The 5th step.

The 4th step. Life is dificult

M. Scott Peck, M.D. in his book The Road Less Traveled opens by saying...

Life is difficult.

Yes, this may seems a bit silly but at it deepest meaning it is insight worth embracing.  In the fourth step of humility, Benedict calls on us to recognize that we will be confronted by...

...difficult, unfavorable, or even unjust conditions, where our hearts must quietly embrace suffering, and endure it without weakening or seeking escape.

On first reading, this may seem so foreign, so unrealistic – that we must even remotely consider accepting such conditions. But in time, we will realize one of the most important lessons of life – it really isn't all about us.

We frequently cling to our own ways, refusing to confront and accept the reality of life. But there are a great many essential and positive lessons to be learned from these trials.  They are not to be ignored.

Sister Joan reminds us that in this degree of humility, we must hold on when things do not go our way, for we must learn to...

...withstanding the storms of life rather than having to flail and flail agaist the wind and, as a result, lose the opportunity to control ourselves when there is nothing else in life we can control.

Yes, yes, I understand.  This is so easy to say.  But we must persist!  We must persevere!  We must endure!  We must learn to live this life for Him!  It really is not all about us. 

 

The 3rd Step. We are called to submit!

Benedict understands that this task of listening for and hearing the word of God can be a bit complicated. Joan summarizes it by simply saying we must be willing to submit ourselves to the wisdom of others. We're not the last word, the final answer, the clearest insight into anything.

We are but one word among many. Humility lies in learning to listen to the words, directions, and insights of those around us who are a voice of Christ for us today.  These are the relationships of which sanctity is made.  Invite Him to join with you, walk with you, and listen for His word in the other.

The 2nd Step. Born to do His Will

...we shall imitate by our actions that saying of Christ's: "I have come not to do my own will, but he will of the One who sent me"

Have all of us been born to do His will?

We are His.  We are such willful creatures. Our eyes and our hearts flip from one desire to another. Is it even possible to steal our minds to the point that we can even hear God's will for us?

Sister Joan asks 

"how do we tell the world of God from our own? How do we know when to resist the tide and confront the opposition and when to embrace the pain and except the bitterness because "God will it for us."

I believe the answer lies and our willingness, and our ability to listen quietly for his voice. For his will. 

It will come to us as a gentle nudge or maybe even a shove. If we're willing to listen. 

Humility

Sister Joan makes it quite clear....

...if the preservation of the globe in the 21st century requires anything of the past at all, it may well be the commitment of the rule of Benedict to humility.

Let us begin by realizing that humility is not humiliation. Joan says it most eloquently when she invites us to recognize...

... a proper sense of self in a universe of wonders. When we make ourselves, God, no one in the world is safe in our presence. Humility… is the basis for right relationships in the life.

Sister Joan, and I believe Benedict, believes that no spiritual maturity can be achieved in the absence of a clear sense of God's role in our development. 

Not surprisingly, Benedict chose to use Jacob's ladder as a metaphor for our ascendance and descendants. Pointing out that we descend by exultation and can only ascend by humility.

The 1st step...

We are called to keep the reverence of God always before our eyes. God must be the center of our existence. We must recognize Him and begin no act without inviting Him to join us. When we love him, and all He loves hyphen--we will be carried by Him and impeled to love all God's children.

It may sound a little trite, but to begin, we need only open our eyes, and look at the world around us. God is within us to be realized, and not outside of us to be stumbled upon.

Sister Joan uses a beautiful story to illustrate this connection between God and ourselves.

"How does a person seek union with God? the seeker asks.

"The harder you seek," the teacher said, "the more distant you create between God and you."

"So what does one do about the distance? "

"Understand that it isn't there, "the teacher said.

"Does that mean that God and I are one? "The seeker said.

"Not one. No two."

"How is that possible? "The seeker asked.

"The sun and its light, the ocean and the wave, the singer and the song. Not one. Not two. "

We are in union with God by our very nature. He's there for us to recognize.

 

We must want...

Benedict begins by calling our attention to 2 Corinthians 9:7 reminding us that God loves a cheerful giver. And by so doing he invites us to recognize that we must grow to deeply want to serve.

You must give yourself to it wholeheartedly. You must enter into it with Hope and surety. You must not kick and kick against the goad.  (A goad is a pointed stick to prod animals.) 

