out some ice cubes. Sigh. But I was giving it up because I love ice cream ... and, believe me, I went back to the ice cream after Easter. I guess for me it's more the idea of "Am I doing this to better myself and strengthen myself, or is this just convenient timing?"

But the time has come once again to fill out my Bona Opera (that's Latin for "Good Work," not a bunch of singing rawhide chewies in Viking hats), the sheet on which we share our Lenten practice with the prioress, and request her permission. It's kinda cool — the prioress receives them all, signs each one with a blessing; they all get blessed during the Ash Wednesday Mass, and then they get returned to us. Our current prioress has added to the Bona Opera an element out of Chapter 48 of the Rule (which, incidentally enough, is titled "The Daily Manual Labor" ... and yet it talks mostly about reading!): "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."

And so ... I'm thinkin' of getting a little outside inspiration. Of course, that assumes that I've got anyone still reading after all this rambling ....

And so may I present ..... the Wonderings of the Weekend:

What are your thoughts Lenten practices?
What about reading a book for Lent?
Any suggestions for me on either one? :-)
Thanks, and Happy Lenting!