Abbot Thomas X. Davis
Our Lady of Chau Son
Sunday Conference 4 Feb 2007
Sunday Conference 11 February 2007
Sunday Conference, February 25, 2007
Sunday Conference 21 January 2007
The Gospel (Lk 1:1-4; 4:14-21) says that Jesus returns to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, he enters the synagogue at Nazareth and reads from the prophet Isaiah: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord. … Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled….
We see Jesus, in his human nature, as someone not only under the aegis of the Holy Spirit, but as someone through whom this Spirit is manifested in every detail that he does and says, in all his actions and total, comprehensive behavior. Jesus presents himself to his contemporaries as an authentic spiritual person, and, that this is the locus or point of his contact with God. For God has anointed him with the Holy Spirit. From our view point today, we know that Jesus is the Second Person, Son of the Father and Full of the Holy Spirit, thereby bringing to an amazing fulfillment the spiritual dimension of our human nature by this anointing.
The Holy Spirit, in a remarkable manner, also brings to fulfillment the spiritual dimension of the human nature in each one of us. St. Benedict in the Prologue to his Rule tells us to listen to what the Spirit is saying. And what does the Spirit say? Come, Sons, hear me. I will teach you the fear of the Lord. Run while you have the light of life, that the darkness not overtake you. (Prol 11-13).
There are other quotations, too, in the Rule, showing the role of the Spirit in our lives. It is the Spirit that enables us to call God, Abba. (Ch 2.3) The Spirit fills us with joy as we work our way through lent. (Ch 49.6) Any good that shines out in us must come from one source only, that of a deep humility. Only the Spirit can accomplish this within each one of us. (Ch 7.70)
The Holy Spirit makes us sons of God; we call God Abba, Father. The Holy Spirit gives us a profound fear, not in the sense of “being afraid” but in the sense of a deep reverential humbleness before the Lord. The Rule of the Master speaks of the Holy Spirit as working through the monk; whereas The Rule of Benedict speaks of the Holy Spirit as working in the monk. The idea of “in” connotes the idea of the Holy Spirit dwelling in a place where this Divine Power of God really belongs.
Run while you have the light of life. The concept of running in the Spirit seems to be a favorite of Benedict; the word appears four times just in the Prologue. The other three are: Verse 22, we run by good deeds to dwell with the Lord in his tent. Verse 44, we must run and accomplish now what will profit us forever and ever. Verse 49, we run on our way with hearts full of unspeakable sweetness. Surrounded by all this light that comes from the Holy Spirit’s fire, we are able to make progress with great alacrity in becoming a spiritual person.
The sole purpose of our being in this monastery, of committing ourselves to the Cistercian Benedictine way of life, is to undergo transformation, or better, a transfiguration into spiritual persons, into Christ, who presents himself to us, today, as the spiritual person. It is important never to forget this reason why we have come here.
To speak about a Benedictine, a Cistercian spirituality is a valid way of speaking. Yet, from time to time, the question is raised: is there a Cistercian spirituality? Perhaps it is better to speak of being spiritual persons and the way the live as such rather than of a particular spirituality.
I believe we are called by Christ and the Holy Spirit to be spiritual persons in both body and soul. This is more comprehensive than just acquiring a spirituality with its particular attitude or way of seeing life. As a spiritual person our focus is in progressing more and more into the mystery of Christ’s life, and to make this progress using both body and soul. Everything in our life, however inane or trite, is to radiate some aspect of the mystery of Christ. Our life style, down to the most insignificant detail, can reveal that we are a spiritual person, whose focus in on the “good.” As monks, we do this in the context of the Rule of St. Benedict and our Cistercian tradition. These shape us spiritually. We cannot be spiritual persons in the abstract.