This, Benedict says, is not obedience. This is only compliance, and compliance kills, both us, and the community, whose heart is fractured by those who hold theirs back. Real obedience depends on wanting to listen to the voice of God in the human community, not wanting to be forced to do what we refuse to grow from.

We must want to grow – grow in our love for Him and 

our love for others – all others.

This is our call

As a monastic, Sister Joan lives in community.  As a author and teacher of the Rule, she understands the world in which we live.  And so she sees and is quick to respond to Benedict's opening call....

The Tools for Good Works

Sunday, January 18, 2026

Chapter 4

First of all, "love God with your whole heart, your whole soul and all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself (Mt 22:37-39; Mk 12:30-31; Lk 10:27)." 

Sister Joan sees and lives in Benedict's opening call, not for prayer or sacrifice or devotion or asceticism but a call for love, 

for "that most valiant kind of monastic heart," who sets out to find the holy in the human. The call to contemplation to not simply to see Christ in the other but to treat the other as Christ. Benedict calls us first to justice: love God, love the other, do no harm to anyone.

...to be engaged in the great Christian enterprise of acting for others in the place of God. 

This is our call. 

A gift from Aloka

Wisdom is....

Benedict speaks today on the importance of the community coming together to offer council to the prior or prioress and to one another. We must be willing and able to fully listen to those whom our decisions affect. To listen to those around us with whom we live.

Sister Joanne observes these collective life experiences do count – remarking that wisdom is simply it's distillation.  

This is a most interesting idea – what if the knowledge we have gained over the course of our collective lives could be catalogued and index so that all of our experiences could be easily referenced. There is so much truth, so much to be gained from the collective wisdom of the community that surround us every day. This is such a simple truth.

Teach us Lord to open our ears and our hearts 

to our community – to the wisdom 

that surrounds us on every side.

Call to Lead

Life in a retirement community is full and enriching.  Surrounded by the wisdom of years and experience, we each have the opportunity to continue to grow.  In our Benedictine community, this growth includes not only the earthly and worldly wisdoms of aging but the true insights of faith and spiritual growth.

Benedict and Sister Joan open the door to another realization--we are all called to lead within our community.  The call is clear.  We are all responsible for our community and its spiritual development--called to quietly lead by example--through the quality and integrity of our own lives.

Faced with the litany of emotional responses found in all human communities: anger, frustration, disappointment, rejection, failure – we are each called to resist the sin of resignation, despair, depression, and false hope. We are never to stop trying. We're never to give in to the lesser in life. We are never to lose hope in God's mercy. 

Benedictines are called to birth souls of steel and light; they are called to live the life they lead; their call to live in discriminately; their call to favor the good, not to favor the favorites; they are to call the community to the height and depth and breath of the spiritual life; they are to remember and rejoice in their own weaknesses in order to deal tenderly with the weaknesses of others; they are to attend more to the spiritual than to the physical aspects of community life; and finally, they are to save their own souls in the process, to be human beings themselves, to grow in life themselves.

Trial by Faith

We are called to learn to survive life's trials by faith in His strength--surrendering to not only survive but to grow in His name.   We are each called to service in His name--disciples in name following The Way.  

We are called to struggle in life with those around

us--to grow in depth, in sincerity, and in holiness, 

to grow despite weaknesses, to grow beyond our 

weaknesses.

 

 

How do we grow?  We surrender trusting in His word.  We must give Him our willful spirit.  He will wake us up to the tomorrow that can be--not to remain in the dark world of today.

We must learn to humble ourselves at all time.  Do the work we are called to do.  With Him by our side and by His Grace we will prevail.

 

To Enshrine The Way

Benedict focuses again today on the importance of the prior and prioress leading a life which they seek to enshrine in others. Sister Joan brings it to life for us today.

The abbot and prioress are to make of themselves the light that guides
 and the crystal that rings true. Otherwise, why should anyone else 

attempt The Way at all?

If you have not already done so, let me again invite you to read Practicing the Way, by John Mark Comer.  I believe Saint Benedict devoted his life to teaching how we are to make Practicing the Way our life's work.

A reminder...

 

Norman Rockwell, 1961

Pray for our country....

