Upon This Tradition III:
Of All Good Gifts:
A Statement on the Nature of Stewarship
in the Lives of American Benedictine Sisters

Saint Joseph, Minnesota, June 19, 1980

During World War II, a German widow hid Jewish refugees in her own home. As her friends discovered the situation, they became extremely alarmed.

'You are risking your own well-being,'they told her.

'I know that,'she said.

'Then why,'they demanded, 'do you persist in this foolishness?'

Her answer was stark and to the point. 'I am doing it,' she said, 'because the time is now and I am here.'

WHAT TIME IS NOW? WHERE ARE WE?

Each of us also stands in time and place. We stand, too, as American Benedictine women in a 1500-year tradition.

The call of this document is simply to see our own obligations to life at this time in history and to respond with the widow's sense of conscious and converting commitment. For the times are just as crucial, the issues just as complex. In ways never before faced in history, we realize that the planet is unitary, the population interdependent, and the possibility of human destruction real. Someone must steward the world.

The book of Genesis is almost casual in its assertion that God created heaven and earth . . . and saw that it was good. But the statement has become debatable.

How good is an earth in which over 15,000 people die of starvation daily?

How good is a heaven with air too thick to breathe?

How good is a world where one-third of the people consume more than two-thirds of its goods?

Or to put it another way, some people see their lifework as productive and rewarding; the earth and all it holds as good; life as full of the blessings of God. Others work only for survival, see little in life to recognize as God's goodness to them, find themselves powerless.

And what can anyone do about it? Benedictines of the sixth century modeled a stable structure for a society without a center. Succeeding generations of Benedictines were not always so faithful in responding to the problems of their day. We must choose here and now. What can Benedictines of this century offer in a world which lacks a community conscience, a vision of the sacredness of creation, a commitment to the dignity of life?

Our answer is monastic stewardship: that we use what we are and what we have for the transformation of culture because creation is the Lord's and we are its keepers; we hold it in trust. (1) We must remember always that the earth is not so much inherited from our parents as borrowed from our children. We owe a debt to the next generation.

Two temptations face monastic communities in a world deeply in need of stewardship: the first, that we can do nothing; the second, that we must do everything. Benedictine communities are traditionally small, decentralized, local. In this very organizational fragility may well lie our strength and certainly our challenge. Like all the ordinary people of the world, the Benedictine knows what it is to be small in the face of corporate grandeur and powerless in a rigid system, yet responsible for tomorrow.

Although the situation is obvious, the solutions are certainly not. Though the questions are urgent, the answers are complex.

The world has become an interlocking village--big, bureaucratic, impersonal, remote. Decisions made in one part of the world have long-range consequences on the rest of it. Pollution of the Great Lakes eventually affects the water systems of the whole earth. Destruction of the South American forest lands reduces the air quality of the entire hemisphere. Concentration of mineral resources in the hands of a few retards the development of half the families of the world. The control and consumption of energy sources by some make technology unavailable to most. The weak are oppressed. Women are exploited and excluded. The powerful are enslaved by their own selfish impulses.

These are the signs of the times. While some of us are living well, others are barely able to live at all. The question for Benedictine communities of the twentieth century is the question of the sixth century--no more, no less. What, if any, is the role of the monastic tradition in the development of the world order and life? We cannot do everything; we can do something.

WHO HAS EARS TO HEAR?

The word of God reminds us that material goods and the products of human genius, fashioned in the service of truth and love, are blessings indeed. This is because of their divine origin, and more: because God's Son took a body like ours, lived and toiled, loved and died, then rose from death to redeem the whole of creation. In light of the incarnation, we recognize the holiness of earth, the oneness of humanity, and the transcendence of selfless love over selfishness in every form.

