Wednesday, September 2, 2009

(37) Weakness

"Most important is the place of personal weakness in Benedictine
spirituality. This is only a 'little Rule,' Benedict wrote. 'For Beginners.'
And nothing 'harsh or burdensome' is prescribed (RB 73). This is a
rule for you and me, in other words."
[Joan Chittister, OSB, WISDOM DISTILLED FROM THE DAILY:
LIVING THE RULE OF ST. BENEDICT TODAY, Harper, 1990, p. 112.]

Reading over these above lines by this good Benedictine sister,
I nearly sighed with relief. Maybe it is about living too long, but I
see ever more clearly my own weakness. Happily, I've also lived
long enough finally not dwelling on such as much. And ultimately
I was able to turn my perceived weakness into a strength. However,
earlier in my life I used to browbeat myself for not being the perfect
little Benedictine.

When I first encountered St. Benedict's Rule, I didn't see it with any
sense of ease. I was rough on myself, trying to live out every word,
every letter, as perfectly as possible. Rigid! Rigid! Until I began to
feel a "dis" ease if you will. No longer comfortable, suffering from the
guilt of not being able, sad because of my stumbling, I felt a failure.

That's when I finally took myself to a spiritual director, who at the
time was my good Abbot. He brought a Benedictine *cheerfulness*
into my life. No great pronouncements, but rather a simplicity on
his part. He listened, and by doing so he taught me that it was all
right to be weak. We all start out as fledglings.

I only had a few years with my good Abbot. He died in his prime.
But he left me with enduring memories, especially those of kindness,
consideration, and love. For me, he reflected well the Christ Life.

As for myself, I was of a different nature. And that's something that
finally I had come to understand. My good Abbot had the nature
of a Father. I have more the nature of a Solitary. He realized that
and probably wondered why I was attracted to the Benedictine
Tradition.

It was about my "great need" to belong to a *community.* He
pointed out that, yes, I was a natural solitary--but all along I had
belonged to one community or another. I was not a hermit. I
belonged to the community of my universities, of my workplace,
of Church, and of my monastery. And later to those special
volunteer communities wherein I served.

My perceived weakness was feeling detached in the midst of
community, even when serving intensely. It always lingered as
a serious defect, or so I felt.

But my good Abbot helped me turn around this sense of weakness,
and actually turn it into a strength. By nature I was introspective,
but with help from many I was able to turn this introspection into
contemplation. A research scholar, which is more often a solitary
pursuit, I came to realize that over the years I had dedicated my
efforts towards the *service* of the Greater Community. And later
I dedicated my solitary research capacities towards trying better to
understand the Greater Reality that stands behind the All of it.

In the end I turned my longing, my loneliness, into solitude.
And one day I woke-up and felt that warm cheerfulness within
me that I once witnessed in my good Benedictine abbot.