Norman Rockwell, in 1961, offered us a vision of humanity’s shared dignity: men, women, and children of every nation, faith, and complexion gathered under the golden words of the Gospel’s Golden Rule. That canvas spoke not just of America, but of God’s dream for humanity: that we might look into each other’s eyes and see not threat or stranger, but brother and sister. It was painted during the Cold War, the Civil Rights movement, and the uneasy dawn of global consciousness. It was aspirational—a reminder of who we might be, not who we were.

If the Creator—by whatever name invoked in our different traditions—were to look upon America today, I believe He/She would see a people both blessed beyond measure and broken by their own choices:

• Blessed, because we still carry extraordinary freedom, creativity, resources, and the ability to speak, gather, and worship. These are gifts entrusted to us, not earned by us.

• Broken, because division, anger, suspicion, and greed have crept into our common life. Many see neighbors not as fellow children of God, but as enemies. Our politics often reward outrage more than compassion. We live in an age of abundance, yet millions go hungry or are crushed under debt. The Creator must surely weep that after so many years, we still struggle with racism, violence, and indifference.

The eyes of the painting—serious, compassionate, longing—ask us whether we have grown closer to the dream Rockwell imagined, or drifted further.

Can we be humble enough to ask for help?

Humility is the only path back. We must admit:

• We cannot fix this by clever policies alone.

• We cannot heal by shouting louder than the other side.

• We cannot find peace until we are willing to kneel—each in our own way of prayer, silence, or surrender—and confess that we have fallen short.

Humility is not weakness. It is the courage to say: 

We need help. We need grace. 

We need wisdom greater than our own.

We stand again before Rockwell’s vision, sixty-five years later. The world is watching whether we can live into the words: 

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. 

This is not sentiment—it is the Creator’s law written in every faith tradition: in Torah, in the words of Jesus, in the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), in the wisdom of the Buddha, in the counsel of the Bhagavad Gita.

Let us begin with small steps:

• See the humanity of the neighbor with whom you disagree
• Choose kindness when cruelty is easier
• Teach children not just to succeed, but to serve
• Pray—not only for your family—but for the stranger

If enough of us do this, then perhaps in another sixty-five years, a new artist might paint not just the dream, but the reality of a nation—and a world—that finally took the Golden Rule seriously.

We must take responsibility

God waits for us. We are indeed called to see God. We are responsible for our own souls. Personal decisions are still decisions, personal judgments are still judgment, free will is still free will.

We must take responsibility for ourselves – what we have done, what we are doing, and what we will do. Therein lies the challenge – we fall we get up, we fall we get up. This is our constant effort.

Might there be a time when we begin to feel less and less? The gospels and Benedict seek to share an answer with us.

Pray without ceasing, read, meditate, and reflect on the word, listen with the ear of the heart. God will see us. God will hear us. And by his grace, the day will come when we realize we are drawing nearing – that God is at hand.

We must be willing....

Sister Joan Chittister starts her discourse today on what she calls the social revolution of the rule. She points out that the superior of the Benedictine monastery is to be a Christ figure, simple, unassuming, immersed in God.

She then takes this gentle discussion of the qualities of the prior or prioress and extends it into a way of living for you and me. She reminds us that the spiritual journey takes time. That we must place Him before ourselves beyond all else. We must recognize that, in time, the practices living in us will bring us into full communion with God.

She makes a very interesting point too, about the role of the prior and prioress as a model. They are not to be idolized, but they are indeed models. In truth as each of us is call to be a disciple. However, we should never lose sight that is our goal to allow Him to find us.  We must learn to trust in Him and then surrender – opening ourselves up to his love and wisdom.

While living in this secular world, fulled of distractions, we must build His moral code within our weak and often unwilling selves. 

Your Rule of LIfe

Obedience to your Rule of Life is the most important task in front of you each day. If we follow the rule--we move toward our life goals. How easy to say and so very difficult to do daily.  

Your Rule of Life is your guide to walking through 

the universe whole and holy.  Listen, pay attention and attend

to the important things in life. Let nothing go by without

being open to being nourished by the inner meaning 

of that event in life.

We are called...

This Rule is Only a Beginning of Perfection

Keep this little rule written for beginners. After that, you can

set out for the loftier summits of the teaching and virtues under

God's protection.

It is not what we read, it is what we become--a change of

heart, a change of life. We are called to become His Holy Word.

