Searchign for God # 64

 A 20th-century Benedictine scholar, Jean Leclercq, says, “According to St. Benedict, monastic life is entirely disinterested. Its reason for existing is to further the salvation of the monk, his search for God, and not for any practical or social end.” From a talk entitled given by  Sister Thomas Welder, OSB, in September 2015 at a formation seminar for new faculty at the University of Mary on a website whose url is: primematters.com/perspectives/benedictine-life-and-search-god

The Title of the page is Benedictine Life and the Search for God, November 4, 2021, By SR. Thomas Welder OSB, Presidenta Emerita, University of Mary

The first thing I noticed about the Leclerq quote is that from St. Benedict’s perspective monastic life exists to further the salvation of the monk, his search for God and not for any practical or social end. You may recall my original intuitive impulse to enter theology was to search for a deeper relationship with God, not for any reason like ‘converting the world’.

For some readers, such a motive may sound selfish, narcissistic, and self-absorbed. Highly curious, and even more impacted by a relatively high metabolic rate, including both visual and auditory acuity and intuitive readings of most, if not all, situations. Starved, unconsciously, for deep and challenging connections of the conversational and ideational varieties (and thereby also unconsciously imposing a level of emotional intensity on family, colleagues and co-workers) I was conscious of an inordinate appetite (need?) for affirmation, applause and praise. And as an overt method to generate such ‘applause’ I was working too many hours in every twenty-four.

An objective observer would put it, in the language of the late eighties, ‘He is addicted to work!’  Or more cynically, ‘Whom is he trying to impress?’ Middle aged enthusiasm, among men of my generation, does not ‘land’ fortuitously, given the depth of the ‘competitive’ instinct embedded in so many of us straight males. Too often, I have heard, and overheard in not-so-silent behind-the-back whispers, “Who the hell is he trying to impress? And ‘what political ladder does he think he is climbing?’ Acute hearing, however, need not be enhanced by hearing aids in one’s mid-forties, as is necessary in one’s mid-eighties. Restlessness, too, comes with both neurosis and excessive ambition, even if the unconscious aspects of that restlessness annoys others. I regret that annoyance, and would like to apologize to those I offended unaware.

On reflection, I was highly dependent (reliant? needy?) on the opinions of others, rather than relying on my own healthy and mature, even if often critical, self-possession and self-assessment.

There were evidences of professional competence, and an eagerness to ‘learn’ and to ‘experiment’ and to ‘imagine’ new approaches in the classroom. I read of, and then considered highly valuable, a proposition of a university professor of education that each teacher would benefit from being his/her own researcher, so that the students’ eagerness to learn and participate in an ‘experiment’ could and would only enhance the process. What was referred to as the Hawthorn effect was the academic title for the theory. Defined by the Oxford Languages dictionary, the Hawthorn effect is the alteration of behavior by the subjects of a study due to their awareness of being observed.

Looked at from four decades later, I would say that, in the classroom, gym and in the radio and television studios I felt confident, so long as I was doing my ‘job’. In social situations, however, I recognized, as did others, my tendency to verbosity, emotional eagerness (interpreted as ‘intensity’) and a difference from other men of my generation and background. I loved poetry, music, hockey, basketball, current affairs local, national and international, travel and, especially, deep and prolonged conversations (and the connections that emerge from such prolonged engagement. I never engaged in, or expressed an interest in hunting, fishing, guns (I abhorred all weapons!) and secretive attempts at betrayals. I was also determined to introduce three daughters to ‘a’ religious tradition, in the thought that, later as adults, they could and would find their own spiritual path, if they chose.

Conversations with clergy, both of a social and a theological/psychological nature, and with a local psychology professor were memorable, engaging, and treasured. Questions of meaning, purpose, death were opened in and through a graduate program in Educational Administration. Courses in educational philosophy and comparative education were especially enlightening. Existentialism was a prominent philosophy in a foundationally Roman Catholic university in the late 60’s and early 70’s.