Our vocation, our call from Christ, shapes in a monastic manner the anointing we have received to bring glad tidings to a person poor in anyway whatsoever, to proclaim liberty to those held in any form of captivity, to give sight to the spiritually blind, to release various forms of oppression. Monks and monasteries are to be persons and places that shout clear and loud that now is the time of the Lord’s favor, inviting persons to come apart for a while and rest in a contemplative way of praying. William of St. Thierry says as a result of the Holy Spirit being in us it is impossible not to be like Christ. Should we occasionally fall or slip in our transformation process, we can’t remain in this state for long. These are consoling and positive words.
To sum up: Jesus is actually reading to us this passage from the Prophet Isaiah so that as faithful disciples, spiritual persons, we testify in a monastic way in the power of the Spirit that Jesus is Lord. Today’s Gospel and the voice of the Spirit, a voice that speak to us daily, call us to be spiritual persons in the manner of our monastic tradition and constitutions.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunday Conference 4 Feb 2007
Theophany of Jesus on the lake of Gennesaret Lk 5:1-11
The Apostles had been fishing all night to no avail. Jesus then suggests to Peter to put out into the deep and lower the nets. The result is a tremendous catch of fish. This manifestation of Jesus’ divine power so touches Peter that he falls on his knees and asks the Lord to depart from him as he is a sinner. The Lord tells him and the others not to be afraid of divine power; they will receive a new calling or vocation ; they are to become his apostles.
Due to the similarities in this event with the post resurrectional event given in Jn 21:1-11, some Scripture scholars think that Luke is recasting here, into the early part of Jesus’ ministry, a resurrectional manifestation of Jesus. To fall on one’s knees, to address Jesus as Lord, for Peter to call himself a sinner prior to his denial of Jesus; these suggest a post resurrectional event.
Be that as it may, there is here a theophany of the power, goodness, glory and majesty of Jesus. He is addressed as Lord and rightly so. Peter is stunned by this manifestation, and sensing the holiness of Jesus, he cries out: Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinner. These words convey not so much a moral meaning but one that expresses this exclamation: What is a Holy Person like you doing with me, associating with me! God is being extremely generous with sinners.
There are references in the Rule of St. Benedict conveying God’s generosity to monk-sinners. I would like to focus on two of them this morning under the theme of compunction. One comes in the Chapter on prayer: tearful compunction. (Conpunctione lacrymarum 20.3.) The other comes in the Chapter on Lent: heartfelt compunction. (Conpunctione cordis 49.4.) It might seem strange for compunction to be an experience of God’s generosity; but such is monastic experience down through the ages. As far as I know, these are the only two references to compunction in the Rule.
Compunction is the experience of being stunned by a truth in the sense of being pricked, or painfully shaken to the core of one’s being with the result of being prodded into making some basic changes for the better in one’s self. Compunction is not trying to stir up sorrow for sin, and has nothing to do with a sense of guilt.
The three elements of compunction are: 1) a grasp of one’s unworthiness in the presence of some kind of divine manifestation; 2) a truthful realization that gives birth to a deep affectus or a loving thrust towards the divine in spite of one’s sinfulness because this sinfulness is now an occasion of salvation. This affectus is a deep personal attraction for God spontaneously coming to birth as a result of this theophany in which God is attracting me and I long to be completely one with God; and 3) one is stirred up and intensely motivated to a new call in relationship to God.
What is impressive is that these two references in the Rule to compunction give the double movement or sensation of compunction: “tears” and “from the heart.”
The experience of being stunned to one’s depths or being pierced so intensely by the divine presence brings tears to a person. These are not tears coming from guilt or a sense of sin, even though both might be present, but from a sensation of God’s goodness in spite of experiencing personal unworthiness. Benedict sees this movement of compunction as an element of monastic prayer. The bed rock of monastic prayer is: God is good to me regardless so who I am.
The other movement of compunction is an experience of a strong heartfelt urge to be one with God through receiving mercy and salvation. There is a powerful element of joy in this experience that overshadows the experience of forgiveness, which is also present. This is Benedict’s heartfelt compunction which is an element of a good Lenten observance, an element that ought to endure throughout the monk’s entire life. The spiritual desire and joy (Ch 49) for the coming of the Resurrection rests on this element.