A candle on the path

Sister Joan reminds us that what we cannot expect from others what we cannot model in ourselves. Benedictine spirituality, she reminds us, asks that we follow only the good and the wise, only those who call us to our best selves, our fullest selves.  Benedict knows that if we live according to the Scriptures and choose according to the deepest and highest and greatest of human ideals, life will not fail us, whatever it struggles, whatever it's cost.

It is in this theology of leadership that we learn where the great listen to the small, the small will listen to the great and mercy will triumph over judgment. Benedictine spirituality is not an end in itself, nor is it an excuse to oppress the people for whom all law is made. But rather, Benedictine spirituality recognizes that the law is a candle on the path of life, intended to lead us to the good we seek.

Called to follow the good and wise

It does seem obvious that we would want to be lead only by the good and wise. However, life reveals that we frequently follow the sirens call.

Benedict recognized that if we live according to the Scriptures and choose according to the deepest and highest and greatest of human ideals and values, then life cannot fail for us whatever it struggles, whatever it's costs.

Of maybe greatest importance, it becomes clear that Benedict recognizes that we are called to do all of this within community. For it is in community ultimately that we all live, and in which we all grow-- depending on one another daily for our bread as well as our intellectual sustenance and care.

The Spark of the Divine

Benedictine spirituality recognizes the spark of the divine in each of us.  As we move through the world in which we work and live, every encounter with a friend or stranger is a moment to be treasured.  We have the opportunity to encounter the living Christ--if we will but be present. 

All too often it is our story that we want to tell. It is our moment of crisis we want to share. Benedict invites us to recognize the living Christ in the other and to understand that with each person we encounter we have the opportunity to learn and grow – but we must learn to listen – to listen with the ear of the heart.

Chapter 63: The consequences of libration

Freed from societal rankings and judgments, Benedict's monks understood their place was set only by the day of their arrival.  Subject to the same list of duties of prayer, study, and work, each established themselves by their acceptance of and performance of their common duties and responsibilities.

In practice, those who strove to meet the demands of their new world, who acted and spoke with gentleness, kindness, and respect for place and one another--were so recognized for who they were in the world of the monastery--not by former title or station of life but by how they lived their lives.  What would our world be like today if each of us and those around us lived this way?

Hold fast to our humanity....

While discussing the role of a priest in the monastery, Benedict reminds all of us to 

...hold fast to our humanity, to make it our priority and never to let what we have obscure what we are.

Far to often the trappings of our role blinds us to our fundamental call to serve and to live the full life to which we are all called.  Whether doctor, lawyer, mother, teacher--we must never let the privileges of our role blind us to our call to humility, our call from God to serve.

Opportunity to begin again....

 What God gave Adam was not forgiveness 

from sin; what God gave Adam was 

the chance to begin again.

Elie Wiesel   

Sr. Joan reminds us that life is a series of opportunities to begin again.  She frames this in a series of provocative questions:

• is this group, is this place calling out the best in me,
• is this where I fit,
• is this the place where I can become what God wants for me,
• can I see God's footsteps clearly in front of me?

Sr. Joan and Benedict's questions are clear?  Is this where I am called to be?  Am I doing what He would have me do?

There is meaning in every journey...

Dietrich Bonhoeffer observed

There is a meaning in every journey

that is unknown to the traveler.

Sr. Joan drives this point home calling us to open ourselves to learn from everyone. This invites a kind of radical acceptance, recognizing that every conversation we have throughout the day is a chance to experience unexpected learning--but we must be open to the possibility.

We must be prepared to open our eyes to and welcome wisdom from any direction--never to close ourselves to learning--even in the most of challenging conversations.

Letting go....

Benedict knew what most of us learn sooner or later: it is hard to let go of the past, and yet, until we do, there is no hope whatsoever that we can ever gain from the future.

Sr. Joan's admonition is clear:

If we cling to the past, the future is closed to us.

To become what we said we would be

What a simple yet challenging idea.  Sr. Joan's capacity to see and understand the wisdom threaded so Gracefully through the Rule is both a joy and a precious gift.  That a chapter devoted to the offering of children to the monastery could offer us so much today is a clear and present indication that Sr. Joan hears and reflects His word and widom through-out her writing.

Benedict, is dedicated to the spirituality of the long haul--a spirituality focused on simplicity, community, and equality.  Sr. Joan and Benedict insist that we complete in faith what we began in enthusism--true to ourselves--and become what we said we would be.