The prophets of Israel called the people to be faithful to their covenant with God by exercising justice and righteousness. Rituals, offerings, and intercessions mattered little unless accompanied by upright hearts. Even though you make many prayers, I will not listen; your hands are full of injustice (Isa 1:15). The prophets spoke for a God who cares about all people. Every third year, one-tenth of all produce was set aside for the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow (Deut 26:12).

This practice and others were built into the pattern of daily life and the yearly cycles to provide for the forgiveness of debts, the freeing of the oppressed, and a more equal distribution of lands and wealth. It is on this prophetic impulse that Jesus drew when in the synagogue of Nazareth he read from Isaiah: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore, he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind and release to prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the Lord (Luke 4:18-19).

The Gospel accounts show us Jesus' concern for all, rich or poor; yet his attention was frequently focused on those who lacked power and possessions. He demanded that his friends relinquish concern for personal possessions out of regard for the needs of the community. The ideal of the Christian community in Acts is this: Those who believed shared all things in common. . . . With exultant and sincere hearts they took their meals in common, praising God and winning the approval of all the people (Acts 2:44,47). Extremes of poverty and affluence are avoided. Distinctions of rank, class, nationality and sex vanish: All are one in Christ Jesus (Gal 3:28).(2)

Benedict, the man of God, confronted the human questions of power, material goods, and personal relationships as he presented his rule for beginners. The Rule's gospel spirit binds Benedictines to simplicity of life, to moderation, and to respectful use of even the humblest objects as if they were vessels of the altar (RB 31:10). Our attitude toward the poor and strangers must be one of great care and concern . . . because in them more particularly Christ is received (RB 53:15).

Each historical period makes its special demand upon the human community. In our times the church has addressed repeatedly the challenge of justice, stewardship and peace (3) because action for justice and efforts to transform the world are constitutive elements of the Christian life and incumbent upon all who accept the Gospel. (4)

We who claim to live according to the Gospel accept this for ourselves; therefore, we must return in humility to our roots. To identify with Jesus the poor one, the marginal one, we must speak for the voiceless; we must make good use of our gifts and resources; we must select and conduct our ministries in such a way that the weakest can share in what we are and have.

WHAT HAS BEEN ENTRUSTED?

A first impulse regarding stewardship is often to concentrate on political and economic reform. But monastic communities need to give this initial response deeper thought. The first question is: how can we live humanly, sanely and justly on this planet? Though some change will come through structural reform, it is more in the prophetic tradition of monasticism to take a leap over the interim period and begin living the model of the future. Community as prophet must act out, enflesh the message that we are God's people and that strangers can commit themselves to each other and become family. Benedict didn't try to reform Rome; he began to build a new society in the shell of the old. Does the monastic paradigm have anything to offer the new earth?

All Christians are called to stewardship, to use what we have been given for the good of all. By the parable of the unjust steward we are reminded that each person, each group, is given special gifts to preserve and share. Out of this awareness arises a new consciousness of the importance of the various charisms of religious orders in the church. Each religious order, too, holds special gifts in trust. (5) We must, then, ask of ourselves what special dimensions of creation are ours to steward.

Tradition, history and lived experience affirm that the central elements of the monastic heritage are contemplative vision and community. It is our responsibility to share these gifts today and to preserve them for future generations. In this heritage lie the seeds that can be planted and harvested to help humanity develop and grow equitably, to help humanity survive.

CONTEMPLATIVE VISION

To see with the heart of Christ is perhaps the best definition of contemplative vision. This contemplative experience is to be nurtured and shared; it makes an essential contribution to the church's call for justice and peace. Contemplation reminds us that before a new earth can be born, we must link our efforts at systemic change with a more fundamental need: transformation of the old person into the new. We as Benedictines have a special imperative in view of our vow of conversion.

This is a very necessary witness in a society which once expected to solve its problems by technology and activism, a society which neglects inner conversion in favor of the cosmetic and which values the functional and streamlined far more than the spiritual.