In his 56th sermon on The Song of Songs, St Bernard speaks of two kinds of compunction: the one in sorrow (I see this as tearful compunction) and the other in rejoicing in God’s gifts of graciousness and mercy. It is this double compunction that breaks through any wall separating is from the Lord.
Compunction implies allowing one’s inner depths to be pierced by the presence of the Word either through the Opus Dei / liturgy, or through lectio divina, or through those very special moments when the Word comes to us intimately in a prayerful experience, a theophany.
Once Peter experienced the presence of the goodness of God in the Lord Jesus, and was both astonished and joyful that the Lord was with him, he heard the words: Do not be afraid, you have a new vocation: you will be an apostle of all peoples.
So it is with us in our experience of compunction. The fruit of compunction results in our being changed for the better. This is a deep rooted change, one that really influences how we think and love; one we never forget. I think that this fruit is essential to the making of a spiritual person. It gives the most elemental freedom which is a detachment from our sins.
We experience a newness of life, a freshness that we did not have previously although our sins were forgiven. The newness or freshness, in its own way, gives a basic reorientation to our entire person. As St Bernard says, we break through what separates us from the Lord to be one with him and this makes us a new person. We think and live differently.
To sum up: compunction is something far more, far richer than just sorrow coming remembering our sins. It is a grace from the Lord’s manifestation to us that transforms us.
Sunday Conference 11 February 2007
According to the Gospel of Luke, Jesus came down from a mountain to a level place, and was surrounded with a tremendously great crowd of people. He raised his eyes to his disciples and said: Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours. (Lk 6:20-26) He continued proclaiming the other beatitudes, as we call them.
Beatitude per se does not confer any kind of blessing. Instead, it eulogizes the good fortune that has come to a person because of one or other reason. Beatitude does not give encouragement to someone to be something or to do some deed. It simply praises or gives approval on the basis of that person’s good fortune. Today we would say: Congratulations to you, a poor person, because of your success in possessing the kingdom of God.
I’d like to reflect on this congratulation to a poor person in the context of our monastic vocation, for we are the poor persons, the disciples of Jesus, towards whom he raises his divine eyes. As our Rule tells us, these divine eyes are always fixed intently upon us. (Prol 18; Ch 7:26) Like our Father, Benedict, we are thus called to live constantly in the gaze of these divine eyes. (Dialogues of Gregory the Great, II.2)
To be poor can be considered from various aspects: economic, theological, spiritual, and monastic. In our monastic culture, in which we are constantly being formed until death, our Constitutions # 10 states clearly that we monks retain nothing at all for ourselves, not even authority over our own body and the Rule (50.24-25) adds, our soul too. We renounce the capacity for acquiring and possessing goods for ourselves; all forms and traces of proprietorship are to be swept away. Yet, our monastic poverty is for the purpose of something special.
This past week in class with the junior monks, we studied what is known in our Cistercian writings as “the common will.” Among the sources we used, was that famous chapter from Thomas Merton’s book, The Waters of Siloe, Ch 14, Paradisus Claustralis. Merton’s ideas on the common will gives a definite shape to what it means for us to be poor in our monastic and Cistercian culture. Our monastic poverty is not economic poverty, nor for the sake of being detached and “doing without.” Its purpose is the common will: which is defined as a personal union with the Will of God manifested in our common life style.
We pray many times each day for this common will to be something real in our lives when we utter those words of Jesus: Your Will be done. It is our belief that this divine will flows through the community’s life. The Holy Spirit is the common will; God is the common life of our community. This divine presence and will expresses itself in the demands made on each one of us by our Rule, Constitutions and even the smallest circumstances of our common life together. These demands are some of the ways where by the authority over our own bodies and souls is removed!
Even in our prayer life we are to throw open to the divine deifying light, the divine eyes, all the doors to the dark corners of our conscience and consciousness. Otherwise there will always be some kind of little wall or obstacle hindering a thorough union with God. William of St. Thierry says we are not to tolerate any type of private cranny or any little corner in our consciousness (soul) wherein we keep something for ourselves.
