Introduction: The Man and his Message X1
Introduction: The Man and his Message 'Bernard, Bernard, why have you come here?' This was a question St Bernard used to ask himself every day when he was a novice at Citeaux.
One answer to the question seems to be expressed in Ribalta's painting of Christ embracing St Bernard from the cross. Bernard is completely absorbed, out of this world, a weary traveller come home after a long journey. Christ is leaning from his cross, the marks of his agony all about him.
Here is both the agony and the ecstasy; a being with Christ, or rather a union with the Word enfleshed in Christ.
The painting expresses the culmination of a relationship which according to Bernard's teaching was at the heart of the Cistercian/monastic life. He saw the focal point of this relationship as love. It is love that gives meaning to the monastic life. A love that is like the sunlight, not only giving light but warmth, not only enabling a person to endure and to bear, but also to rejoice. Love unites, and union through love means a union of wills, for the will is the means by which we become loving persons. So Bernard set himself to sort out the tangle of different kinds of loves and desires that drew his will this way and that. This is what the monastic life is for, and it is a lifetime's work.
The Bernard who entered Citeaux was an exceptionally gifted and talented young man, and he realised that developing his relationship with Christ was not quite the same thing as developing his gifts and potentialities, and that his choice to become a monk would impose limitations: his vocation would have to be ratified again and again, day after day.
Considering his gifts, it must have been a struggle at times — but in spite of his absences from his monastery on behalf of the Church he always remained at heart a monk and a Cistercian.
Introduction: The Man and his Message Bernard was, above all, profoundly Christian, soaked in the mysteries of Christ and in the doctrine of St Paul. Inviting
Thomas of Beverley to enter Clairvaux, he writes: 'Perhaps you will say that it is too late, and that you are a sinner. All right, so am I; and I am not put off by another sinner. I do not turn away from someone who is ill; for I know that I am ill too. Nor do I worry about the gravity of the sickness, when I think of the skill of the Doctor and of his pity and compassion which is so well known to me.' He repeats what he never tires of saying, 'Remember, no matter how great your sins, how bad your conscience, how dissolute your youth or mis-spent your life, yet you shall be cleansed, restored, renewed. Come and see, come and choose the best part that eye has not seen nor ear heard.' He explains that Jesus brings a message from his Father which he whispers to his friends — the message that we are each called from all eternity — and linked with this call, is the mercy of God which has no beginning, no end. It is a call to become a child of God, to be one's true self, a call to love.
Bernard has a very rich doctrine on the Spirit of love, the Holy Spirit, and says that it is the Holy Spirit who gives us both the courage to believe that God loves us, and the power to love in return — the Spirit, as it were, provides the love.
This, he says is the secret that Jesus passes on to his own, and the voice that tells us this is heard only with the ears of the heart; not in public, in the market place but in private — apart. 'So, come to Clairvaux and accept me as your fellowdisciple and we will both have one master, Christ, who is the end and meaning of the Law.' To another he writes,
'Come, if you want to grasp Christ, do not simply read about him but follow him. He stands before your eyes crying, "Whoever thirsts let him come to me and drink and I will refresh you." Are you afraid you will break down when Truth himself promises to refresh you?'
His letters show many facets of his personality; we see him very busy with those who have consulted him, preoccupied and tired out when dealing with matters of the Church and the monasteries under his care, and apt to get worked up if he feels the good of the Church is at stake. On the occasion of a controversial election of a new Archbishop at York, he
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Introduction: The Man and his Message writes to the Curia at Rome: 'I am on fire! I tell you I am so consumed that I am weary of life. What incredible rashness!
A man publicly infamous has become a Bishop — not consecrated I say but execrated.' Yet he writes on the very same matter to Abbot William of Rievaulx, his former secretary,
'I am writing to console you, for your zeal is well known to me and it would ill become our Order and not help your
House if this zeal were to flare up beyond the bounds of prudence and discretion — so bear it calmly'!
He could be infinitely kind and human, as when he wrote to the parents of one young monk: 'Do not worry about him, I will be a mother and father, both a brother and sister to him.' He could be sensitive and understanding and knew how to wait, as when he persuaded the contemplative and spiritually perceptive Richard of Fountains to continue in office although from the very beginning he had had another
Yorkshireman in mind to be Abbot of this new monastery.
Bernard especially gave support and encouragement. He encouraged Abbot Roger of Byland not to resign, even though he felt like an old man while he was still in his forties.
Then, tongue in cheek, he suggested that Roger's successors might have smaller estates. (It was in fact another 40 years before Roger finally resigned, by then aged over 90!)
He also encouraged, and even ordered, the young Aelred of Rievaulx to write his masterpiece The Mirror of Charity, and gave his friendship and support to Abbot Robert of Newminster who had been misrepresented and libelled by some of his community.
Though not strong physically, he persevered as a young monk with manual work, but ruined his health by fasting and penance, and we get a hint of his ill-health when he writes about visiting England: 'I wait and wait but up till now I have been prevented. The way is hard and difficult and my body is weak.' He went on to add that the journeys he had to make for the business of the brethren and the cause of the Church were like a heavy burden — but these journeys always led him back to his beloved Clairvaux.
There seems to have been something quite unique about the Clairvaux of Bernard's day. Many of the brethren sent to distant foundations wanted to return there to die. At first
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Introduction: The Man and his Message the buildings were poor and cramped, and when after some years the prior presented Bernard with some plans for a new monastery, his first reaction was the human, 'What will
| people say?' The life there was austere. The sight of the brethren working together in silence made William of St Thierry think of solitaries in community. But it was a real community, for Bernard had a genius for inspiring affection among the brothers, and said that one of the worst evils to which man can succumb is to be without affection. The brothers were concerned about one another, and ready to complain to Bernard if they thought he had treated one of them unjustly. He, on his part, insisted that they must be bound together not only by a life-stream of a shared love, but also by a shared will, a common ideal and purpose — a basic 'common will' as he called it, from which no one should opt out.
It was from his study of the Bible and of the Fathers of the Church, as well as from his knowledge of men and his own experience, that he learnt of God's unconditional love and goodness, and of his care for us sinners. He wrote of this in his treatises and sermons, and especially in his masterpiece — Sermons on the Song of Songs — where we can find a summary of his entire spiritual teaching.
He explains that we were made in the image and likeness of God, but through sin the likeness has been lost and the image defaced. Our life's work is to renew and restore this image. We still retain our free will, but natural effort on our part is not enough by itself and we cannot save ourselves.
First we need humility. This is the foundation, the ability, which is itself a grace, to recognise both our spiritual weakness and the love and power that God is offering to us. Then we must go further, accept our dependence and place our lives in his love and care. This is humility in action; it demands a reorientation of our self-love, a return of love to its source. It is love that is at the heart of our return to God.
Bernard also points out the need for faith — to bring us through those dry and monotonous periods of life when we are tempted to grow weary of well-doing. At such times, he says, we need the help of the Holy Spirit, who comes to dwell with us and gives a zest, a savour, a taste to our good
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Introduction: The Man and his Message works.
Bernard belongs to a different age and culture to ours, and we may not always find him easy to read. His approach to Scripture, his use of symbolism, and his play on words are sometimes not to our taste; but if we look only for ways of thought that are familiar to us, we may miss much of value that he offers when he speaks of the basic human and spiritual experiences that he and his contemporaries share with us today.
His whole approach is eminently biblical — showing us God's healing power bending down to raise us from the gutter to the closest union with the Word, and calling from us a deep radical trust that goes out to meet the incomprehensible goodness of Jesus who has made us his own.
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