A monastic community, on the other hand, seeks to create an environment conducive to mindfulness: awareness of God, self, one another, and the sacredness of creation. It values Eucharist, lectio, celebration of the Hours, solitude, silence, and leisure because these experiences enable the word of God to penetrate the heart and take root. Only then is it possible to uncover one's truest, best self. Contemplatives know that they are made in God's image and that God is love. They are alive then, and so afire with love that participation in violence of any kind is unthinkable.

A community with a contemplative vision (6) is a center of life; its members impelled to preserve, cherish, and nurture all that is touched by the Creator's hand. Traditionally, monastic communities have expressed and shared the contemplative vision through prayerful hospitality, reverent use of created goods, and a nonviolent lifestyle.

Hospitality

The intensity of the contemplative vision in any monastic community can perhaps best be reflected in and nourished by its spirit of hospitality. In primitive Eastern monasticism, monks and nuns continued the ancient Christian practice of hospitality by building and supporting hostels, distributing alms, providing places of refuge, laboring with their own hands to give food to the stranger, the poor, and the hungry. (7) With the transition of monasticism from East to West, cenobitic life according to the Rule gradually prevailed and became the vehicle for the practice of Christian hospitality and insertion into the needs of the local church.

In the exercise of Christian hospitality we come to recognize the face of Christ in the stranger and in the familiar. Nor may we stop there. Direct contact with the poor, the homeless, the abused, the weak is an expression of trusting hospitality which is especially crucial in a society where neighbors bolt their doors and in a world where nations build nuclear walls.

Victims of violence, people struggling with the great questions of life, and groups restive within the church and society--all these are welcomed to the monastic community for refuge and comfort and healing. Our liturgical celebrations, prayer life, talents, and properties should be shared with those in need. This can be our way of putting the contemporary understanding of the principle of private property under scrutiny and reclaiming the older Christian teaching of common ownership as the primary human right. Belief that the goods of the earth belong to God and are given equally to all will begin to take flesh when monastic communities exercise their charism of hospitality by opening their doors yet wider to share their lives and goods.

Use of Created Goods

Let all things be regarded as vessels of the altar (RB 31:10), Benedict reminded the waste-makers of his day. This exhortation is a clear indication of how the contemplative vision overflows into proper use of resources. A spirit of reverence for all creation permeates the Rule, together with a sense of oneness with the land, the days, and the seasons. Such conscious respect for all created goods makes it impossible to pollute land, water, or air, to waste resources, or to forget about the children who will one day inhabit the earth.

This monastic mindfulness extends to all activities of life from the preparation of a meal to responsible concern for global conditions. Throughout history, monastic communities have fostered both technical development and conservation of resources, so that their gentleness and reverence toward the environment might give meaning to the prayer, The Lord's are the earth and its fullness (Ps 24:1).(8)

Certainly this earth is greatly in need of gentle, healing hands. Problems related to energy and industry are spiraling toward catastrophic consequences. The gap between those who over- consume and those who lack means for survival continues to widen. How do monastic communities today articulate our belief that dominion is God's, and that we are merely caretakers, obliged to use what we have for the good of all?

We must admit that some intentional communities, families, and individuals are far ahead of monastic communities in practicing proper use of resources. By all means, let us learn from them, and quickly. But monasticism has also something to contribute: a balanced approach, an aesthetic sense, and a certain grace that could attract the affluent as well as the poor, and help them discover or deepen their sense of reverence for the wonder and beauty in all creation.

Peace and Nonviolence

The motto engraved on the gates of ancient Benedictine monasteries is a simple but profound one: PAX. Peace was and is the sign of a contemplative community. Since we are conversion communities, our responsibility is not only to be people of peace but also to foster as far as we can the achievement of peace in the society around us. We may thereby call people to hope, for the peace of God is a gift to be shared with others. In past times, people entering Benedictine communities put away destructive weapons and rebuilt devastated country-sides. They planted crops on lands once ravaged by war; they taught enemies to live side by side as friends. To the earliest monastic communities was entrusted responsibility for keeping alive for the faithful the pacifist tradition, the ideal taught by Jesus that we must overcome evil with good, that we must love our enemies, that Christians must not kill. (9)

In later centuries, monastic communities abandoned the nonmilitary tradition; they began to mirror the culture regarding attitudes toward war. Because Benedictines became inept stew-ards of nonviolence, the church was deprived of an essential witness of peace. In consequence, its own contribution to pacifism suffered.

