CHAPTER NINE
Fix
CHAPTER NINE
The bloc of chapters 8-20 are commonly called the liturgical code, and academic discussion on the subject continues to fascinate scholars. By now there is considerable literature about it and it would not be difficult to engage with it. But I am simply content to know that Benedict gathered elements from various liturgies foreign to one e another—Rome, Milan, the East—and combined and brought them together into a harmonious whole.
These opening chapters look at the Office of Vigils, the subject not only of chapters 8 and 9, but also 10, 11, and 14, which tells us something about the importance that Benedict gave to it.
It was the Office that would end shortly before sunrise when Lauds iwould be said. It was unlikely to be done by candlelight, and so, lexcept for the cantors and readers, it would mean mostly listen- |ing to the Word of God and responding with texts known by heart.
\It is essentially about waiting.
Lauds is the hour that symbolizes the Easter light of Christ when this spiritual longing reaches its fulfillment. Starting prayer by saying three times, ''Lord, open my lips,'' at once proclaims that this is the work of God, that prayer is God at work in our mouth, our heart, our life. I pray not only because I am seeking
God, but because God is also seeking me. al This is followed by Psalm 3, a morning prayer with the words
I lie down to rest and I sleep I wake for the Lord upholds me.
This is followed by Psalm 94 (95) with its invitation to come in, joyfully (1), reverently (6), and penitently (8). It also has in verse
7 that wonderful line that brings us back yet again to the opening word of the Rule and to the underlying theme, ''O that today you would listen to his voice.'' Praying should be a dialogue of listen-
ing with "'the ear of your heart'' (Prol., 1), and I am given this daily reminder so that I must never let my ears be closed or my heart be hardened.
This is the first time that Benedict mentions the Gloria, which _-he recommends to be used at the end of the psalms or a group of psalms. It was a way of ''Christianizing'' the psalms—appro- '/priating their meaning in the light of the New Testament so that they become the words of Christ and speak of his message and his mission. It also had a particular significance at the time when the Rule was being written in the context of the current Arian heresy that emphasized the humanity of Christ to the exclusion of his divine nature. To rise therefore in public and stand and say, ''Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit"' was to make a public proclamation of faith and commitment to the Trinity.
This chapter also contains the first reference to the Ambrosian hymn (4). There are many hymns attributed to St. Ambrose, composed for every day of the week for the Divine Office. Ambrose had a great reputation for hymn writing, but many hymns attributed to him cannot be authentic, and so it is difficult to know what exactly Benedict had in mind here. They change with the season, time of the day, and the day of the week.
The reading of the Word is an essential element of the night Office. But Benedict is not content with merely listening to Scripture. He also wants a deepening of our understanding of it. How can we be fed if we do not stretch our minds? It is only too easy to let familiar passages from the Bible drift over me. Benedict wants me to make use of my intellect in my prayer. This means
I should study them, use my mind critically, see what others have to say about them, and let myself be humble enough to learn from their interpretations.
The Office centers upon the psalms (as it has always done from the earliest times in monasticism). The psalter was regarded as a prophetic book (which explains why Benedict, when quoting from the psalms, will often say ''the Prophet says'') and was read through from beginning to end. There were various ways in which the psalms might be said in choir, but then, as the monks knew them by heart, they would also rise naturally from their lips while.
'they were at work so that "'pray always. s,"' which is_ the essence . of monastic prayer, was a reality.
As Henri Nouwen became more 'at home with the life of the abbey of the Genesee he grew to love
the psalms, and he found that they began to weave themselves into his life. I like what Nouwen says, for it is something that I too have often felt: ''How happy are those who no longer need books but carry the psalms in their heart wherever they are and wherever they go. Maybe I should start learning the psalms by heart so that nobody can take them away from me.'' He goes on to say, ''Many time I have thought: If I am ever sent to prison, if I am ever subjected to hunger, pain, torture, or humiliation,
I hope and pray that they let me keep the psalms. The psalms will keep my spirit alive.
.'' That was, of course, exactly what Brian Keenan found when he spent those years imprisoned, and he discovered the great solace in the psalms.
The psalms are the songs of a journeying people, and I can identify in them many of my feelings on my own journey to God.
They express hope, fear, anger, delight. They are wonderfully honest. Sometimes they seem like incantations lulling me into the certainty of the goodness of God. Sometimes they are battle hymns that will not let me forget the tremendous battle against the forces of evil that surround me. Sometimes God is close, sometimes God is distant. Sometimes they speak of fullness and riches, at other times they come out of poverty and emptiness.
'When you take the psalms seriously and receive their spirit as your Own, you soon come into contact with some basic realities about human nature,'' says Matthew Kelty. ''What are you going to do when it dawns on you that the words of David are true not only of David, but of you?'' He goes on to say that the answer lies in Christ, to pray the psalter with Christ who shares our humanity and who will help us to cope with the forces of darkness that we recognize in our own depths. Whatever the mood of the psalms, or whatever my own mood, saying the psalms day in and day out, for year after year after year, no matter how I feel, unites me with thousands of men and women across all divides of time and place who have shared them with me.
CHAPTER TEN
As the seasons change and the nights grow shorter, Benedict chooses to shorten the time of prayer rather than the time of sleep.
The old and unhealthy practices of an asceticism that seemed to delight in the punishment of the body found no place in Benedict's scheme of things. The body needs its full complement of rest, and Benedict wants us to respect that. We have already seen that body, mind, and spirit each have their part to play in worship, and here once again we are shown how that balance is to be kept.
The essence of the night office—of ''nightly praise''—lies here in the psalms, in the full complement of twelve. So during these summer nights the readings may be reduced, but never the psalms.
The primacy of psalmody is once more emphasized.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In this chapter Benedict looks at the ordering of Vigils on Sunday, for it was common in monastic tradition to keep watch on Saturday night in order to greet the coming of Sunday morning, the first day of the week, the day that celebrates both creation and resurrection. As a result the Office is longer and more solemn. It centers on the reading of the Gospel by the abbot while all the monks stand in reverence and awe. The response, "'We praise you, God'' precedes the Gospel, and '*To you be praise'' follows it (8-10). The first day of the week is one on which to remember the gift of life through our creation and the promise of new life through the resurrection.
As I read through this detailed and rather complicated chapter, | appreciate the intention that underlies it, and that is the need to impose structure and framework. Benedict is willing to make allowance for human weakness in accepting that if monks oversleep certain things will have to be shortened. He does not mind going into detail where this will result in something more humanly convenient and stimulating. A judicious concern for detail is not the same thing as fussiness (it can make the difference between banality and beauty). But he has no room in his scheme of things for chance or carelessness.
So I find that if I read through this chapter very openly and honestly, it presents me with a number of questions on which I could do well to reflect. Am I sufficiently grateful for the gift of life? Is praise as central as it should be in my prayer? Do I try to hold onto some sort of framework and structure in the pattern of my prayer? Do I keep Sunday as a day apart, a day of celebration and thanksgiving that reminds me of the place of God in my life?