All too often, we hear and respond to today's call to accomodate what might seem to be the more sensible, the more reasonable, the easier course of life and living--the self-sufficiency that frees us from the overwhelming value of the smelting effects of commuinity.  

Do not give in--prevail.

Let us remember

"In India," Ram Dass writes, "when people meet and part they often say, 'Namaste,' which means: I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides; I honor the place in you of love, of light, of truth, of peace. I honor the place within you where if you are in that place in you and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us....'Namaste'." 

It is an important distinction in a culture in which strangers are ignored and self-sufficiency is considered a sign of virtue and poverty is a synonym for failure. 

To practice hospitality in our world, it may be necessary to evaluate all the laws and all the promotions and all the invitation lists of corporate and political society from the point of view of the people who never make the lists. Then hospitality may demand that we work to change things.

 

What DO the Gospels demand of us?

Look closely at Benedict's invitation. Benedictine spirituality is not a set of rules; it is a way of life. We are invited to be who we say we are. We are to be simple, centered in God, in search of higher things.

We are invited to live out the Gospel message

at every moment of every day. Nothing less.

What is your goal?

Benedict calls us to sanctify the real.  The life we are living is holy. We are called to recognize this and live it as if every moment is Holy--lived in His presence

Spirituality leavens our lives; stabilizes us. Stability in life--as we live it--is priceless.  It is who we are called to become.  It is who we strive to be!

Life of a Continuous Lent

Benedict encourages the monastic to live a life of a continuous Lent.

For most of us, this would seem somewhat severe. However, on closer inspection, the life to which Benedict invites us may be well worth considering.  For example, refusing to indulge evil habits; devoting ourselves to prayer; to reading; to compunction of heart and self-denial; needless talking; and idle jesting

What a blessing this would be for ourselves and others!  We are capable with His help. Let us grow in His faith; listen to His voice; listen to His call; let us not be distracted!  Let us follow His way!

The Gift of the Mind

Weeds, spring up and thrive; but to get Wheat how much toil we must endure. The rule of Benedict treats work and lectio interchangeably. One focuses the skills of the body on the task of co-creation. The other focuses the gifts of the mind on the lessons of the heart. One without the other is not Benedictine spirituality. To get the wheat of life, we need to work at planting as well as reaping, at reaping as well as planting.

When we begin to fully appreciate the gift – the incredible gift of the mind – we cannot, but thank the creator and honor him! 

 

Discipline of the hours

 What will be your practice?

Work is not what defines the Benedictine-it is the single minded search for God that gives their monastic life meaning. The monastic does not exist for work. Creative and productive work are simply the means to enhance the garden and sustain us while we grow into God. We are called to cultivate growth-not hope it happens by chance.

As our days draw to a close, there has to be something left in life that makes us human and makes us happy, or life may well have been in vain. That something, Benedictine spirituality teaches us, is a mind and heart full of a sense of meaning and an instinct for God.

Idleness

 Idleness is the enemy of the soul.

Discipline requires specific periods set aside for specific activities! Labor's transfiguration–what is this activity of transfiguration–how do we make it happen?

Self discipline does not allow for squirrel
 chasing-except in periods designated for chasing squirrels.

We are seen at all times by God

Is what you are saying or going to say of benefit to the hearer?

She who is centered in the Tao can go where she wishes, without danger. She perceives the universal harmony, even a amid great pain, because she has found peace in her heart – the peace only He can give.

If we choose....

Everybody needs somebody to whom they can reveal themselves without fear of punishment or pain. Everybody at sometime in life, struggles with an angel that threatens to overpower them. Contemporary society, with its bent for anonymity and pathological individualism and transience, has institutionalized the process in psychological consulting services and spiritual direction centers.

If we choose spiritual people for our friends and our leaders, if we respect our elders for their wisdom, if we wanted growth rather than comfort, if we ripped away the masks that hide us, and we were willing to have our bleeding selves cauterized by the light of spiritual leadership and the heat of holy friendship, we would, come to the humility that brings real peace.

What would it take?

What would it take to cure ourselves of the self-centeredness that requires the rest of the world to exist for our convenience?

A willingness to change--a willingness to grow!

Am I willing to start today?

How DO we contend with the evil one?

Benedict reminds us today that we can give occasion to the Evil One. Does the Evil One lurk and wait for us to fall so that he might compromise us further? How do we contend with this?

Surrender to God and pray without ceasing!

