CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 13
BOTH Benedict and Sigfrith were worn out with their protracted illness; they knew that they were near to death and would never be fit to rule the monastery again. Their infirmity gave scope for the strength of Christ to be perfected within them,1 but, physically, they were so weak that one day, when they both wished to see and talk to each other before they died, Sigfrith had to be carried on a stretcher to the room where Benedict lay on his pallet. Their attendants set them side by side with their heads resting on the same pillow – a sight to move you to tears. Though their faces were close together, they had not strength enough to turn to kiss each other, but had, even in this, to be helped by the brethren. Then, after consulting Sigfrith and all the rest of the monks, Benedict called Ceolfrith, whom he had put in charge of the monastery of St Paul, and appointed him abbot of both foundations. The virtues they shared bound Ceolfrith to Benedict more closely than any family relationship; and all the monks welcomed the appointment and judged it most admirable. Benedict thought it best from every point of view that both houses should from then on be under the guidance of one father and rector, for that way they would be kept together in harmony, unity and peace. He several times reminded them of the example of the kingdom of Israel which no foreign nation had ever been able to exterminate or damage just as long as it had been ruled by a single ruler from its own people, but when – as a result of its former misdeeds – it was divided against itself by hostile factions, it gradually perished and, once its stability was shattered, came to an end. He never ceased to warn them to keep in mind the gospel precept: ‘Every kingdom divided against itself will be brought to desolation.’ 2