Category Archives: Spiritual Reflections

Spiritual Reflections

My Calling to be a Benedictine ( Part II )

From Conversion to Vocation
My Calling to be a Benedictine

A Monk ??

My first visit to Saint Vincent Archabbey, the Benedictine monastery that is now my home, was an experience of transformation and growing trust in God. Led by our campus minister I arrived with some other college students on a Friday evening and enjoyed some pizza with the group in the novitiate lounge of the monastery. I had no idea what a monastery was aside from movies and fiction novels. I had no interest in being a part of the stereotype of monastic life I had in my head from movies like Monty Python’s “The Quest for the Holy Grail.” I felt a particular call to share the gift of prayer I had received during my studies in Germany, which I had rephrased in my mind as “evangelization,” and I did not imagine that that was part of the life of a monk. So I had rather low expectations of my first visit to Saint Vincent Archabbey, but I was open and willing to learn.

After a pleasant, social time on arrival, I slept quickly and got up early to join some monks for a time of Eucharistic adoration at 5:30am in a small chapel and then later followed the monks to morning prayer and Mass with the whole monastic community in the Archabbey’s beautiful Basilica. Then after some pleasant encounters with some monks throughout the day, followed by chanted Vespers and dinner, I retired to my guest room in the monastery. I had some time before the evening recreation and so I picked up the small Rule of Saint Benedict that was in my room. Looking at the table of contents my eyes were drawn to the chapter on humility, because it was a Christian virtue I had recently become interested in. Reading the chapter on humility, however, immediately summoned up in my mind all the scary stereotypes of a harsh, inhumane, medieval monasticism that belonged more to the “Dark Ages” than to our “enlightened” modern times. (Side note: I love those passages on humility now that I have learned the deeper meaning and context in which Saint Benedict teaches us!) Suddenly the reality that I was in a monastery came crashing down on me and I wondered what had happened to my life to bring me to this point! I was aghast and started plotting my escape, not wanting to spend another night in such a place. At least I planned to hide in my bed and sleep through everything until our departure the next day.

Catching myself, I took a deep breath and said a prayer: “Jesus, I need your help! I am going to make an act of faith and go to recreation, but you need to give me something to hold on to!” Jesus is faithful. I went to recreation and discovered a cribbage game with three players awaiting a fourth. I sat down across from one of the players who was wearing a t-shirt with the words, “Ich spreche, ich lehre, ich liebe Deutsch,” and when I read it out loud, that monk lit up and engaged me in German for a few sentences. When everyone departed after our cribbage game, I stayed for almost three hours speaking to this monk and sharing with him all the events that had led me to baptism, to discern a vocation and ultimately to Saint Vincent Archabbey. In the course of sharing my journey with him, the grace returned and I was flooded with a spiritual consolation as I saw how actively God had been guiding my life. It broke through my fears and renewed my strength to stay the rest of the weekend. I left Saint Vincent the next day with such a love for the place and the monks that I declared to my spiritual director that I would love to join right away.

God directed my decision

I knew I could not join right away because I had only been baptized for a week! More important for me was the fact that I could not say I ever heard God calling me to priesthood or religious life. I knew my desire for priesthood was strong and I believed my insight to share the gift of prayer (which I had reformulated as “evangelization”) was inspired but I could not say I had heard, in a time of spiritual consolation, God confirming my call.

That confirmation came at World Youth Day in Paris. During our trip to Paris, our group spent time at the parish of Le Trinite where I had the opportunity for an extended time of Eucharistic adoration. As I knelt in the silence and read the Gospel account about the call of the first Apostles, I was inspired to ask Jesus what He wanted from me. I said to Him in my heart, “I want to do whatever you want me to do. Do you want me to become a priest?” As everything became perfectly silent inside of me in great stillness and peace, I believed I heard Him say “Yes.” That filled me with a great joy that stayed with me the rest of the day and the intensity and concreteness of the memory lingered long after that.

At the same time, it was still on my mind that my call was to “evangelization,” and so I had started to abstractly exclude the possibility of a Benedictine vocation despite the powerful first visit I had had to Saint Vincent. I did not understand how Benedictines evangelize (I can write several books on that now!). I still returned for another visit however and on that visit, one of the monks told me about a Franciscan community that was trying to live the charism of Saint Francis more radically and they were devoted to evangelization. That led me to visit the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal (the “CFRs”) in New York City. I spent a week with them and loved my visit. I loved the friars, I loved their radical zeal for the Gospel, I loved their courageous ministry to the poor and their fearless proclamation of the Gospel. I learned many things from them about how to live the faith. They helped me formulate some ideals that have stayed with me for over two decades now. To my surprise, however, that was not God’s plan for my life.

In what I planned as a final act of discernment, I divided up my spring break into several days with the CFRs followed by several days with the Benedictines at Saint Vincent Archabbey. In my days with the CFRs while I watched the postulants receive their habits as they became novices, I tried to picture myself in their gray habits. Despite my best efforts, I kept seeing myself in a black habit instead. Then as I participated in the Mass when the novices made their first vows, I tried to imagine myself kneeling there and making vows with the friars, but I kept seeing myself in the Basilica at Saint Vincent instead. Slowly an inner tension had formed during my visit to the CFRs.

In the discomfort of this inner tension, I was moved to make an act of surrender and I told the Lord that I wanted to do whatever He wanted me to do: “If you want me to go to Saint Vincent, I will go to Saint Vincent.” At that moment I was flooded with peace and all the tension was resolved. That communicated a clear message to me in spite of my preference to become a CFR at that point. But the spiritual consolation in that prayer of surrender moved me deeply and my mind quickly embraced the idea of becoming a Benedict at Saint Vincent Archabbey. A last vestige of my stubborn self-will pondered asking for the name “Francis”, but my surrender was complete when I opened to a Benedictine name and quickly remembered the name, “Boniface.” I had learned about St. Boniface during my time in Germany and remembered that he was a missionary Benedictine monk and the Apostle to Germany.

Following my visit to the CFRs I spent a few days at Saint Vincent and told the Abbot about my desire to enter the monastery. He was surprised, because I was still so newly baptized (I was Catholic for only one year at that point) and he wisely put a damper on my zeal saying that he would discuss it with the Council of Seniors. Even at that, I was not discouraged. In fact, it was a further confirmation for me because I discovered in that experience that I actually had total trust in whatever the Abbot, under consultation with the community, would discern was God’s will for me. There was a grace of obedience at work in my heart in that experience and I was already anticipating the way that God would work in my life through my Abbot. In the end, the community decided to accept me, as an exception to the general rule, only 15 months after Baptism. I entered the monastery on July 1, 1998 and I received the habit and the name Boniface a few days later.

Why a Benedictine?