We must act for Him when its time--a sincere seeking of God through prayer.

Listening for God in the Silence: A Benedictine Meditation

Today's reading in the Rule, Silence after Compline, offers us a unique opportunity to look closely at the noise in our lives.

Noise is not merely a condition of the modern world; many of us recognize it as a spiritual ailment. We tend to think of noise as an external reality — the music that never quite stops, the slammed door down the hall, the ceaseless chatter, a grating voice that scrapes against the surface of our mind. Yet Benedict understood something far deeper: noise is not only measured in decibels. It is measured in its power to agitate and harden the heart.

When noise becomes habitual, when it fills day after day and month after month, something thickens inside us. The walls of the mind grow dense and impenetrable. The soul becomes hard of hearing. What we lose is not simply quiet; we lose access to the inner voice — that gentle, steady voice within us that reveals our pain, clarifies our truth, and whispers of the presence of God.

The Loss of Inner Hearing

The Fathers and Mothers of the desert warned that a noisy life becomes a scattered life. Scattered people cannot discern. The soul that never rests cannot see. What is drowned out by the noise is not merely our thoughts but our capacity for interior truth.

We can become so conditioned to the outer roar that we no longer feel the subtle movements of God within us. The agitation becomes normal. The distraction becomes comfortable. The inner ear stiffens, and what once could be heard — the stirrings of conscience, the gentle nudges of grace, the invitations to wisdom — fades into a distant hum.

To listen for God requires more than a quiet room; it requires the cultivation of silence within.

Why Silence Alone Is Not Enough

We often imagine that silence is the solution. We seek a quiet retreat, a calm morning, a few minutes of stillness before the day begins. These are good and necessary. But Benedict points us further: silence is not an end in itself.

Silence can be empty. Silence can be merely the absence of noise rather than the fullness of presence. Silence, if unguided, can even lead us deeper into our own anxieties.

So Benedict does something profoundly pastoral: he shapes the night.

He instructs that the day should end not with the ferocity of Scripture’s battles nor with the clang of human struggle, but with the gentle Word of God — passages chosen intentionally to soothe rather than provoke. He wants the heart to be laid down in peace, not agitation.

For Benedict, silence must be inhabited. It must be filled with the softening presence of God. Only then does it become the kind of silence in which the soul can rest and hear.

The Night as Teacher

Most spiritual traditions underestimate the night. Benedict does not. He knows that what we absorb before sleep lingers long after consciousness drifts away. A soul unsettled at bedtime wakes in fragments.

Benedict offers a simple discipline: end the day in the presence of the gentle Word. Do not feed the mind on stories of violence or contention. Allow Scripture to become balm. Let the night itself become a monastery of quietness. In this way, silence becomes not merely absence, but nourishment.

Learning to Listen for God

Listening for God is not passive. It is an act of consent:

I grant God access to the inner room of my life,

I loosen the walls that noise has built,

I place myself in the condition where grace can be heard.

This listening grows slowly. It begins with moments, then becomes a posture, and finally a disposition of the heart.

We listen for God when:

we choose to pause instead of react,

we choose gentleness instead of agitation,

we end the day with something holy upon our lips,

we allow the night to teach what the day has obscured,

we cultivate an inner stillness that remains even when

      the world clamors.

In such silence, God speaks not in thunder but in truth. Not in spectacle but in subtlety. Not in the noise of our striving but in the openness created by our surrender.

The Gift of Being Quieted

Ultimately, Benedictine silence is not something we achieve; it is something God offers. It is a healing, a softening, a gentle clearing of the inner space where grace prefers to dwell.

When we listen in silence, we hear not only God but also ourselves — our wounds, our longings, our hopes, our fears — held in a Presence that neither condemns nor abandons us. The silence becomes communion.

And then something unexpected occurs:

unwilled change begins, and

grace reshapes the soul. Peace returns. The heart loosens.

The truths of life rise quietly to the surface.

 

In listening for God in the silence, 
we discover that God has been listening to us all along.

Face Reality...

Sister Joan shared with us today a short wisdom from Anthony de Mello, "Change that is real is change that is not willed.  Face reality and unwilled change will happen."

I invite you to reread Sr. Joan's commentary on the rule for November 18th. It contains a great many seemingly simple but extraordinarily important thoughts into who we are and how we might go about becoming who we want to be.

