A couple weeks ago, I took a week-long intensive course on Benedictine spirituality at Conception Abbey, a Benedictine monastery near Maryville, MO. Below is a review of one of the books I read for the class.
Joshua Paul Smith. Review of Joan Chittister, The Rule of
Benedict: A Spirituality for the 21st Century (New York City: Crossroad Publishing, 2010).
“Spiritual, Not
Religious”
This week, National
Public Radio aired a series of stories that shared a common theme: the
disconcerting discovery that a growing number of American youth have ceased to
identify with any particular organized religion. According to one recent study,
as much as thirty percent of Americans under the age of thirty have severed
ties with the religious traditions of their youth.
Meanwhile, on another—possibly not altogether unrelated—note, Drew Smith of
EthicsDaily.com reported this week on the plummeting rate of “religious literacy”
in the United States, lamenting the findings of a 2010 Pew Forum report that
suggests a growing unfamiliarity with even the most basic tenets of Judaism,
Islam, Christianity, and other world religions.
Though—as the adage goes—correlation does not necessarily prove causation, it appears that young people are leaving churches,
synagogues, and mosques by the thousands, and yet are not altogether certain of
exactly what they are fleeing. Fewer and fewer members of Generation Y are
finding depth and meaning in the established religions of their childhood,
opting instead for a vaguely self-centered amalgam of pious mysticism that
touts “Spiritual, not religious,” as its motto. What could a
fifteen-hundred-year-old document such as the Rule of Saint Benedict possibly have to offer a culture consumed with the
task of “keeping up with the Joneses,” preparing for “planned obsolescence,”
and steeped in the notion that “my
faith,” if such a thing exists, is a deeply and uniquely personal perspective
and is not to be shared? It is precisely this question that Joan Chittister is
concerned with answering in her laudable book, The Rule of Benedict:
A Spirituality for the 21st Century.
Structure and Content
This
devotional-style examination of the early sixth century Rule of Saint
Benedict is a chapter-by-chapter commentary
on the ancient text, providing theological insights for a cynical generation
that often appears to consider “theology” a four-letter word. Throughout the
book, the author attempts to both introduce the reader to the Rule and to clarify for a postmodern audience those
passages that our current cultural context might deem difficult, if not
downright contemptible. The purpose of the book, therefore, is twofold: 1)
Chittister seeks to revive popular interest in an ancient text within a culture
that has “lost its religion”; and 2) the author serves as a postmodern
apologist for Benedict’s grand vision, polishing the rough edges and
constructing a theological and rhetorical bridge that spans the divide between
the ascetic lifestyle of the sixth-century Benedictine monastic and our own 21st-century
individualistic and capitalistic milieu. Divided into short, 2-3 page segments,
each chapter is easily digestible—the reader will not strain herself rummaging
around through the annals of systematic theology here—and might possibly even
be ideal for inclusion in one’s own spiritual discipline as a modified lectio
divina. This makes the book exceptional for
personal or, as I prefer, small group devotional use. The very organizational
structure of the book is indicative of the Benedictine mindset: Take your time.
There is no rush. Do not “bite off more than you can chew.” Do your work
prayerfully, and do it well.
Critical Analysis
A Spirituality
for the 21st Century shares many
traits in common with the Rule
itself. Like Benedict’s insightful masterpiece, Chittister supplements her own
theological meditations with the wisdom of the ages. However, in addition to
citing Christian scripture (which remains absolutely central to the Rule), Chittister also draws inspiration from the vast
and diverse array of other traditions, as well, including the Tao Te
Ching, the targumim and midrashim, the apocryphal sayings of the early Christian desert monastic mothers
and fathers (Apophthegmata), and
others. The roots of religious monasticism run deep, with a long history
outside the Christian Church. By employing these other ancient sources of
wisdom, Chittister widens Benedict’s audience and draws distinct attention to
the adaptability and universality of his rule. There is a little something of
Benedict’s vision in every ancient culture—the striving toward personal and
communal integrity, the recognition of practical insight in the mystical and
the yearning for the divine. The Rule itself is, after all, not a piece of historical nonfiction nor an
enlightened hagiography, but rather a fine example of wisdom literature and
contextualized theology.
Chittister paints
her commentary in broad theological and sociological strokes to make the most
of the Rule’s practical application.
This at times involves a bit of theological gymnastics, but the author
repeatedly and assuredly sticks the landing. Difficult passages (such as
Benedict’s ideas about physical discipline and excommunication), and what
appear to be overly tedious passages, (like Benedict’s careful measuring of the
hours with a rigid prayer schedule) are provided with enough spiritual
grounding to make them not only understandable, but also relatable. In so
doing, the author breaks down many assumptions brought to the table by a 21st-century
audience and leaves room for a considerate reading to be constructed in their
place.
The spiritual life
according to Benedict, Chittister insists, revolves around a distinct core of
intentionality in all things. To a 21st-century generation of
superficial pop culture, this may seem surprising, if not downright
counterintuitive. However, the great power of the book lies in its recognition that all
people from all generations—monastic or otherwise—share in many of the same
struggles that fundamentally define what it means to be human. Chittister’s
assertion is that the Rule has a
definite applicable message that transcends time and culture to speak to the
yearnings of the heart itself. We have all experienced exasperation in a
difficult job or frustration with fellow parishioners; we can all benefit from
the self-disciplines of silence, humility, and continence. It is only by intentionally
pursuing the virtues of the monastic life (whether inside or outside the
cloister) that we begin to surrender to the will of God. The recognition of
this essential commonality in the human experience reveals the genius of
Chittister’s book.