In this article, I set out to explain my personal call to the Benedictine life. I have described the steps to becoming Catholic and discerning my call to Saint Vincent Archabbey, but I have revealed little about the Benedictine charism or why I believe that this is the charism I was called to embody and live out for the rest of my life. Although it sounds trite, I can say that I became a Benedictine at Saint Vincent Archabbey because I believe God called me to that. I did not become a Benedictine because we have a college or a seminary or a large community or regular liturgical prayer or a beautiful Basilica. I had some organic, human connections that brought me to the community and I believe that in prayer God called me to join that community and give my life to Him there.

As a novice I could not have described in detail what drew me to the Benedictine community at Saint Vincent Archabbey, other than prayer and the grace of God. After twenty years in the community, however, I can now see more clearly why God called me here. The initial desire that rose up in my heart is indeed the one that was able to unfold at Saint Vincent in the most beautiful way, namely “to share the gift of prayer.” Although I had translated that into “evangelization” and I have found many opportunities to evangelize, ultimately my desire was always to share the gift of prayer. I believe that was also God’s desire for me and that is why He brought me to Saint Vincent Archabbey. As a Benedictine monk in a very large and active monastery I have had abundant opportunities to learn prayer and share prayer, especially through teaching and spiritual direction.

The Benedictine life is oriented towards learning to pray. St. Benedict gives the main criterion for monastic life: “The concern must be whether the novice truly seeks God…” (RB 58:7) Fundamentally, to learn to pray is to truly seek God. The monk develops a living, personal relationship with our God who is Himself personal, in fact tri-Personal. That relationship, which is the basis for everything else, stretches across time into every moment of the monk’s life. This constant loving awareness of the presence of God could be seen as the principal theme of the Rule of Saint Benedict: “We believe that the divine presence is everywhere…” (RB 19:1). The rest of the rule arranges the life of the monk to become more responsive to God’s presence in everything he does.

In other words, the monk learns how to do everything in relationship with God. He learns how to turn his life into constant prayer. That begins with concrete prayer times as Saint Benedict makes clear in the next verse of the Rule, “But beyond the least doubt we should believe this to be especially true when we celebrate the divine office” (RB 19:2). The divine office (the liturgy of the hours) is the heartbeat of every monastery. Additionally, Saint Benedict prescribed long periods of time (up to four hours a day, as it is still practiced in more contemplative monasteries) to the practice of prayerful reading called “lectio divina.” The liturgy, lectio divina and the monastic culture of scheduled activities bracketed by prayer are the primary means for growing in prayer.

Additionally, there is a special apostolic emphasis on hospitality. This comes from the unique Benedictine vow of stability. Stability leads to the sanctification of a place and the inevitable draw for guests to experience that holy place and its praying monastic community. Saint Benedict comments in the Rule that monasteries are never without guests (RB 53:16). Furthermore, the guests at monasteries are generally those who want to share in the grace of the monastery and so we call them retreatants. The natural ministry to retreatants is teaching them to pray as a group through retreat conferences and individually through spiritual direction.

For these reasons, teaching prayer became part and parcel of my life at Saint Vincent Archabbey. As my monastic life developed, this ministry extended beyond the walls of Saint Vincent, and I began to offer retreats and spiritual direction in more diverse places and for a wide variety of people. The most recent development in my monastic journey has been to write books on spiritual direction and personal prayer and to offer spiritual direction formation for a wide range of people through our Seminary’s Institute for Ministry Formation.

I did not understand everything that God was calling me to when He drew me, through prayer, to the Benedictine monastery of Saint Vincent Archabbey, but what I have discovered and lived out has been more fulfilling than I ever dreamed possible. I am deeply grateful for my Benedictine vocation.

Fr Boniface Hicks OSB

My Calling to be a Benedictine

From Conversion to Vocation
My Calling to be a Benedictine

By Fr. Boniface Hicks OSB

A principal theme in my own faith journey is that God writes straight with crooked lines. A more eloquent way to say it would be that every calling is as unique as each individual. Another important interpretive tool is knowing that life is lived forward and understood backward. With these points in mind, I can say that I believe whole-heartedly that my life as a Benedictine monk is exactly where God wants me to be. At the same time, I can say that the more I live out this vocation the more I understand why this is where He wants me.

I was raised in a very loving and moral home, but without any religious practice. The influences of society and public education steadily led me to a scientific atheist mindset that was fortunately not well fortified. It was slowly whittled down by the witness of friends in college who were in the honors program and scientific disciplines but also attended Mass regularly. Then the real journey began for me when an evangelical man came up to me on my college campus and invited me to study the Bible with him one on one. He was a total stranger to me and, to be honest I was quite disinterested and dismissive of him in my thoughts, but when he finally asked me, after a lengthy introduction, whether I would meet with him for a Bible study, I agreed. He was a real believer and the humble, authentic witness of his relationship with God delivered the Truth through my defenses. After nine months of meetings we covered the book of Genesis through the story of Abraham before moving to the Gospel of John. After I read the Prologue of John I became a Christian. I believed that God was real and the Bible was true and I started going to Mass on Sundays.

Six months later I went to Germany for a study abroad. By that time I was meeting daily for Bible study and my life was slowly transformed as I took in the Word of God and that Word brought deeper peace to my heart. Our daily Bible study was structured like a shared lectio divina with a short reading from a passage, time for personal reflection, which we wrote down and then read to each other, and then a time of spontaneous, vocal prayer. I was receiving a lot from the Word and from these wholesome, upbuilding times of shared prayer. There was still some resistance in me, however, that emerged and I planned my trip to Germany. I thought of taking a break from all the Christian stuff I was doing, growing my hair out again, and taking advantage of the lower legal age for alcohol consumption. The man I was studying the Bible with was praying for me, however, and with some divine inspiration he said to me one morning that he wanted to send me to Germany as a missionary. I was concerned and a little afraid of that idea, but I surrendered, trusted and prayed about it. My experience in Germany was life-changing and set the stage for my vocation.

I still had some resistance when I got on the plane and formulated the thought that if God wanted me to be a missionary He could let me know. When I landed on a Saturday morning, I was met by some evangelicals from the same Bible study movement as I had been part of. I understood that they were going to take me to the train so I could continue on my way to the University in Marburg. Instead they took me to their home, fed me and visited with me. When I finally intervened and asked about getting to the train, they decided to call the University first to make sure someone would be there to meet me, but no one answered. They urged me to stay with them for the weekend lest I be stuck in a hotel in Marburg. After reluctantly agreeing, they asked if I would be willing to give my life testimony at their worship service the next day. Again I agreed reluctantly and so my second day in Germany I gave witness to God’s work in my life, in German, at a worship service. After the initial shock wore off from the unexpected change in plans, I had a beautiful weekend. God had averted my plans to drift from my Christian faith.