Of course, I had barely heard the name of Saint Benedict, and as a child of  an evangelical fundamentalist background, I knew very little about the Roman Catholic faith, having attended one Christmas Eve Mass and one or two funerals in the Roman traditon.

I just had the opportunity to listen to Esther de Waal* speaking in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, introducing the Rule of St. Benedict. She has written on the subject, and revisited the vows from three different perspectives. First as a child, living in an evangelical Anglican home, (her father was a Vicar), she thought they were constricting in the extreme: poverty, chastity and obedience. , as an adult, she learns that Benedict, ever the pragmatist, urges first the monks, and also the wider world to eat without restrictions to drink wine and to enjoy life. At the centre of Benedict’s vision, is the image of a flowing spring along with the open, uncluttered space of the cloisters to offer the opportunity to listen to God. Morphing the original vows into:

1)    stability, hanging in, focusing on the pillars of the monastery as symbols of strength and stillness,

2)    Open to change, not remaining static in stability, (not the paradox) with which Benedict was familiar and open to

3)    Obedience: to listen intently to the word of God.

And after the breakdown of a forty-year marriage, Ms de Waal experienced deep and profound loneliness and found a new word for stability, steadfastness, interpreting it as living in reality, not romanticizing the past, or dreaming of the future, but concentrating on the present moment. The notion of continuing to be open to change, the next threshold one must face and cross….and while remaining steadfast, and open to change, continuing to pray through the activity of listening to God in silence. She speaks of the application of the prodigal son as a universal archetype seeking to return in a homecoming. “We’re lost and we want to come home to our true selves,” she said. “We want a relationship with a loving father” and as an integral notion of that aspiration we seek to ‘hold myself still before the gaze of God’ (quoting one of her mentors).

Ms de Waal recounted a story from Benedict’s life. Upon meeting a man on the road, the man exclaimed, “Today is Easter!” To which Benedict responded, “I see Easter in you!” Her explication of this story is that Benedict is telling us to see beyond labels, and categories into the resurrected Christ in the other.

She ends her talk with the question she suggests that Benedict would have us ask at the end of the day:

Have I become a more loving person?

*Esther de Waal’s book, Seeking God, The Way of Saint Benedict, was written in 1985.

The Benedictine Way has been transplanted into many sites, including 2 in Aitchison Kansas, Mount St. Scholastica Benedictine Sisters, and S. Benedict’s Abbey for men. I had the opportunity to attend a retreat in Mount St. Scholastica. I tell that story as a window into another attempt to ‘retreat and reflect’ on my search for God.

The notion of such a retreat came to me quietly, silently actually, as I walked and worked in a small town in Colorado as an Episcopal vicar. I felt culturally alien to the local frontier culture, economically supported by Basques farming and herding cattle and coal mines fueling a sizeable electricity plant. Rednecks dominated the language, the perceptions, attitudes and gun-infested mind-set. A few pieces of data epitomize the county: Trump won 87% of the vote in 2016 and 80% in 2020 and 81.49% in 2024. Contempt for ‘tree-huggers,’ for intellectual pursuits, the LGBTQ+ community was visceral. Another noteworthy piece of information, in 1999, I was asked formally if the black male friend of the granddaughter of a parishioner had permission to attend the Christmas Eve worship service and Eucharist. Appalled, shocked, and biting my lip, I answered energetically, “Of course!” I did not bother to ask why the grandmother thought it necessary to ask. In a town of 10,000, there were 23 churches and 12 liquor stores, most of them drive-through.

Knowing that I was not only a social and cultural alien, (too eastern and preppy, as if from New England) that I was not a fan of country and western music, nor of evangelical hymns, nor of  ‘old chestnut’ hymns, both of which were the expected hymnal choices by a majority of the adherents, I discovered the depth of my ‘misfitedness’ when I asked a joint youth group of two churches, if they might be interested in rehearsing and performing a musical such as Jesus Christ Superstar. Without skipping a beat, a grade eleven student at the local high school blurted, “Oh no we can’t do anything like that, we might only be able to try to do one scene!” It seemed to me that although I my heritage was Caucasian, as a Canadian alien, I felt as if I were black among white supremacists.