We live in critical times; modern war threatens the annihilation of all life on this planet. Millions of people go hungry while billions of dollars are fed to munitions factories, not to children. Though conversion to a peace economy is possible, few people in this society, fewer in our government, seem to realize that we must take steps to make this possible.

With a sense of urgency, then, we ask: can we not as monastic communities reclaim our prophetic voice for peace? Have we the courage to teach and live the meaning of nonviolence, to challenge the church to proclaim it, to resist the forces blocking the path to disarmament? Benedictine women can embody the motto, PAX, by taking risks, even audacious ones, for the sake of peace on earth.

COMMUNITY

We Benedictines are stewards in a stable community. Ours is not merely a stability of place, but more important, a stability of heart and purpose: a community trying to be a believable sign that Gospel living is possible. Manual and intellectual toil are anchored in the Benedictine vow of stability. Out of a faithful and shared experience of life comes the steady impulse to growth and development, not just for ourselves but for others as well. Cenobitic authority is seen as a service which gives the community a center and calls forth the gifts of its members. Stable communal monastic life is able to confront the transient elements of the culture with enduring effect.

Inserted into the local church by this stability of place and by enduring, loving relationships, we can hold up before others a proof that people can live together as Jesus prescribed--without violence, without wealth, without power in the usual sense of the word. Our tradition exemplifies the worth of a common life spent in work that is stable and productive, human and liberating. This is no small gift at a time when materialism, consumerism and over-consumption have bloated many people's lives beyond reason, when alienation and boredom are common. It is no small gift in a day when familiar institutions are weak and individuals feel hopeless and rootless, when the loudest response to worldwide instability, it seems, is the threat of massive destruction.

Faced with this impersonal, complex, and chaotic scene, our Benedictine model of shared life together is a modest but strategic contribution. Not only does it show that people can live in peace, but it offers time-tested and essential elements for building up the human community: participation, respect for persons, meaningful work, and a revolutionary monastic economics.

Participation

Constitutive of Benedictine life is the principle that each person has a voice and vote in setting policy, and a commitment to contribute to the common good. Therefore, Benedictines participate in building community; we are not bystanders. Thus we are able to model and teach a people that they need to participate in decisions affecting their lives, that they need to be in control of their individual and national destinies. As Benedictines, we take a personal responsibility for the shaping of human community. This Benedictine posture was evident through centuries of disease, poverty and public calamity. Intervening to assert the right of all to share in the wealth of God's creation, monasteries organized relief before state agencies existed. During the time of usurious lending, Benedictines established a system of monastic mortgages with loans at reasonable rates and gave interest-free loans to aid victims of natural catastrophe. Hospitality extended to nobles, prisoners, indigents, social outcasts, and slaves.

In addition, monastic communities used their intellectual, spiritual and artistic gifts for the benefit of society. They were influential in the development of civil and ecclesiastical law, in the preservation and handing on of the medical tradition of the classical world, in the growth of art and architecture, and in the progress of education and culture through schools, libraries and scriptoria. Furthermore, they engaged in direct social action for the relief of the oppressed by becoming attorneys to defend the poor; emancipating slaves; feeding, clothing and freeing prisoners; and accepting responsibility for justice in prisons.

Today, can others see reflected in our lifestyle a concern for the shaping of human community, belief that people make a difference, that we are not pawns being moved by political and economic systems over which we have no control? To effect such an outcome, we need to be actively involved in the great issues of our day.