The real breakthrough came a few weeks later, however. After an initial language course that was easy for me, I began taking German graduate-level classes in Math and Computer Science. I was overwhelmed by school for the first time in my life. For the first time in my life I turned to God out of my weakness. I prayed for help. He intervened in miraculous ways and provided for my needs. In the wake of that, something happened one morning during my prayer time. I suddenly felt that He was close to me. A felt peace and a presence and the rest of the world became very distant. I realized that I could talk to Him and also listen for Him in my heart. The thoughts that came to me had a strangely different quality as they emerged from an interior quiet that was tangibly different from my normal experience. I felt profound love and reassurance. I was also challenged as I asked Him if there was anything in my life I needed to change. Even then, however, I knew I could tell Him that I wouldn’t be able to change that on my own and I would need His help. After that experience, I started turning to God for the smallest things—from asking which way to walk to class that day to asking which meat I should buy for dinner.

Immediately after this initial encounter with God in prayer, I realized how amazing it was that I could have such a personal relationship with Him and I spontaneously thought that it would be worth dedicating my life to sharing this gift with others. That was the kernel of my vocation—the desire to share the gift of prayer.

The Growth of a Vocation

The kernel of my vocation was in my initial experience of a personal encounter with God in prayer. In retrospect I can apply the teaching of St. Ignatius of Loyola to that experience and say that it was my first experience of spiritual consolation. In the experience of inner quiet and the presence of God that lifted me above every created thing, I was able to hear truth in my heart that I trusted and followed. In the weeks that followed that initial experience, I explored the contours of my inner experience of God, trying to understand what was necessary to be sure it was God speaking to me through the veil of faith. When I finally discovered the teaching of St. Ignatius many years later, it perfectly described what I had been trying to grasp in those initial weeks of my experience of God in prayer while I was studying in Germany.

During that grace-filled time of my life, I developed a real desire to dedicate my life to sharing the gift of prayer. So early in my Christian journey, I did not have adequate categories or concepts to work with, however. After all, I was not even baptized yet. My initial thought was to become a priest, because I knew priests dedicated their lives to sharing prayer. To demonstrate how strong my conviction was, I was not deterred in the least by the sacrifices that would entail. That felt very secondary to me at that point.

When I returned from Germany, however, my prayer life diminished. Combined with some moral lapses and the busyness of my last year of college pushed my vocation farther from my mind. In retrospect when I look at that period in my life I feel the ache of the words of Jesus in the Book of Revelation, “But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember then from what you have fallen, repent and do the works you did at first” (Rev 2:4-5). The good news is that I started RCIA at that time and began my formal journey into the Catholic Church. I had also continued with Bible study was becoming more involved in the evangelical group that promoted those one-on-one Bible studies.

Fortunately, various factors led to a renewal of my vocation. One of those factors was when the two paths I had been walking in parallel finally turned into a crossroads. My Christian journey had begun and developed through a Bible study with an evangelical group at Penn State. My religious practice had developed through attending Catholic Mass and preparing to receive the Sacraments of initiation. On the morning of Holy Thursday, after several attempts to help me see that I could not continue on these two paths in parallel indefinitely, the man I was studying the Bible with helped me to see that if I was planning to be baptized Catholic, I needed to commit myself to ministry in the Catholic Church. Otherwise I could continue with ministry in the Bible fellowship.

I did not want to break from either path. I was driven to my knees and spent the day in prayer. At one point, while I was praying before the Lord in the Tabernacle, I asked Him what I should do and I saw the flame of the sanctuary lamp flare up slightly. The words that came with it were, “I want you to fan the flame of my Church.” From that point, things fell into place as I started to discover that attending Mass for two years without receiving Communion had developed quite a hunger in me for the Sacraments. So, on Holy Thursday, two days before receiving the Sacraments of initiation, I made a decision in my heart to give my life to God for service in the Catholic Church, whatever that might look like.

The campus minister, who was a Benedictine priest from Saint Vincent Archabbey, invited me to join him and some other students on the weekend after Easter for a vocation retreat at the Archabbey. I had no idea what a monk was, but the stereotype in my mind made me dismiss the idea of a monastic vocation, because I felt so drawn to share faith with people, not just to hide away and pray. At the same time, I thought a weekend retreat would be fulfilling and I am always open to learn. In fact, it turned out to be a profound experience.

( To be continued )

Benedictine Spirituality III: The Ear of Your Heart

The Ear of the Heart – “attend to them with the ear of your heart”

Saint Benedict teaches the monk in the first verse that there is a deeper way of listening.  We take in reality through our five external senses (sight, hearing, etc.) but we also learn to detect something deeper.  Reality is not merely a scientfic fact.  All of reality conveys meaning as well.  When we look at a car we do not normally see a metal object made of thousands of parts.  Rather we see transportation that moves us from point A to point B.  When we look at a subway car or a subway line, it appears to us as a portal that picks us up at one place and drops us at another.  When we see physical objects, their meaning presents themselves to us first.  This is so strong, in fact, that we simply do not see things that are not meaningful to us.  When we are driving on the highway, we block out most of the things around us and focus on a few things in front of us.  When we are walking through city streets we simply never notice things that do not affect us or have any impact on our purpose.  The direction of our intention (the focus of our inner eye or the attention of our inner ear) determines what we perceive.  This is why it is so important to focus our attention appropriately, and Saint Benedict instructs us to focus the attention of the ear of heart on the Master’s instructions.

God speaks through everything.  The Word is constantly expressing Itself through creation and through history.  The Word can be heard in human events and through human voices.  Every event carries a deeper meaning if we can tune our ears to hear it.

A Benedictine motto was developed in the 18th century to summarize the Benedictine life: ora et labora (pray and work).  By focusing on prayer first, but then by balancing prayer and work, the monk learns to listen to God even during his work.  Saint Benedict noted that the monk is to “regard all utensils and goods of the monastery as sacred vessels of the altar and nothing is to be neglected” (RB 31:10-11).  This shows the potential that Saint Benedict sees for finding God in work.  Work can be carried out with attention and reverence.  The monk can listen to God with the ears of the heart as he carries out simple, mundane tasks or as he takes on complex challenges.  Throughout history, monks have carried out simple tasks such as cleaning and cooking and copying books, more complex tasks like gardening and farming, and creative work like art and music.  In those activities, monks have been innovators.  The first geneticist was a monk.  Monks developed technologies to assist in their work.  The noteworthy thing, however, is that in the midst of all of it, Benedictines have tried to listen to God with the ear of the heart.

The ear of the heart could be described as a contemplative sensitivity.  In the Catechism, contemplation, or “inner prayer” is defined as a prayer that can take place at all times and persists in the heart: “One cannot always meditate, but one can always enter into inner prayer, independently of the conditions of health, work, or emotional state. The heart is the place of this quest and encounter, in poverty and in faith” (CCC 2710).  “Contemplative prayer is hearing the Word of God” (CCC 2716) by which we “enter into the presence of him who awaits us” (CCC 2711).  St. Thomas Aquinas described contemplative prayer as a loving awareness of God’s presence.  These descriptions all point to a knowledge that is not rational, but intuitive.  We describe it as “heart-knowledge” or a hearing with the ear of the heart.