Growth is not an accident. Growth is a process. We have to want to grow. We have to will to move away the stones that entomb us in ourselves. We have to work at uprooting the weeds that are smothering good growth in ourselves.

For a much close look at the call to face reality, please click here.  It's rather lengthy but I believe will offer you a rich glimpse into the wisdom of becoming.

Should you choose to click and read the added commentary let me offer this little insight.  After you click and see the document, click on the little box brackets at the bottom right, just to the left of the little envelop.  This will enlarge the screen image and make reading easier.

The call to exude...

In today's commentary, Chapter 38 of the Rule, Sister Joan invites us to exude the Scriptures.  Benedict understood that the human heart moves slowly.  Sister Joan understands he was not urging monks to imitate Scripture by sheer will.  She knows that Benedict was counseling patience:

• stay with the text long enough until the text stays with you,
• keep company with Scripture until Scripture keeps company with your soul.

And then--without pressure, without display, without self-conscious piety--your very life will exude what you have absorbed.

A contemporary Benedictine might rephrase this saying--like the pine forest:

Do not try to act biblical.  Become so soaked in the Word
that your very life gives off its fragrance.

 

Life lessons....

 

Sr. Joan speaks to exceptions as a way life.  I believe she is inviting us to consider a broader lesson in today's reading.

Life--living--is complex.  We must be attentive to the demand's on and the capacity of each of those for whom we have responsibility.  We must adjust at all time the demands placed on those for whom we care.  We must be careful to insure to provide them with all they need to be sustained and to continue to grow in faith and service appropriate to their stage of life and condition.

This is integral to our spiritual journey as we care for each other.

To make it possible....

Quoting the rabbis, Sr. Joan reminds us today of the gift of age....

The purpose of maintaining the body in good health is to make it possible for you to acquire wisdom.  

Benedictine spirituality reminds us that coming to the fullness of life we have the opportunity of continue to grow not only in age but in wisdom.

 Every day we have gives us another chance to become the real persons we are meant to be.

And, in so becoming, to not only care for ourselves but to carryout the Gospel message and care for our neighbors.

If you have time, let me invite you to visit Wisdom

We are called....

We are called to recognize daily the role of the transcendent and the transforming--we need both--ora et labora. Sr. Joan states this most clearly when she reminds us...

Prayer is not for its own sake and the world of manual labor is not a lesser world than chapel.

We need them both and the world of manual labor is to be recognized and honored as integral to life and living.  Benedict reminds us that we must never forget that humble work is as sacred and sanctifying as prayer.

 

 

Distribute as each had need....

This morning, November 11, Benedict reminded us that distribution is to be made as each has need.   (Acts 4:35)

These too are His children....

It's time!

Benedictine Spirituality

Benedictine spirituality--a journey to the wholeness
that answers the emptiness in each of us. 

Sr Joan Chittister

Take a moment and read Sr. Joan's commentary for today.  If today is not November 9th, you will see another reading.  But that's okay.  Sr. Joan's commentary will breath a 21st century life into the sacred writings of St. Benedict.

I encourage you to begin reading Sr. Joan's commentary every morning as you arise to start a new day.  Month by month, she will open your eyes to the wisdom of a 6th century Saint and rich wisdom of a contemporary monastic--Sister Joan Chittister.  You will be richer for your reading.

Read meditatively.  Begin by slowing your thoughts; bring a stillness to your mind. This stillness is not empty--it is full of presence--like the silence between the notes in sacred music.  In that silence, your soul recognizes itself not as a separate flame but as part of the great fire.

Humility

The Back Story

 

As we grow older, the more we realize there are frequently back stories worth hearing. worth remembering.  The story of Robert Frost is a beautiful and poignant example.

The man who wrote about peaceful snowy woods buried four of his children. Robert Frost is the poet America fell in love with—the grandfather of American verse, the voice of quiet reflection, the man who wrote about roads diverging in yellow woods. We imagined him serene. Wise. At peace with nature. We were completely wrong.

Robert Frost didn't find peace in those woods. He was searching for it—desperately—through a life that tried to break him at every turn. His father drank and died when Robert was eleven, leaving the family penniless. His mother turned to séances, trying to speak to the dead. Young Robert grew up anxious, brilliant, and haunted—reading by candlelight, questioning everything, trusting nothing. By twenty, he'd already lost his first child—baby Elliott, just three years old. That was only the beginning.

