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On Spiritual Combat and Good Communication
By ABBOT ELIAS DIETZ, O.C.S.O.
Chapter Talk, Sunday July 6, 2008
This morning I would like to comment on two maxims from two contemporary monks.
Each saying can have an effect similar to that of a proverb: the more you mull
it over, the more meanings you find.
The first is something I have heard Fr. Michael Casey say several times: "The
quality of a monk's life is equivalent to the quality of his thoughts."
The first level of meaning obviously has to do with self-knowledge and
purification. From the time of the desert fathers, we have a strong teaching on
the struggle with the principal thoughts that afflict anyone who enters into
solitude and silence. Whether you call them principal thoughts or capital sins,
the fundamental doctrine is the same. These thoughts or tendencies range from
our most basic instincts (e.g., the drive for food, sex, and possessions) to the
subtle and crafty distortions of our minds and hearts (e.g., envy, acedia, and
pride).
In an era of psychological sophistication and all sorts of spiritualities of
"wellness," it is easy to forget that no real progress is made without struggle.
In fact, sometimes it is all-out battle. Not everyone likes the term "spiritual
combat," but no one can live a true monastic life and escape these battles.
At the same time, it is important not to get fixated on this interior warfare.
We can expect many battles, but we should also be looking beyond them, and never
lose sight of the reason for engaging in the fight. Our Cistercian forbears
mention repeatedly that the real benefit of monastic practice is that it can
restore in us the joy of a good conscience. There is nothing naive about this
idea. They did not mean we can return to the innocence of childhood or to a kind
of carefree state of being that we associate with childhood (but probably never
really had). The joy of a good conscience comes with adult humility. Adult,
because it's realistic and can look upon the hard and hurtful aspects of our
past with a degree of serenity; humble because it avoids nothing—it is the truth
that makes us free. Just think of Benedict's depiction of the humble monk in the
Rule. The twelve steps break his pride and leave him docile. Outwardly he
appears contrite, if not downcast, sincerely believing in his heart that he is
least of all. But his heart is free of fear. "He can now begin to accomplish
effortlessly, as if spontaneously, everything that he previously did out of
fear" (RB 7.68). It is the humble, tested, monk that can "run along the way of
God's commandments," his heart expanded "with unspeakable sweetness of love" (RB
Prol 49). That's what it means to have a good conscience.
The other benefit of this struggle with the thoughts is compassion. The more
experience I have in the inner battle with my worst tendencies, the more I can
be understanding with others at grips with the same afflictions. The purity of
heart that allows us to see God also helps us to see our neighbor in a new
light. As we read in the ancient Book of Steps from the Syriac tradition: "Our
Lord ... is only to be seen openly ... by those who have abased themselves and
become at rest, gentle towards everyone, people who have done battle on their
own with evil spirits, who have purified their hearts of evil thoughts" (CS 101:
52-53).
"The quality of a monk's life is equivalent to the quality of his thoughts."
Besides this aspect of purification, there is also the aspect of filling the
mind with good things. We are wrong to relegate formation and education to the
novitiate and juniorate. Without continued training and education, the ground
won in the battle against the thoughts is slowly lost again. I do not mean
formal education or advanced study. It is lectio divina—one of the essential
exercises in our daily schedule—that fills the mind with good things and
constantly re-motivates us to resist the pull of spiritual laziness and
intellectual neglect. In order to know Christ and to be conformed to Christ, we
need constantly to be meeting him through what we read, and letting ourselves be
molded by that reading.
We are shaped by what we hear in the liturgy and read at lectio. In fact, we are
shaped by everything we hear and read. For lectio to be fruitful, we need the
discipline to use our time well, to choose our reading well, and to stay with
it. For lectio to be fruitful, the word has to fall on good soil. Everything
else we read, look at, or listen to in the course of the day affects our
receptivity in lectio. Part of the practice of lectio is keeping the field
clear: large doses of internet news, blogs, newspaper editorials and gossip
columns ruin your inner environment. Sow all the good seed you like, if the soil
is contaminated, nothing can even sprout.