This ongoing process, our conversation, is such radical stripping away of everything, that it leaves us quite naked, and as Merton says in the context of his personal quest for solitude, quite alone. In our quest, however, it is for the sake of a union of wills, and can unfold into an experience of a radical and profound love for one another and for God.
There is another aspect to our poverty. Seen in this context of the common will, it offers another interesting experience: it gives us a new way to understand and know God’s dealing with us. The poverty of a common will requires a far-reaching commitment in our lives. Fidelity in this commitment brings to birth an incredible patience so that, as we work our way through our monastic conversatio, we come to believe and know that all, every aspect of our life, is God’s graciousness. A profound sense of God’s gratuitous love is itself a tremendous freedom and liberation from whatever can hold us captive in our lives, i.e. all concern, anxiety and attachment to whatever pertains to body and soul.
From this view point, the common will is an excellent preparation for contemplative union with God. This radical love and tremendous freedom is, in my estimation, possessing the kingdom of God.
So, then, congratulations to all of us, poor persons, because of our success. The kingdom of God is rightly ours.
Jesus, in the prayer he offered before his passion and death, asked that we all become one. We do not belong to the world with all that it has to offer, nor are we to live with the attitudes of the world. For we belong to the glory that the Father has given to Jesus for the precise purpose that we may be one as the Father and Son are one. (Jn 17)
Soon, the sacred season of lent will be upon us. As we gently move into it, let us mull over in our minds the implications and demands to live as poor persons in the gaze of the divine eyes, to be immersed in the common will in its twofold dimension, living the common life in order to seek God’s Will for the sake of the Kingdom of God.
Sunday Conference, February 25, 2007
Lk 4.1-13
Today’s Gospel is Luke’s account of the temptation of Jesus. Jesus is led by the Holy Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. These temptations reveal the hostility, opposition and rejection that Jesus would experience in His earthly life. There is no doubt that Jesus was tempted during His earthly life. Possibly, these temptations are a stylized version of His experiences.
We see Jesus, as the Son of God, obedient to the Father’s Will. He refuses to be seduced into using His divine power and authority as Son of God for any reason other than that for which He had been send by the Father into the world.
These temptations come from an external source, the devil, Satan. They do not emerge as if coming from an inner source within Jesus. His human will is rooted in the Will of the Father. In the desert, the Israelites were put to the test and failed. Jesus is compared to them; He succeeds for He is the Son of God. What I find interesting is that Jesus uses Scripture to confront and overcome Satan. He quotes passages from the Book of Deuteronomy which pertain to mystery of the desert.
The Rule of Benedict does not use the words “Satan,” “temptation,” or “to be tempted.” The Prologue to the Rule advises the monk that when the wicked one, the devil, suggests something, he pushes both him and his advice out of the sight of his heart; he annihilates these incipient thoughts, taking them and smashing them against Christ. (Prol.28)
The successful cenobitic monk is one who has learned to fight against the devil. (Ch 1.4) Such a monk does not give even the occasion to the devil to generate evil thoughts. (Ch 54.4) The monk is to be especially sensitive to diabolic instigations to forsake the monastery and monastic life. (Ch 58.2)
The Prologue contains the teaching that we put the devil to flight by listening to the Word of God. As Jesus used Scripture to do this, so we are to imitate His example.
Here are just a few examples of this teaching:
Now, then, I address my words to you: whoever is willing to renounce self will. (v. 3)
Therefore, let us arise at long last, for Scripture stirs us with the words: it is time to rise from sleep. (v. 8)
Actually, the entire Prologue itself, so full of quotations from Scripture, is a call to listen to the Word of God in one’s conversatio or ongoing transformation.
