God by their tonsure. These people live in twos and threes, or even alone; they have no shepherd, they shut themselves up in their own sheepfolds, not those of the Lord; and their law consists in yielding to their desires: what they like or choose they call holy, and they reckon illicit whatever displeases them.
The fourth kind of monk are those called Wanderers. These are never stable throughout their whole lives but wanderers through diverse regions, receiving hospitality in the monastic cells of others for three or four days at a time. Always roving and never settling, they follow their own wills, enslaved by the attractions of gluttony. They are in all respects worse than the Sarabaites.
It is better to pass over in silence than to speak further of the unhappy way of life of all these people, so let us pass them by, and with God's help set about organising the strongest kind of monks – the Cenobites.
Benedict discusses the four types of monk in order to highlight the beauty and wisdom of the cenobitic life – the religious life lived within the confines of a monastic community. In doing so he also exposes some problems with two other approaches to religion and life generally.
To be a good Catholic is to be cenobitic. The cenobite submits to a greater authority and lives in a community of obedience with those who share his authority structure. The sarabaite, on the other hand, is one who sets up shop on his own. There are many sarabaitic Christians. They determine what their authority structure is, and as Benedict points out, too often ‘what they like or choose they call holy, and they reckon illicit whatever displeases them’. Sarabaitic Christians reject the teaching authority of the Church. They interpret Scripture according to their own needs, and the necessities of their age. Such a relativistic approach to the Christian life can only be ephemeral and ultimately destructive.
Benedict also recognizes the temptation to be a religious wanderer. For these ‘gyrovagues’ Benedict reserves the most scorn. The sarabaite Christians set up shop according to their own insights and opinions, but the gyrovague doesn't even have the courage or conviction to do that. Instead he wanders from one religious community to another like a bored goat. For him the grass is always greener on the other side of the monastic enclosure. He is thus destined to be constantly discontented, and subsequently to become a disgruntled complainer.
Similarly, in our consumer society it is all too easy for Christians to go ‘church shopping’. With their own set of standards, they wander from church to church looking for the perfect community, the right music, the best priest. Such Christians not only never settle, but they usually cause trouble wherever they go. When a Christian father takes his family church shopping he subtly teaches them several untruths. First, that they are the final arbiters of which is the best church. Secondly, if they can choose from the different churches, then all churches are equally true. Finally, if they choose by personal preference they conclude that the form of worship is more important than the content.
Instead Benedict teaches that we learn everything through loyalty to the community we have been given. We should neither set up on our own nor wander about looking for the ideal life. It is our job to ‘bloom where we are planted’. We should work to change for the better what can be changed, and to endure what cannot be changed.
January 10
May 11
September 10
CHAPTER II
WHAT KIND OF MAN THE
ABBOT SHOULD BE (A)
An Abbot who is worthy to be in charge of a monastery must always bear in mind what he is called and fulfil in his actions the name of one who is called greater. For he is believed to act in the place of Christ in the monastery, since he is called by his title, as the Apostle says, ‘You have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, through whom we cry, Abba! Father!’ Therefore the Abbot should not teach or ordain or command anything that lies outside the Lord's commands, far from it; but his commands and his teaching should mingle like the leaven of divine justice in the mind of his disciples. The Abbot must always remember that at the fearful judgement of God two things will be discussed: his own teaching and the obedience of his disciples. The Abbot must also realise that whatever lack of fruitfulness the Father of the family may find in his sheep will be blamed on the shepherd. And likewise if the shepherd has laboured with complete diligence over a troublesome and disobedient flock, and has expended every care over their diseased behaviour, he will be acquitted in the Lord's judgement and will say with the prophet, ‘I have not hidden your justice in my heart, but I have spoken of your truth and saving help’; ‘but they have contemptuously despised me.’ And then finally the penalty of death will swallow up the sheep who were disobedient to his care.
The word ‘abbot’ means ‘father’. The word shares the same root as the Aramaic word abba – an especially intimate term like ‘Papa’ which Jesus himself uses for the Father (Mark 14.36), and which St Paul says we should use for God (Rom. 8.15). In his consideration of the traits of a good abbot or father this basic word abba, with all its implications of both intimacy and respect, comes into play.
In the monastery the abbot holds the rank of a bishop and, as the bishop holds apostolic authority, so Benedict is clear that the abbot's authority comes from Christ himself. In this he echoes the first-century writer, Ignatius of Antioch, who said, ‘Clearly then we should regard the bishop as the Lord himself…’ Likewise the Christian father exercises authority in the family as from the Lord. St Paul commands children to ‘obey their parents in the Lord’ (Eph. 6.1–2), and thus keep the fourth commandment.
Anyone who glories in their position of power is a fool. Benedict recognizes that holding such authority over others is an awesome responsibility. The responsibility to speak and act as Christ in our families is a high calling which both lifts us up and casts us down at the same time. It lifts us up because we share in Christ's own ministry of reconciliation within our families (2 Cor. 5.18). It casts us down because we cannot ‘speak Christ’ if we don't ‘live Christ’; and how can we hope to live Christ when we are aware that nothing good lives in us? (Rom. 7.18). Benedict then casts us down further when he says that we will be held responsible for the failure of our children.
How can any father hope to fulfil such a high calling? Benedict hints at the answer in today's passage. ‘The abbot should not teach or ordain or command anything that lies outside the Lord's commands…’ In other words, the Christian father must clothe himself in Christ (Gal. 3.27) if he wishes to speak and live Christ in the home. This calls for a mysterious transaction in which we die to ourselves and live to Christ (Gal. 2.20). St Paul says this death to self is a daily requirement, and he grounds his own authority in this same identification with Christ (1 Cor. 15.31). Likewise a daily death to self is the only basis for a Christian father's authority in the home because it is through taking up our cross daily that we identify most fully with the Christ we hope to represent (Luke 9.23).
January 11
May 12
September 11
CHAPTER II
WHAT KIND OF MAN THE
ABBOT SHOULD BE (B)
When, therefore, anyone takes the name of Abbot, he should rule over his disciples with two kinds of teaching; that is to say, he must show forth all good and holy things by his words and even more by his deeds. To apt disciples he must explain