"The quality of a monk's life is equivalent to the quality of his thoughts." We
are all responsible for enriching our minds and our thought world. It is good to
challenge ourselves to think clearly, to follow the reasoning of persons of
discernment who speak or write well, and to increase our understanding of our
faith. The notion of "having the mind of the Church" or "thinking with the
Church," sentire cum ecclesia, does not mean a mere repetition of Church
teaching. It means taking the time and effort to understand, struggle with, and
integrate sound doctrine. If your knowledge of what the Magisterium says comes
solely from news reports, you cannot claim to be making a serious effort in this
area.
A monk is as good as his thoughts. In other words, the quality of our monastic
life depends on how unified and integrated we become through the disciplines of
self-knowledge, lectio divina, and study.
***
The second contemporary maxim I would like to comment on comes from our current
Abbot General, Dom Bernardo. It is a statement he often reiterates in his
speaking and writing: "The quality of a community is equivalent to the quality
of its communication." Again, the value of this formulation is that it involves
multiple levels of meaning.
At the most basic level, it has to do with information. Accurate and timely
information does everyone good. When appropriate information is not shared
openly, we waste a lot of time getting word around, and people can feel left
out. It also has a direct effect on the atmosphere of silence: one clear
announcement in chapter renders unnecessary fifty plus conversations. More
important still, it gives the rumor mill less grist to grind. Objective
information—like schedules, times and topics of chapter talks, minor points
about the liturgy, etc.,—can be conveyed in writing on the bulletin board. But
most things are better announced when the community is gathered. It gives
everyone a chance to ask for or provide clarifications; it helps avoid mistakes
and misunderstandings. There is obviously a need to keep a balance between
prudence and openness; not everything can be said in public, but what can be
said should be said.
A community is as good as its communication. On another level it has to do with
the ability to organize and engage in structured conversation, i.e. dialogue.
Over the last several years our community has acquired some experience with this
kind of dialogue, and it seems to work well, especially when the purpose is
clear. We have used it to make practical decisions (e.g., the new building and
store) and to discern what direction we want to move in as a community (e.g.,
Eugene Hensell). I hope we can continue to benefit from this method when we need
it. And I hope we will be realistic in our expectations of what it can do for
us. Dialogue can help organize and discipline our conversation. It cannot
replace it. When the dialogue method works, it means we already know each other
and work well together. When there are distances and tensions in the community,
dialogue cannot substitute for what is missing at a deeper level.
To say that a community is as good as its communication also applies to our
communication habits in small things. The climate of the community depends to a
large extent on the interpersonal communication that is going on all the time.
If brothers ask each other for clarifications rather than react on the basis of
assumptions, if brothers offer apologies when apology is due, if brothers have
the courage to speak about thorny subjects before the tension builds—then we can
say there is good communication in the house.
The biggest hindrances to unifying communication are murmuring and gossip. They
are the collective equivalent of the vices and thoughts that disturb an
individual's inner peace. A monk can force himself to fit in with community
observance, but if he lets himself be dominated by evil thoughts, he will be
leading a poor monastic life. Likewise, a community can function well on the
surface, but if there is not good communication on all the levels I've just
mentioned, or if there is a lot of murmuring and gossip in the house, it is
leading a poor cenobitic life.
* * *
A monk's spiritual well-being depends to a large extent on the outcome of his
battles with the thoughts and passions. A community's well-being depends to a
large extent on its ability to root up "the thorns of contention" as the RB
calls them. What each does with his solitude affects the coenobium; and the
climate of the coenobium affects the quality of each one's solitude.
By way of conclusion, I invite you to listen to a short passage from St.
Augustine, where he is commenting on Jesus' teaching about praying to the Father
in secret. His words apply equally well to the monk who goes to his room to pray
in secret and to the cenobitic community that gathers in its cloister as a
school of charity.
When you enter into your inner room, you enter your heart. Blessed are they who
rejoice when they enter into their heart, and find nothing evil there. [ ...]
They are unfortunate who, when they return to their home, are afraid of being
cast out by some disturbance in their own family. Even more unfortunate are
those who are unwilling to return to their own conscience, lest they be overcome
by remorse for their sins.
Therefore, if you want to return willingly to your heart, purify it: "Blessed
are the pure of heart, for they shall see God." Cleanse your heart of the filth
of impure desires, of the stains of avarice, of the plague of superstition. Take
away sacrilege and evil thoughts. Take away hatred, not only against friends but
also against enemies. Get rid of all these things; then enter your heart and be
happy there. (Augustine En in Ps 33.2.8)
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