Saint Benedict encourages his monks to remain in this kind of contemplative prayer by always being attentive with the ear of the heart.  Even while the mind is dedicated to a particular task, the heart can continue listening and thus remain connected to the Word of God.   Just as we can be aware of the presence of a beloved friend in the room with us even while we are intensely focused on a particular activity, so also the monk seeks to be aware of the presence of God while he carries out his daily work.  Saint Benedict instructs the monk always to remember that he is beneath the loving gaze of God (RB 7:13-14).  He also calls the monk to continually pray in the heart, especially seeking mercy in his sinfulness (RB 7:65).  To keep this contemplative prayer alive, only short acts of recollection are needed.  This is why Saint Benedict tells the monk his prayer need not be prolonged, but rather “short and pure” (RB 20:4).  A little burst of attention, a short prayer such as “My Jesus, my mercy” or “Jesus, I trust in you” can be enough to keep the flame of loving attention alive in the heart.  The Catechism reaffirms that “Contemplative prayer is silence, the ‘symbol of the world to come’ or ‘silent love.’ Words in this kind of prayer are not speeches; they are like kindling that feeds the fire of love” (CCC 2717).  Saint Benedict directs his monks to spend many hours every day praying with Scripture and the monk can carry a few words from that time of prayer to use as “kindling” to keep the flame of contemplation alive in the heart.

We have seen now that Benedictine spirituality can be summarized in the first verse of the Rule of Saint Benedict: “Listen, my son, to the Master’s instructions and attend to them with the ear of your heart.”  By including more silence in our lives and opening our hearts in humble obedience, we can learn to listen better.  Likewise, by prioritizing our prayer and the time we spend in the place of prayer, we can learn to listen to God who is the Master and then also learn to hear Him throughout the events of the day.  Lastly, by learning to be attentive with the ear of the heart, we can carry out our daily duty with unceasing, contemplative prayer.  Such prayerful work lies at the heart of Benedictine spirituality.

Benedictine Spirituality II: The Master’s Instructions

The Divine Presence – “The Master’s instructions”

Saint Benedict exhorts the monk to listen to the “Master’s” instructions.  Who is the Master?  On the one hand the Master is God.  On the other hand, it refers to those who hold divine authority, such as the Abbot, but also to other authorities like parents, government leaders, teachers, elders, etc.  In other words, God certainly instructs us directly, but He also instructs us through other people.  This principle is repeated several times in the Rule of Benedict and it is an extremely important one for our Christian lives.  Blessed Columba Marmion, OSB noted that the central theme of the whole Rule of Benedict is expressed in this idea found in Saint Benedict’s exhortation: “We believe the divine presence is everywhere…but beyond the least doubt we should believe this to be especially true when we celebrate the divine office” (RB 19:1-2).

The beginning of our awareness of God generally happens in a religious experience.  Our communal celebrations, including the Mass, the Liturgy of the Hours and the other Sacraments, are important points of contact with God.  It is critical that they be celebrated in a reverent and devoted manner. When these great times of prayer are beautiful and prayerful, they can be a cause for conversion.  They should be bright with music, but balanced with times of silent reflection.  They must be led confidently, reverently and prayerfully.  These are the expectation of Saint Benedict when he reminds us that “beyond the least doubt we should believe” the divine presence is to be found in the divine office (RB 19:2).   We must conduct ourselves in communal prayer and in the Church as we would conduct ourselves in the presence of a mighty ruler: “Whenever we want to ask some favor of a powerful man, we do it humbly and respectfully, for fear of presumption” (RB 20:1).  Rather than carrying on raucous conversations or irreverent worldly activities in Church we must always act in a manner that reminds ourselves and also shows others that the One True God is present there in His Flesh reserved in the Tabernacle.

Saint Benedict expects us to develop a sensitivity to the divine presence by celebrating the liturgy well and taking the words of God on our lips seven times a day.  “Let us stand to sing the psalms in such a way that our minds are in harmony with our voices (mens concordet voci)” (RB 19:7).  Normally we first form words in our minds and then we speak them out with our voices.  When we pray the psalms, however, the words are given to us to speak, but then they begin to form our minds.  In this way, we allow the Word to form our way of thinking, which in turn can form our way of acting.  After repeating the words of the psalms, the liturgical prayers and the readings from Mass, our hearts become more and more sensitive to the divine presence.  We start to see his fingerprints and footprints all around us.  We see His presence in the lives of others—in the lives of other monks and in the lives of the guests who come to the monastery.  We see His Presence in our work.  We see His presence in the sick members of the community.  We see His presence in the Abbot.  We see His presence at our meals.  By becoming sensitized to the Word of God and taking on the mind of Christ, we start to see the divine presence everywhere in our lives.

This brings us back to the question, “Who is the Master?”  The Master is God and we must take time in liturgical prayer and in personal prayer in order to begin hearing God and to sensitize our hearts to His presence.  As we do that, however, we also start to see Him in everything.  The monk is the one who arranges His day around repeated acts of attention to the divine presence.  He regularly interrupts every other activity because “nothing is to be preferred to the Work of God” (RB 43:3).  With his visits to the oratory and his celebrations of the liturgy of the hours at the center of his day, the monk makes acts of recollection throughout the rest of his day to renew his awareness of the divine presence.  In Saint Benedict’s time it was already encouraged by St. John Cassian to recite the verse of Psalm 70: “God, come to my assistance.  Lord, make haste to help me.”  Cassian identified that verse as a defense against every attack of the Enemy and as a simple way to return one’s attention to God throughout the day.  In the subsequent centuries, the Jesus Prayer served a similar purpose, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”  With these brief prayers, the monk can bring his awareness of the presence of God, which is especially strong in the places of prayer, out into the rest of his life. He can learn to hear the instructions of the Great Master through every other little “master”.  Even in sinful men or atheists, the prayerful monk can learn to be aware of the Presence of God.

Benedictine Spirituality I: Listen, my son

Introduction

“Listen my son to the Master’s instructions and attend to them with the ear of your heart” (Prologue 1). These are the first words Saint Benedict speaks to his monks through his Rule of life.  The Rule of Benedict (RB) establishes three important spiritual attitudes already in the first verse.  The first instruction is that Saint Benedict requires the monk to listen, which requires the monk to cultivate silence, humility and obedience.  The second is that God, the Master, speaks to us—both directly and through those in whom He has invested authority, and even more broadly through the circumstances of reality itself.  The third is that there is a kind of listening that one can only do and must do with the ears of the heart.  In this post we will reflect on the first part and take up the next two parts in the following posts.

Listening – “Listen, my son”

Listening is the foundational attitude of the monk and to do it well it requires silence, obedience and humility.  This explains the three chapters of the Rule on these principal monastic attributes—chapter 5 on obedience, chapter 6 on silence and chapter 7 on humility.  All are necessary for listening: only the humble man listens, while the proud man believes he already knows everything; listening requires exterior silence to hear with the ears in one’s head and interior silence to hear with the ears of the heart; and obedience treats listening as a path of potential action, not merely a matter of taking in idle words.