The early Egyptian monks, in imitation of Jesus, went out into the desert to fight the devil. They developed a somewhat special way of listening to the Scripture. It was not so much just reading the Bible and its commentaries for meditation. Rather, they immediately put into practice in their own lives what they read in the Scripture. In this way, they learned by first hand personal experience what the Word could do for them. They were able to confront and conquer those demons dwelling deep within every human heart. They understood from experience what it means to be transformed by God speaking directly and tenderly to the human heart.
The application of this process to us is rather obvious. In the desert of our daily renunciation / desert (the Greek word used for desert means in its root: renunciation), we listen, read and chant the Scriptures, especially the Book of Psalms. We do this for the same purpose as these Egyptian monks: namely, to face the utter loneliness and inner fearfulness, which are experiences of every human life that can lead to renunciation, which in its turn, creates in our lives a magnificent space for God.
This entire process, which is the mystery of the desert-a magnificent space for God coming from renunciation, reaches its climax on Good Friday. Part of our Good Friday liturgy is to recite the psalms for a half hour. In former times, at Gethsemani, I can recall chanting in choir the entire Psalter on Good Friday morning. Fr. Louis told us that this is an opportunity to come to know Christ is a more intimate manner.
We chant the Psalms daily. If we are attentive to what we sing and hear, we experience the mystery of Christ and open ourselves to that personal darkness of loneliness and fear found deep within our hearts. Christ used Scripture to confound Satan; we can use Scripture to cofound Satan working deep within us, and come to know a more intimate union with Christ himself.
In this way, each time we assemble in choir to chant the Opus Dei, we imitate Christ in his temptations in the desert by responding with Scripture to the devils suggestions. Furthermore, we are faithful to the call of the Prologue of the Rule, which presents to us this mystery of the desert: listen with astonished ears to the warning of the divine voice, which daily cries out to us (tenderly and directly): Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts. (V 9-10)
Sunday Conference 3 June 2007
Most Holy Trinity
In today’s Gospel Jesus tells us that the Holy Spirit will glorify him because the Spirit will take from Jesus what is his and declare it to us. Jesus continues: Everything that the Father has is mine; for this reason I told you that the Spirit will take from me what is mine and declare it to you. (Jn 16.13-15)
The Greek word for “declare” is the same as for “announce” like announcing the Gospel. The use of this word presents the Holy Spirit as a divine evangelist. Previously, Jesus identified himself to the woman at the well as a divine evangelist, the Messiah who would announce all things to humankind. (Jn 4.25) To evangelize is a divine characteristic. The Spirit will announce the truth that the divine Persons have in common. When the Spirit of Truth comes, he will guide you in all truth. (Jn 16.12)
In my Palm Sunday conference, I defined truth as the presence of God revealed in a unique way in Christ. Today I would like to reflect on the Trinity revealed as Truth in the presence of Christ, and to do this reflecting using The Rule of St. Benedict. In other words: I want to look at the presence of Christ in the Rule as revealing in a unique way Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Chapter 9, verse 7 asks the monks to rise and bow at the end of a psalm in the Opus Dei in order to honor and reverence the Trinity. This is the only direct use of the word “Trinity” in the Rule. But, the Rule does contain a rather profound understanding of each of the Divine Persons in terms of God’s presence among us.
Father
God the Father is addressed as Creator. When Benedict does this, he places the entire Opus Dei in this mystery of creation. The monks gather day and night in choir to render praise to our Creator for the judgments of his justice. (16.5) While parts of this chapter are identical with The Rule of the Master, the words for the judgments of his justice (super iudicia justitiae) are proper to Benedict himself.