Frost tried to be anything but a poet. He worked farms, taught school, edited newspapers—failing at all of it. By 38, he was broke, frustrated, and drowning. In a last desperate gamble, he sold the family farm and moved his wife Elinor and their children to England.

In a small rented cottage outside London, something cracked open. He wrote. And wrote. And wrote. "The Road Not Taken." "Mending Wall." "After Apple-Picking." The poems that would make him immortal poured out—not from contentment, but from survival. They sounded pastoral. Gentle. But beneath the surface? Razor wire. Loneliness. The brutal weight of choice. The knowledge that every path taken means another abandoned forever.

"A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom," Frost once said. His began in grief and ended in endurance. The tragedies kept coming. Daughter Marjorie died from complications after childbirth. Son Carol, depressed and struggling, took his own life. Daughter Irma descended into mental illness. His beloved wife Elinor, worn down by loss after loss, grew distant and died too soon.

Frost carried it all. Every funeral. Every unanswered question. Every moment of wondering if he could have saved them. And he transformed that unbearable weight into art. That's why his woods feel so real. They weren't decoration. They were sanctuary. A place to think when thinking hurt. A place to walk when standing still meant drowning. He didn't write about nature's beauty—he wrote about what you do when beauty isn't enough to save you. How you keep walking. How you mend walls even when you don't believe in them. How you stop by woods on a snowy evening and choose—despite everything—to keep going. "But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." That wasn't poetry. That was survival.

January 20, 1961. Robert Frost stood on a platform at John F. Kennedy's inauguration. He was 86 years old. Frail. Nearly blind from the cold wind and brutal sun glare. He'd written a special poem for the moment—"Dedication"—but when he tried to read it, the light was too bright. The paper shook in his trembling hands. He couldn't see a single word. For a moment, it looked like failure. Embarrassment on the national stage.

But then Robert Frost—the man who'd survived when survival seemed impossible—lifted his head and recited from memory. Not the new poem. The one he knew by heart. "The Gift Outright." His voice rang out strong, clear, defiant. And in that moment, the poet who spent his life walking through grief stood tall—not despite his scars, but because of them.

Robert Frost wasn't the gentle grandfather of American poetry. He was a warrior who turned wounds into words. He didn't write to escape suffering—he wrote to walk straight through it, and invite us to follow. His roads diverged not in peaceful forests, but in the valley of the shadow of death. And he chose—again and again—to keep walking. Not because it was easy. But because stopping wasn't an option. And maybe that's the real gift he left us: Not the promise that life will be beautiful—but the proof that even when it's unbearable, we can still create something worth leaving behind.  

From the Old Photo Club

Spirit of Truth

Spirit of Wisdom, Truth, and Peace, 

Guide us through this difficult time, and help us to resist the temptation to dream nostalgically of the old normal we have lost.

Instead, help us lean forward toward a new normal, a wiser and better way of life that is more in harmony with your love for all people and for all creation. 

Help us better understand and value our interconnectedness on this beautiful, fragile planet. 

Empower all who serve the common good, encourage all who suffer, and expose all who mislead, whether through ignorance, greed, fear, or malice. 

Give birth to a new generation of moral leaders around the world, moral leaders who are guided by a just vision for the future rather than limited habits of the past  … in our families and faith communities, in our cities and states and nations, and around this interconnected world, for the good of all.

Amen

-Brian McLaren

We become what we seek

Today we turn our hearts to the discipline of the psalms. Sister Joan begins with a challenge quoting from the philosopher, Socrates, who said:

The unexamined life is not worth living.

She invites us to recognize that:

The scrutiny of scripture must be brought to every part of our lives because we believe beyond the least doubt the God we seek, is there seeking us.

She concludes today's meditation with a beautiful metaphor on the smelters fire. I invite you to read it slowly, meditatively, in its entirety.

Prayer, and the spirit of these chapters, if we sing praise wisely or well, or truly, becomes a furnace, in which each act of our lives is submitted to the heat and purifying process of the smelter's fire, so that our minds and our hearts, our ideas, and our lives, come to be in sync, so that we are what we say we are, that the prayers that pass our lips change our lives, so that God's presence becomes palpable to us. Prayer brings us to burn off the dross of what clings to our souls like mildew and sets us free for deeper, richer, true lives in which we become what we seek.