Humility is a key theme throughout the Rule of Saint Benedict.  The longest chapter in the rule (chapter 7) is devoted to the virtue of humility.  Humility is expressed in the beginning of the rule as the call to listen.  A person only listens when he believes he has something to learn.  Otherwise he will talk excessively, thinking everyone else has something to learn from him.  That is why Saint Benedict warns the talkative man: “in a flood of words, you will not avoid sinning” (RB 7:57 quoting Proverbs 10:19).  He also notes that when we think we know everything and never cease talking, we end up going in circles, never making progress: “A talkative man goes about aimlessly on the earth” (RB 7:58 quoting psalm 140:12).  Those scriptures are quoted in the ninth step of humility which requires “that a monk controls his tongue and remains silent” (RB 7:56).

The silence of Christian monasticism is not merely an asceticism of self-control or emptying our desires, but rather a posture of listening to a God who speaks.  We do not silence ourselves for the sake of being silent, but rather for the sake of hearing more clearly.  Our silence is not a matter of isolating ourselves, but rather of opening ourselves.  It is relational.  Silence is the necessary pre-condition for hearing God and encountering Him in prayer and in life.  Too often we make the mistake of getting lost in the world and never slowing down enough or silencing ourselves enough to meet God, to hear Him and simply to be with Him.  God has revealed Himself as the divine Word who has spoken from all eternity and continues to speak to us in a personal relationship.  When we slow down, humble ourselves in prayer and open our hearts, we can hear His voice.  That has a way of humbling us even more, reducing our inflated egos to nothing.  We find ourselves saying like Saint Paul, “Indeed I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Phil 3:8).

Furthermore, Saint Benedict understands listening as leading to action.  He is not content with ideas that never turn into action nor with knowledge that never becomes love.  “’Knowledge’ puffs up, but love builds up” (1Cor 8:1).  “The Word was made flesh and dwellt among us” (Jn 1:14).  It is through obedience that knowledge becomes love and that the Word becomes flesh.  That is why Jesus is the ultimate example of obedience.  In Him, the Father’s will was made tangible and visible at every moment of His life (cf. 1 Jn 1:1-4).  “Consequently, when Christ came into the world, he said, ’Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired, but a body have you prepared for me’” (Heb 10:5).  The Word was made flesh so that the Father’s will could be visible in a human body.  Furthermore, the ultimate sacrifice is made through that same human body.  There is no love without sacrifice and Christ revealed the ultimate love by offering the ultimate sacrifice.  He laid down His life for us, allowing His crucified Body to proclaim, through suffering, all of the Father’s love for us.  When Jesus listened to the Father, He opened His life to the greatest potential.  This potential became a reality as His Body participated in and revealed the fullness of divine love.  This is true obedience and Saint Paul glorifies it by singing: “Christ…became obedient unto death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:8).

We can now apply to ourselves Saint Benedict’s teaching on listening through silence, obedience and humility.  We must create places of silence and we must intentionally include in our lives extended periods of silence for prayer.  In the Saint Benedict prescribes 4-6 hours of silence for monks to spend each day in personal prayer.  This sets a high standard that few can follow given the demands of daily life, but at least an hour of daily silent prayer is necessary for real spiritual growth.  Beyond our dedicated times of silent prayer, it also helps to create spaces of communal silence.  Benedictine monasteries have done this since the 6th century, making a place not only for the personal sanctification of the monks but also for other members of the faithful to enter into.  Saint Benedict had extensive regulations in the Rule to provide for guests, noting that “monasteries are never without them” (RB 53:16).  The service of hospitality is a key feature of Benedictine spirituality.  When Benedictine monasteries consist of monks that are prayerful and cultivate silence, these monasteries can become a spiritual oasis for the faithful.  That depends on the personal decision of the monks however.  We must all choose how we will respond to the call of Christian faith.  When we respond with humble silence and holy love, our hearts are set aflame and we can warm the hearts of others.  When we allow the noise of the world in to corrupt our souls and make us busybodies, our hearts grow cold and so do those who would seek the warmth of Christ in us.

The Resurrection of the Body – more than the raising of Lazarus

[Jesus] cried out in a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come out!' The dead man came out… (John 11:43b-44a)

What was Lazarus's experience? Why do we not hear a report about it? We are fascinated with “near-death” experiences (e.g. the recent book “Heaven is for Real” remained on the best seller list for over three years) and we have this feeling that if someone could scout ahead beyond the veil of death and come back to tell us about it, we would more easily believe (and more readily behave!). It is reminiscent of Israel's explorations of the land beyond the Jordan river, the Promised Land–we would like to send a Caleb or Joshua ahead of us to reconnoiter the land and come back to tell us what it is like. But Jesus assures us, “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.” (Luke 16:31b)

Perhaps this is why Scripture tells us practically nothing about Lazarus's experience of rising from the dead. It leaves us wondering, “What was it like?” It would be so interesting to know what his experience was…or would it? Perhaps we do not get more about Lazarus's experience of waking up and emerging from the tomb because it is simply a distraction. As Jesus reported in the parable of Lazarus (a different Lazarus) and the rich man, “They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.” (Luke 16:29) Indeed, the law and the prophets, the Gospels and the epistles bring us closer to understanding the meaning of life (and eternal life) than someone who comes back from the dead (like Lazarus). How can this be?

Resurrection is more than a resuscitated corpse

Pope John Paul II explained this in the following way, “Eternal life should be understood in an eschatalogical sense, that is, as the full and perfect experience of the grace (charis) of God…” (TOB 67:5). Pope John Paul II clarified (in the same audience) that we already get a taste of this through faith, that this is an experience, “in which man can share through faith during his earthly life…” At the same time, we do not experience it fully, it will “only be revealed to those who will participate in the 'other world' in all its penetrating depth, [and] will also be experienced in its beatifying reality.” (TOB 67:5)

In order to participate “in all its penetrating depth” and experience this grace “in its beatifying reality,” we must be transformed in a way that is not only “by degree” but in a way that is “essential.” At the same time, we must be quick to clarify that this transformation does not involve any “disincarnation” or “dehumanization.” (TOB 67:2) Rather, there is a certain continuum between the human experience of this life, particularly the way that we are permeated by truth and love, and the divinized experience of the “other world.” (TOB 67:4) At the same time, our divinization in the “other world” is “incomparably superior to what can be reached in earthly life” (TOB 67:3).