Justice: Kardong and Brockmann define this justice as a bond of fidelity between two persons; an interpersonal fidelity between the Creator and us. God is always faithful to us; we will strive to always be faithful to God because God created us. This is the underlying rationale or justification for our daily choral prayer as a community. This same idea of justice is also the theme of final chapter in his Rule. Benedict offers us, here, the Catholic patristic writings for they teach us how to reach our Creator by the direct route we are to follow in our return to the Father. (73.4)
Son
In Gregory the Great’s life of Benedict (C 35) there is the famous vision wherein Benedict sees the whole world in the divine light of the Creator. I believe this vision is telling us that, since Christ is light, the Father has created all creation in Christ. This implies that we are a part of Christ’s existence which is a unique manifestation of God’s presence. This is the truth taught in the Prologue to John’s Gospel. All things have been created in Christ; all creation belongs to Christ. All Creation is in the divine light of Christ. It is in Christ that we and all creation render honor and reverence to God, the Creator. This vision of Benedict contains the subtle foundational principle of Benedict’s spirituality: we initiate our return to the Father,our Creator, by our Opus Dei and journey daily along the path of monastic conversatio or life style. Both express for us the mystery of Christ’s life.
Benedict uses the phrase judgments of his justice. These judgments (arrangements) of the Creator’s justice (fidelity) are the events of Christ’s life culminating in his glory: the passion, death, resurrection and ascension wherein Christ and the Father are faithful to one another. Our spiritual and liturgical lives are but a remembering of this truth of Christ’s life. The heart of a monk’s spiritual life is found in Benedict’s in Chapter 7. Humility is the garment of divinity as made present in the life of Christ. We are privileged to enter into this mystery of humility. Just as we enter into the divine presence by creation along with our personal creation and thus into the mystery of God as Creator, so we enter into the divine presence of the God-Man’s humble kenosis and thus into the mystery of God as Incarnate. (Philippians 2.6 ff.)
Holy Spirit
There are few references to the Holy Spirit in Benedict’s Rule. Yet, the role of the Holy Spirit is well attested to by these simple words of Benedict at the end Chapter 7: the Lord will graciously make all this shine forth by the Holy Spirit. These words parallel today’s Gospel: Spirit will take from me what is mine and declare it to you. (Jn 16.15) The Holy Spirit takes the mystery of Christ’s kenosis, his humility, and brings it alive in our lives. By allowing the Spirit to transform our lives in this way, we enter into this manifestation of divine presence and thus into the mystery of God as Spirit of Truth.
Commentators on The Rule of Benedict agree that the last paragraph of this Chapter on humility is the only place where the three divine persons are mentioned together: Father in the words charity of God; Son in the words love of Christ; the Spirit in the words by the Holy Spirit. (caritatem Dei; amore Christi; Spiritu Sancto.)
Summary: The one place in the Rule where “Trinity” is mentioned is in the context of the conclusion to each psalm in the Opus Dei. The one place where all three persons are mentioned together is in terms of charity, love, and graciousness in last paragraph of Ch 7.
Our interpersonal relationship with each person flows from our living in the divine presence as Creator, Humility, and Transformation. While the Rule may not mention the three persons that frequent, their influence on who we are and how we live and what becomes of us is divinely direct and graciously powerful. It behooves us to honor and reverence the Trinity and strive to return to God by the most direct ascent in justice.
Sunday Conference Corpus Christi 10 June 2007 (Lk 9:11b-17)
We are familiar with the different gospel accounts of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. Today’s account comes from the Gospel of Luke. Jesus has been preaching to a multitude of people in a deserted place. The Twelve approach him asking that he dismiss the people so they can go and buy food. Jesus tells them to feed the multitude. They respond that all they have is five loaves and two fish. Jesus performs the miracles. All eat and have their fill. Twelve baskets of fragments are left over.
This account was probably selected for today’s solemnity due to its Eucharistic overtones and teaching. We see the God-man feeding his people. God feeds so generously that the people have their fill with plenty left over. The fact that this Gospel account says Jesus took bread, looked up to heaven, blessed the bread and fishes, then broke them and gave them to the Twelve to be distributed is highly suggestive of the very early Eucharistic liturgies of the nascent Church. The substance of bread and fish is multiplied making this miracle a wonderful nature miracle having an effect on creation. We are challenged to ask ourselves: Who is this person? Jesus asks from time to time: Who do you say that I am?