Attempting to soldier on, (pardon the military metaphor), I thought a silent period of reflection with a spiritual director, in a spartan and devoted spiritual community might offer some insight into the next threshold of my journey.

As it turned out, the day I was to drive from Colorado to Kansas a blizzard blew into the interstate 80 corridor. A drive that began around 8:00 a.m. in Denver grew into a 13-hour survival drive through blinding snow, high winds (these are very flat lands) and the occasional pit-stop for coffee and a cold-water face splash. When I arrived in Russell Kansas, the birthplace of Senator Bob Dole, some 3.5 hours drive (on dry roads) from Aitchison, I thought it might be advisable to call Mount Saint Scholastica just to let them know that, although the weather was bad, I was nevertheless still intending to arrive later that day.

At 9:30 p.m., in a still blinding snow storm I finally drove into the parking lot, grabbed my bag and walked up the stairs through the front door. I single light bulb, without shade, was hanging in the reception office, and behind the desk sat a middle-aged, slight, bespectacled lady. “You must be John!” she quietly and comfortingly spoke. I learned her ‘name’ was Sister Bridget, and she guided me on each and every step of my stay, evoking images of a guardian angel. Even on the first morning when I had no idea where to go for breakfast, I came out of my room, to find her waiting patiently down the hall from my room door, smiling, and walking slowly in my direction, inviting me to join her and her sisters for breakfast, followed by chapel. If at any moment I had a though of a question about what to do, where to go, it seemed as if Sister Bridget had already anticipated my need, and appeared silently and without prompting to show me the way.

I was assigned to a spiritual director, a doctoral graduate in Criminology, whose name I have forgotten. She had spent considerable time in the small towns and villages of Colorado, and in addition to advising specific reflections for private and solitary prayer she was emphatic repeating almost each time we met: “You have got to get out of there as soon as you can. I know about those places, and they will have the effect of ‘sucking your spirit dry.” It was not a question, “Have you given any thought to what you might do next?” Or, even ‘how long do you intend to stay there?’….It was an explicit “Get out now!”

Although I was a practicing Episcopalian clergy, I was at no time ever treated as ‘other’ among practicing Roman Catholic, mostly graduate women many of whom worked regularly in the town of Aitchison, some as teachers, others a health care or social work professionals. What I also noticed, happily, were the informal conversations, while some were critical of the Vatican, were consistently animated, opinionated, vigorous and engaging, not to mention highly welcoming of this ‘outsider’. These dedicated ‘religious’ women were also deeply committed scholars in their respective fields. It may not be noticeable to some readers, but such conversations were never a part of the informal conversations among clergy at diocesan meetings on either the north or south side of the 49^th parallel. Strictly ‘business’ with the occasional ‘prototypical issue’ like whether or not to welcome gays and lesbians into the church (certainly not into ordination, or marriage).

Here were women, mostly liberal in the theological thinking, likely some were also gay, although the subject never arose, whose welcome I obviously needed and deeply appreciated. And then, in one attempt to escape from that Colorado town, I applied to a parish in Nebraska, was invited to preach and meet the selection committed in person, following a telephone interview in which I was asked, ‘Do you support female clergy?’ to which I responded, “How could I even consider restricting my three daughters from a position to which I had been given access?”

And from my brief brush with Benedictine thought, I have admired and revisited the openness to change paradoxically justaposed with stability, the concentration on looking after basic needs like good food, reliable and healthy footwear, and the encouragement not to deny oneself, in order to prevent resentment. I have occasionally entertained the thought of a formal connection with a Benedictine community, as a lay person, in the firm perception that such a community would both challenge and support my curiosity and search for God.

Two features of the Benedictine approach, reading of scripture and prayer are still somewhat neglected. And, of course, what is obviously also missing from my life is such a community.

 A healthy, supportive, curious, disciplined, energetic and especially gossip-avoidant community, while it may not be attainable anywhere, is one for which I and millions of others also search.

To be continued……