The greatest mutation

Pope Benedict XVI tied all this together in an Easter Vigil homily when he called the resurrection “the greatest mutation”:

But somehow the Resurrection is situated so far beyond our horizon, so far outside all our experience that, returning to ourselves, we find ourselves continuing the argument of the disciples: Of what exactly does this 'rising' consist? What does it mean for us, for the whole world and the whole of history? A German theologian once said ironically that the miracle of a corpse returning to life – if it really happened, which he did not actually believe – would be ultimately irrelevant precisely because it would not concern us. In fact, if it were simply that somebody was once brought back to life, and no more than that, in what way should this concern us? But the point is that Christ’s Resurrection is something more, something different. If we may borrow the language of the theory of evolution, it is the greatest 'mutation', absolutely the most crucial leap into a totally new dimension that there has ever been in the long history of life and its development: a leap into a completely new order which does concern us, and concerns the whole of history. (April 15, 2006)

A glorified body

Pope John Paul II gave a thorough treatment of the resurrection of the body in his Theology of the Body discourses (TOB 64-72), but we will just give a hint of what he says about this experience. I will leave it to the reader to contrast this description of resurrection as a radically new step in life with Lazarus's experience of merely resuming this earthly life still headed towards his second death. Pope John Paul II described our resurrected life as being perfectly integrated, and “the powers of the spirit will permeate the energies of the body” (TOB 67:2). The “powers of the spirit” refer to things like the intellect and the will and the memory. That these powers will permeate the body means that we will have absolute control over our bodies to the most refined degree–having intelligent fingers, for example or eyes that can make their own choices. Furthermore, because our whole person will be taken up in receiving “God's most personal self-communication” (TOB 67:5) all of these powers will be oriented towards love. Our bodies will be a perfectly harmonized integration totally open and oriented to receiving God's love and through Him open to everyone else.

Whatever Lazarus's experience of life after death was, we can be sure it was not like that. From the experience of the resurrection of the body, there will be no turning back. In the Resurrection of Christ, we have a future that is unimaginably beautiful and therefore a hope that helps us to say with St Paul, “For his sake I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him…to know him and the power of his resurrection and [the] sharing of his sufferings by being conformed to his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.” (Philippians 3:8,10-11) And “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us.” (Romans 8:18)

 

Good Friday – A story of weakness

The story of mankind is a story about weakness. In the beginning man was weak. Satan tried to help man hide his weakness. First he convinced man he didn't have to be weak, “You can fix your weakness–just eat the fruit.” That didn't work! Now man was twice as weak, also feeling ashamed. “That's alright,” Satan continues to tempt, “just hide yourself. If no one sees your weakness there's nothing to be ashamed of and the shame will go away.” That still didn't work as God kept calling out, “Adam, where are you?” Soon after, man tried a third tactic–destroy the weakness. Cain killed Abel. That seemed more effective, except that feeling wouldn't go away and that voice kept following us saying, “Where is your brother?”

Satan wants us to hide our weakness–by fixing it, running away, or destroying it.

Ever since then we have been trying to hide our weakness. The Passion narrative we just heard repeats the old story about the many ways that we hide our weakness.

What are some of the ways?
Peter used boasting, “I will never leave you !”
And pride, “you won't wash my feet.”
Peter used a sword but everyone knows a bully is really just insecure, weak.
Then Peter resorted to lies, “I do not know the man.”

What do you use to cover up your weakness?

Some of them ran away. Some slept. We can become perfectionists and control freaks about things that don't matter–just to stay away from our weakness in things that do matter. Do you point out other people's weaknesses to take the attention off your own (like I'm doing right now!)? Do you create a big hysteria about nothing so people won't see what you feel is really wrong–that you are weak? Judas tried to make more money–you can cover up everything if you have enough money. Sometimes we are willing to admit we are weak…just as long as we have a chance to earn forgiveness first and distract people with our strength (so that we don't appear to be so we weak).

What's wrong with covering up my weakness? What else would I do with my weakness? Trust? But then that serpentine voice returns, saying “Be careful! You can't trust people too much. They let you down. You can't trust in obedience–you have to be realistic you know?? You can't trust your parents or your superiors or your brothers or sisters. They've already proven they will let you down. If you trust you just get hurt. Take the offensive instead. The best defense is a good offense. And you certainly can't trust God–He is Almighty. He doesn't understand weakness. He will reject your weakness.”

God responds to weakness with love

But Jesus pleads “I thirst!” He is so weak.

The Passion of Christ is God's response to our weakness. He embraces it by loving it, sharing it, supporting it–all the way to the end.

Weakness is not the ugly, horrible thing that needs to be hidden. Rather, the ugly horrible thing is the lack of trust that prevents our weakness from being loved. That's the ugly thing. Judas was not ugly so much for his betrayal but for his suicide. He chose to destroy his weakness rather than to let Jesus love it.

Trust means “to let Jesus love our weakness.”
Faith means “we believe He always will.”

Sometimes we think that everything depends on how well we love Him. But we fail to love Him so often. We fail to carry out our duty, we fail to love our neighbor. And when we try to love Him and we fail we just want it to go away. Sometimes we even just want God to go away so that we don't have to face our failure, our weakness.

Maybe there is a little feeling of relief after the Passion. We think, “Finally He's dead! That voice will finally stop calling out, “Where are you? Where is your brother?” Now I can just forget it. I can just cover up my shame with the latest trendiest animal skins and walk out of Paradise and forget the whole thing. I'll just make my way on my own. It was all a bit too idealistic anyway.”

And Jesus lets us walk away.

But as long as we eventually stop running, He will come to find us, showing up behind our locked doors and showing us He doesn't hate our weakness. He never did. “Peace be with you!” And He shows His wounds. He knows what it's like to be weak. He loves our weakness. He just wanted us to trust Him. To say to Him, “I'm sorry. I'm weak. I need your help.”

The path of Peter can become our path as well. Peter covered his weakness with lies when he was next to a charcoal fire. That charcoal fire appears again on the shore of Tiberius and Peter again has the opportunity to cover his weakness. But instead he chooses to be honest–not boasting, not proud, not lying. When Jesus asks, “Do you love me with a divine love (agape), Peter?” Peter responds humbly, “Lord you know everything. You know I love you with only a human (weak, imperfect) love.” Jesus accepts this and tells Peter, “'Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.' He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, 'Follow me.'” In other words, “You will become weaker and weaker, but you will let me be your strength. That will glorify me and it will perfect your love.”

God doesn't despise our weakness. He loves us and He loves our weakness. We don't need to cover it up. We just need to trust. To take the hand He reaches out to us and let Him pick us up again. He won't let us down. We can trust Him.
There is no weakness that He will not share.
There is no weakness that His strength will not support.
There is no weakness that He will not mercifully embrace.

Will we take the risk of trusting Him again? With all our hearts? Trusting Him enough
to expose our weakness, not hide it,
to give it to Him, not destroy it,
to let Him heal us, not just try to fix ourselves?

Jesus held on to our weakness all the way to the end. “It is finished.” He shows us that He identifies with our ultimate weakness, death, and He breathes His last. But it's not the end. If we choose to trust Him and let Him hold us, our weaknesses will be shining with glory.

Homily given at St Emma Benedictine monastery Good Friday 2014

 

For you? For some? For many? For all? Is Catholicism for everyone?