In broadening the
application of the rule to both accommodate a non-monastic, 21st-century
worldview, Chittister occasionally loses sight of Benedict’s primary catalyst
for living the obedient Christian life: community. After all, it is the
cenobites—the communal monastics—that Benedict (perhaps a bit biased) proclaims
“the best kind,” reserving judgment for those who seek personal piety outside
the confines of community. However, it must be acknowledged that cenobitic
monasticism is no longer a cultural regularity, and in seeking to adapt the
deeply universal message of Benedict’s Rule,
this assumption must be sacrificed. Nevertheless, Chittister for the most part
recognizes the vital role human interaction plays in the development of a
Benedictine spirituality.
Additionally, not
all will appreciate the author’s theological approach to the Rule for personal application. Indeed, some may find that
Chittister intermittently overreaches in her contextualization and that some of
her illuminations sporadically end up a bit too closely resembling the stratagems
of Christian self-help gurus like Rick Warren, Joyce Meyer, and Joel Osteen.
However, these faint whispers of twelve-step program theology are few and far
between, and never so overpowering that the reader loses sight of the author’s
primary message.
A Personal Appraisal
When I was very
young, our small-town church hired a new pastor. This pastor was an extremely
well-read seminary student, and inspired me to pursue theological studies
throughout high school and college, eventually making my own way to seminary.
Looking back on my path and recognizing my inherent curiosity of all things
biblical and theological, I still often wonder why more people do not follow
the call of God to seminary. My own journey was borne out of the sincere desire
to follow God; much like the desire of the ancient monastics. Why then were
there not millions of people making their way into higher Christian education
instead of committing their lives to humdrum careers and normalcy?
This assumption, I learned while reading Chittister’s
commentary on the Rule, is an
inherently arrogant one. In reality, Benedictine spirituality recognizes the
vast number of divine callings each individual might experience. It is not the
role of everyone to attend seminary and enter vocational ministry (wouldn’t the
ministerial job market be terrible?). The role of each individual is simply to
do what he or she is called to do. Whatever your vocation, Chittister suggests,
perform your work wholeheartedly and with humble zeal. That is the Benedictine
way. I am reminded of a speech that Dr. Martin Luther King gave to a group of
junior high students shortly before his assassination in which he urged the
children to perform their vocation with integrity: “If it falls your lot to be
a street sweeper, sweep streets like Michelangelo painted pictures, sweep
streets like Beethoven composed music…Sweep streets like Shakespeare wrote
poetry. Sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will have
to pause and say: Here lived a great street sweeper who swept his job well.”
In this strange concept of vocation, the Rule attempts to find the revolutionary in the everyday,
the divine in the mundane.
I felt that the
most powerful section of Chittister’s book was her explication of Benedict’s
chapter on humility. Several years ago, my wife Alyssa and I were struck by the
powerful resurgence of the intentional Christian community movement that
accompanied the publication of such popular books as Shane Claiborne’s The
Irresistible Revolution and Rutba House’s 12
Marks of a New Monasticism. The desperate
need for a mending of broken relationships, both personal and ecumenical, and
the desire to break the dominant cultural paradigm of individualistic
consumerism inspired us to dream up an egalitarian intentional Christian
community in which all would be welcome as both teachers and students. Our
community would be based upon monastic principles of ora et labora, a rhythm of prayer and work, and a shared communal
gift or trade (charism). We
called our project Anavah House,
from the Hebrew word for “humility.” Yet anavah is not simply meekness or modesty. Anavah is what makes Benedictine monastic spirituality
function—it is the notion that everyone has something to teach, and everyone
has something to learn from everyone else. It is the very foundation of mutual
submission and humble obedience—in a word, anavah is the mark of a committed monastic vow of stability.
While our plans
for this community never actualized, the
premise of Anavah House remains a
guiding influence on our interpersonal relationships and our connection with
the established Church. It is to anavah that Chittister is referring when she explains, “When we know our
place in the universe, we can afford to value the place of others. We need
them, in fact, to make up what is wanting in us” (p.95). And yet the
recognition of this virtue is scarce, both in the Church and in the secular
Western world alike. Chittister is most certainly correct in referring to
humility as “the lost virtue of our era” (p.99) that must be recaptured if we
are to live out the Benedictine vision of the Reign of God.
Conclusion: Outside the Cloister
In a time when
secular individualism is considered normative and the holy writings of our
collective past are deemed crusty and outdated, Chittister offers a fresh
commentary on an ancient monastic text, reminding us of the roles humility,
compassion, and obedience play in nurturing a genuine spirituality.
Furthermore, the Rule speaks to the
absolutely essential role played by human community—which Chittister herself
defines as “the universal obligation to live fully ourselves and to live well
with others” (p.153)—in the ongoing conversion of the Christian life. In A Spirituality for the 21st
Century we find a sincere attempt to meet a
generation grown weary of organized religion, a generation of “spiritual, not
religious” gyrovagues, and strike up a much-needed dialogue upon the common
ground of stability, community, and compassion. The Rule is not just for monks. The Rule is for all who seek an ordered life, and a genuine
relationship with the divine. A Benedictine spirituality, says Chittister, “is
a way of life…that makes the humdrum holy and the daily the stuff of high
happiness. It is a way of living that leads us to pursue life to its fullest”
(p.302). The Rule of Benedict: A Spirituality for the 21st
Century is a fantastic study aid to help us
along in that very pursuit.