This miracle having an effect on creation brings to mind the teaching of Benedict XVI in his recent apostolic exhortation on the Holy Eucharist, Sacramentum Caritatis. The Pope says: In this way, (referring to the Eucharist) Jesus left us the task of entering into his “hour.” The Eucharist draws us into Jesus’ act of self-oblation. More than just statically receiving the incarnate Logos, we enter into the very dynamic of his self-giving. Jesus draws us into himself. The substantial conversion of bread and wine into his body and blood introduces within creation the principle of a radical change, a sort of “nuclear fission,” to use an image familiar to us today, which penetrates to the heart of all being, a change meant to set off a process which transforms reality, a process leading ultimately to the transfiguration of the entire world, to the point where God will be all in all. (Sacramentum caritatis 11)
Pope Benedict is saying: Holy Communion is more than just receiving the body and blood of the Lord. It is the action of Jesus’ self-giving drawing us into his self-oblation. It is a principle of radical change penetrating our heart, the core of who and what we are, to transform us and through our transformation, to transform all creation. These are powerful words.
If we are to allow ourselves to be drawn into Jesus’ self giving, we need to eliminate any resistance in our lives that hinders this process. What can we do to abolish the resistance that separates us from our Beloved who, in this Sacrament, stands there on the other side of this resistance, gazing at us, looking at us, and whispering to us: Arise my love, my fair one, and come? (Song of Songs 2.9-10)
Chapter 33.4 of The Rule of Benedict offers a response to this question in saying that we have neither our bodies nor our wills for our disposal. This radical monastic dispossession means we have nothing whatsoever that we can call our own. Whatever may have been Benedict’s original intention, early monastic theology sees this dispossession as a way we can respond and give our very self to Christ because Christ has given his very self to us in his self effacement. Jesus Christ who, thought he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be taken advantage of, but emptied himself taking to form of a slave, being born in human likeness, and being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to death, even death on a cross. (Philippians 2.5-8)
This dispossession keeps us aware that we owe everything to God: what we are, what we have; what happens to us. We have here our initial openness to the dynamic of the Eucharist as Pope Benedict explains it.
While it may not be correct to understand our monastic dispossession as the main reason for us to live in community, as cenobites, having all things in common, I like to see our communal life style as a another way of being open to this dynamic of the Eucharist. Our daily living in community with all that it implies and entails is can provide an openness to the mystery of the Eucharist. Communal living has a way of dispossessing.
This verse 4 uses the word “wills;” voluntates is the Latin. This word implies all the things we want: our desires, intentions, whatever we scheme or connive to have. All this is understood to be part of our dispossession, perhaps even, the more essential part of it.
Isaac the Syrian offers profound humility that can bring us directly into the Jesus’ self giving. Isaac maintains we need an awakening of our conscience, or consciousness as I like to call it. This awakened consciousness, which is at the heart of love, teaches us not to accuse God or neighbor in anything, not to lay blame for whatever happens in life and not to try and justify ourselves. The lack of these in any undertaking is a sign of hardness of heart: it is an indication that a person is in the habit of justifying himself, of blaming his neighbor, or even worse, of blaming the wise provision of God. (II.37.1-2 CS 175, p 119)
Whatever degree of hardness of heart we may experience, to that degree we lack an deep inner stillness or quiet that is basic to hearing the Eucharistic Jesus calling to us: arise, my love, and come. Hardness of heart, understood as Isaac presents it, prevents us from being drawn into the Eucharistic dynamic of Jesus’ self-giving and, consequently, missing our divine transfiguration and thus finding ourselves basically useless in creation.
I hope these thoughts help us understand and appreciate Corpus Christi. For as # 18 in our Cistercian Constitutions says: The Eucharist is the source and summit of the whole Christian life and of the brothers’ communion in Christ. For this reason it is to be celebrated by the whole community every day. It is by sharing in the paschal mystery of the Lord (i.e. a mystery of divine love and dispossession) that the brothers are united more closely with one another and with the whole Church. Our Pope would add: and at the heart of the transfiguration of creation.