In the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, we profess our belief each Sunday in “one, holy, catholic and apostolic church.” The word “catholic” in Greek means “universal”. Our initial impression, then, would be that the “Catholicism” is for everyone. There are some modern factors that cloud that impression, however. One confusing factor is the relativism that is so prevalent in our culture. One who ascribes to relativism believes there is no absolute and thus no universal (i.e. catholic) truth or morality and thus no universal religion. This might be expressed as, “Whatever you think is good and true–that is good and true for you. Whatever I think is good and true–that is good and true for me.” Another confusing factor has recently appeared in the heart of Catholic worship, in the Eucharist. For forty years the words of consecration, the very heart of the Eucharistic prayer, were translated into English as, “this is the cup of my Blood, which will be shed for you and for all…”. Now at Mass we hear, “this is the chalice of my Blood, which will be poured out for you and for many…”. Should we take from this change in the Eucharistic Prayer that the relativists are right, that Catholicism is not truly universal, but only good and true for some?

Pope Benedict's teaching on “pro multis”

Fortunately, Pope Benedict teaches us beautifully on this point. We will consider his explanation given in a letter to German-speaking bishops on April 14, 2012. The entire letter is beautiful, clear and worth reading. I would like to draw out a few points here that can help us in our understanding and living the Catholic faith.

Revelation always requires an interpeter

The first point is that the literal translation of the Latin pro multis is “for many”. Why then was it translated for so many years as “for all”? Pope Benedict explains that a style of translation was embraced after the Second Vatican Council that catered to a concern for the common person's understanding. The text, in Latin, had been remote from people's understanding, but if only presented in a direct translation, the implementors of the new liturgy feared the text would remain remote. Thus, to aid in the understanding of the liturgical prayer in modern languages, the translators incorporated interpretation into the translation. So, as an example, while it was not a problem that the words of consecration were pronounced in Latin as pro multis, there was a fear that if the words were translated directly into English as “for many” there would be a misunderstanding about the Church's theology. Instead of entrusting the task of interpretation to the Church's ministers (bishops, priests, catechists, parents), the decision was made to incorporate the interpretation into the translation.

This is the first key point Pope Benedict helps us understand: the need for interpretation is always a part of revelation. That is why God ordained teachers (Peter and the Apostles and now their successors, the Pope and bishops) and guaranteed that they would provide an authentic interpretation (not even the gates of hell will prevail against the rock of Peter). Pope Benedict expresses it in this way,

Not even the most sensitive translation can take away the need for explanation: it is part of the structure of revelation that the word of God is read within the exegetical community of the Church – faithfulness and drawing out the contemporary relevance go together. The word must be presented as it is, with its own shape, however strange it may appear to us; the interpretation must be measured by the criterion of faithfulness to the word itself, while at the same time rendering it accessible to today's listeners.

A corollary to this point is that we must keep growing in faith. This shows the need for ongoing formation. When there are things we do not understand, it is our responsibility to seek an authentic interpretation by looking to the Church's teaching. We can start with the Catechism and the documents of the Second Vatican Council. We can ask our parish priests who can explain things for us in terms of the teaching of the Magisterium (the Pope and the bishops). We can look for explanations in the writings of the Popes which can easily be found on the Vatican website. It is the Church's responsibility to provide an interpretation and the individual Christian's responsibility to seek it out and make the effort to understand it. This is part of the structure of revelation.

“For many” still means “for all”

Pope Benedict goes on in his letter to the German bishops to help us understand whether the change to “for many” indicates that Jesus did not die for all. He writes,

Did the Lord not die for all? The fact that Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God, is the man for all men, the new Adam, is one of the fundamental convictions of our faith. Let me recall just three Scriptural texts on the subject: God 'did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all', as Paul says in the Letter to the Romans (8:32). 'One has died for all,' as he says in the Second Letter to the Corinthians concerning Jesus' death (5:14). Jesus 'gave himself as a ransom for all,' as we read in the First Letter to Timothy (2:6).

Certainly Jesus Christ died for all. Cardinal Francis Arinze gives a further explanation on this point in his letter dated October 17, 2006, sent to the US Bishops,

The expression 'for many,' while remaining open to the inclusion of each human person, is reflective also of the fact that this salvation is not brought about in some mechanistic way, without one’s own willing or participation; rather, the believer is invited to accept in faith the gift that is being offered and to receive the supernatural life that is given to those who participate in this mystery, living it out in their lives as well so as to be numbered among the 'many' to whom the text refers.

Here Cardinal Arinze makes it clear that Jesus died for all, but it is up to us to accept the gift of salvation.

For you!

Pope Benedict teaches us more of the beautiful meaning behind the phrase of Jesus, “for many”. It should be noted, first, that the account of Jesus's words at the Last Supper are different in Matthew and Mark's accounts in contrast with Luke and Paul. In Matthew and Mark, Jesus says, “for many” while in Luke and Paul He says, “for you.” The Roman Mass combined these words into “for you and for many.” When we read “for you” we do not understand that the Precious Blood of Jesus is shed only for the Apostles who were present at the Last Supper. Rather we see the personal way Jesus applies His Precious Blood to them. Likewise, the saving power of His Precious Blood is still applied to each one present at the Eucharistic Liturgy, who can hear those words personally addressed them. We can each stand at the foot of the Cross and rightly hear Jesus tell us that He is pouring out His Blood for me.

Pope Benedict then turns the love of Jesus spoken to each one personally at the Mass into a challenge. Jesus says, “I pour out my Blood for you and for many but it is your responsibility to ensure that it reaches all.” Pope Benedict expresses the challenge in this way,

How the Lord in his own way reaches the others – 'all' – ultimately remains his mystery. But without doubt it is a responsibility to be directly called to his table, so that I hear the words 'for you' – he suffered for me. The many bear responsibility for all. The community of the many must be the lamp on the lamp-stand, a city on the hilltop, yeast for all. This is a vocation that affects each one of us individually, quite personally. The many, that is to say, we ourselves, must be conscious of our mission of responsibility towards the whole.

We are not few but many!

Finally Pope Benedict uses the “for many” to encourage us. Sometimes we do not feel like “many” we only feel like “some” or “few”. Especially as our church communities dwindle in size, we must take up the responsibility to extend Jesus's life-giving death to others, but we must also remember that we are part of “many.” Indeed, St John reports in the book of Revelation that he saw, “a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue. They stood before the throne and before the Lamb…” (Rev 7:9) We must remember that even when only a few are present at Mass, we are always in the presence of many, even a multitude of saints who have gone before and are united with us in the Church.

Indeed, Catholicism is not merely for a few, for some or for many–it is for all, a universal religion that has the power to transform and elevate all that is authentically human and unite it with the divine.

 

“Blessed Be Saint Joseph, Her Most Chaste Spouse”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph

As the Divine Praises remind us, St. Joseph is Mary’s most chaste spouse. He is a master of purity and a master of modesty, even if he needs a little convincing on this point. A master of purity is able to see, to read, in the language of the body, the mystery of God’s presence hidden in the intimate center of another. A master of modesty does not exploit this mystery, nor expose this mystery, nor run away from this mystery, but rather veils the mystery with his love. In the end, St. Joseph both sees and veils the mystery of God’s spousal love for mankind expressed in the body of the Blessed Virgin Mary. But it took an angel to help him understand this and have the courage to accept the task.

Purity and modesty

We turn to the Catechism to understand more clearly the two virtues of purity of heart and modesty. The Catechism teaches us: “[purity of heart] enables us to see according to God…; it lets us perceive the human body–ours and our neighbor’s–as a temple of the Holy Spirit, a manifestation of divine beauty” (CCC, 2519). Purity of heart allows us to behold the mystery, the beauty hidden in the heart of another, but seen through the body. In regard to modesty, the Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph 2521 reads, “Modesty protects the intimate center of the person. It means refusing to unveil what should remain hidden…”and in paragraph 2522 we read, “Modesty protects the mystery of persons and their love… it keeps silence or reserve where there is evident risk of unhealthy curiosity. It is discreet.”

St Joseph’s drama – purity sees the mystery, humility backs away

Let us turn now to the Scriptures to see how the drama of St. Joseph’s life unfolds. Throughout the ages, the “Masters of Suspicion,” as St. John Paul II names them, read the Annunciation to St. Joseph with the suspicion that no one, even St. Joseph, could have sufficient purity of heart to see the mystery of God’s love in the unexpected pregnancy of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This presumption colors the interpretations of key biblical passages, supposing that St. Joseph saw Mary as an adulteress. Modern Scripture scholarship and the Doctors of the Church help us to reread these passages in the light of truth. The passage in question comes from St. Matthew’s Gospel and we hear it each year in the Mass on Christmas Eve and on the Solemnity of St. Joseph: “Joseph, her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly.” (Mt 1:19)

First, we need help with two Greek words–the verb deigmatizo, translated here as “expose to shame” and apoluo translated here as “divorce.” While we cannot go into all the details, a valid re-translation of this passage is proposed by the Jesuit scripture scholar Fr. Ignace de la Potterie, “But Joseph, her spouse, who was a just man, and who did not wish to unveil (her mystery), resolved to secretly separate (himself) from her.” (Mary in the Mystery of the Covenant, p. 39)

From this we get a better understanding of the insight of St. Bernard of Clairvaux who wrote, “Why did he wish to leave her?… He saw, with sacred astonishment, that she bore a special quality of the divine presence, and while not being able to understand this mystery, he wished to leave her.” (Hom. “Super Missus Est”) St. Thomas Aquinas reiterates this insight in his Summa Theologica, “Joseph wanted to give the Virgin her liberty, not because he suspected her of adultery, but out of respect for her sanctity he feared to live together with her.” (Supplementum III, q. 62, art. 3)

Then the angel appears to St. Joseph in a dream and helps him (and us) to understand the following truth expressed by St. John Paul II in his reflections on the Sermon on the Mount in the Theology of the Body, “[Christ] assigns the dignity of every woman as a task to every man.” And “he assigns also the dignity of every man to every woman” (TOB 100:6). Upholding this dignity “is assigned as ethos to every man, male and female: it is assigned to his ‘heart,’ to his conscience, to his looks, and to his behavior” (TOB 100:7). St. Joseph is assigned the “task” of Mary’s dignity. This task requires two virtues: purity, to see, and modesty, to protect.

Scripture scholarship and the Doctors of the Church reinforce our faith that St. Joseph’s purity of heart allowed him to behold a great mystery in the body of Mary. In the purity of his heart, St. Joseph beheld in his virginal bride not the sin of an adulteress but the awesome mystery of God’s presence. The body of Mary caused the sacred astonishment of St. Joseph as he beheld the great mystery of divine, spousal love in the language of Mary’s virginal pregnancy.

At the same time, St. Joseph recognized the virtue necessary to protect such a profound mystery. He feared that in his human weakness, he might defile the mystery by remaining close. Like St. Peter and the centurion who both said, “I am not worthy,” St. Joseph did not consider himself virtuous enough to veil this mystery by his presence; rather he thought he could do so better by his absence. Because of this, reasoned St Bernard, St Joseph decided to separate himself (apoluo) from Mary.

Obedience veils the mystery

Fortunately, in God’s gentle Providence, He sent an angel to St. Joseph to reassure him that he should protect her mystery by remaining her husband, by taking her mystery with him under his roof. Scripture affirms that St Joseph obeyed the angel. We can even read the exactitude of his obedience by the exact correspondence in scripture. The angel said, “Take Mary your wife into your home” (Mt 1:20) and Scripture affirms, “When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home.” (Mt 1:24)

One of the Church Fathers claimed the success of Joseph’s obedience in indicating that it is precisely the marriage that he maintained with Mary that protected her from the devil. Referring to something written by St Ignatius of Antioch, Origen asserted that the devil did not find Mary because he was looking for a Virgin rather than a married woman.

I found an elegant statement in the writing of a martyr–I mean Ignatius, the second bishop of Antioch after Peter. During a persecution, he fought against wild animals at Rome. He stated: “Mary’s virginity escaped notice of the ruler of this age.” It escaped his notice because of Joseph, and because of their wedding, and because Mary was thought to have a husband. If she had not been betrothed or had (as people thought) a husband, her virginity could never have been concealed from the “ruler of this age”. (Trans. By Joseph Lienhard, Origen: Homilies on Luke, Fragments on Luke, FC 94 [Washington, 1996, 24-25], quoted in St. Joseph in Early Christianity, pp. 36-37)

St Joseph’s obedience to the angel’s command served as a veil to protect Mary and her Child from the ruler of this age. This pattern was repeated twice more as St Joseph protected the Child and His Mother from Herod’s wrath (Mt 2:13) and the menace of Archelaus (Mt. 2:22) through his humble obedience to the angel’s command (Mt 2:14,22).

Let us ask St. Joseph to teach us true chastity in purity of heart, in modesty and in obedience. We ask him first to teach us to have sensitive hearts that can recognize the beauty of the mystery of God’s presence in us and in others. Then may he teach to protect that mystery through the obedience of faith. In this way, like St Joseph we will enter into deeper communion with Mary and the Mystery of God’s love revealed in the Word made flesh in her womb.

Originally written for the Theology of the Body Institute e-newsletter and expanded March 19, 2016

 

St Joseph’s “Doubt”

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Here is a homily I gave to our monks in 2015 summarizing the interpretations of St. Joseph’s “doubt” in chapter 1 of Matthew’s Gospel. There are three main approaches to St Joseph’s struggle by saints, doctors, theologians and Popes throughout the ages. All three approaches can help us to see the greatness of this man chosen by God to be the spouse of Mary and the human, virginal father (legally, socially, but not biologically) of Jesus, the Son of God.

St Joseph, son of David, pray for us!