Respect for Persons

Benedict brought together slaves and free, Romans and foreigners. He wrote in bold letters across the pages of history that every human being is sacred, that each has a right to develop to full potential. Contemporary society bombards us with a different message whenever some are sacrificed to such values as profit, convenience, security, power, materialism, status. How can monastic communities confront this blatant attack on Christianity's basic principle of personhood? It would be in the spirit of Benedict to begin building human communities where life along its entire continuum is protected and revered, where those of differing races and religions--rich, poor, marginal and handicapped--could all live together as sisters and brothers. This would be the clearest statement that all are priceless in the eyes of the Creator.

Perhaps such a radical statement is not yet possible; if not, let us seek other ways to demonstrate our solidarity with people denied the status of persons. For some, this may involve living in those neighborhoods where unwanted minorities are; for others, it could mean becoming advocates for the disenfranchised. For all of us, it demands the adoption of less affluent lifestyles and other forms of participation in social justice efforts organized by and for those who are oppressed.

Whatever the level of our participation, the rationale must be clear. What we have been given by a gracious God is meant for all. To do justice is to work that all people be given their due; that every human being have access to what is needed for full human development. Justice is not a mere offer of bread, but the enactment and enforcement of laws guaranteeing everyone a fair portion of the fruits of the earth. The just realize that if it is wrong to take another's goods or clothing, there is a yet deeper wrong in failing to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. Justice can require risking one's comfort, reputation, even life, so that someday there may be a more equitable social order. Stewardship becomes a call to end injustice.

Another facet of the struggle for human dignity, and one which strikes an intimate chord in communities of Benedictine women, is the women's movement. Even though we have received many professional opportunities unavailable to other women, we too are conscious of oppression and rejection in a male-dominated society and church. Any spiritual gifts, organizational and leadership skills or communication techniques that we possess must be used to improve the status of women everywhere. Moreover, the type of church in miniature that we are should speak courageously about the ways women can function fully in the larger church.

Meaningful Work

Benedictines support themselves by the work of their hands. Work is seen as a share in the creative activity of God, and each member of the community is expected to make some contribution to the common good. This contribution results from the recognition and development of each person's talents. In addition, leisure is regarded as essential to contemplation and personal growth.

Technological society regards work as a burden and assumes that the less time spent in work, the greater is one's happiness. It matters not what work we do or how we do it--just get the job done. The reason for work is profit, so the criteria of a good job are excellent pay, short hours, social status and power. Certain types of work, usually those that involve no manual labor, are more significant, more prestigious than others.

This contrasts sharply with the monastic view of work, which holds that we find self-fulfillment in the value of the work itself. As workers, we put our personal stamp on creation and we are accountable for it. Not only should our work be done with care, but it ought to produce life-giving goods and services that are needed by others.

From the sixth to the twelfth centuries, the Christian philosophy of work inspired monastic institutions to develop model farm systems, to create centers of commerce and domanial industry, and to be highly influential in the evolution of law, medicine, education and the arts.

The monastic innovations in agriculture during the medieval period enabled the recovery of unused lands to feed a growing population. They also improved the working conditions and economic opportunities of the neighboring peasants. Shops built for artisans in the monastic compounds of England, France, and Germany made possible the growth of domanial industry and gave a livelihood to cobblers, carpenters, furniture makers, and workers in iron and wool. By caring for the building and repair of roads, bridges, and ships, monasteries facilitated commerce seriously blocked by invasions and government breakdown. In all these endeavors, monastic institutions were a major stabilizing force and effectively organized material resources for the development of a more humane world.

A tradition so imbued with the dignity of human labor has much to offer for a contemporary theology of work. Others must see reflected in our communities and our relations with our employees both justice and concern. Certainly we must stand in solidarity with the poor who can find no employment or are given dehumanizing work. At the same time, we offer and exemplify an alternative for employed people who often find their work monotonous and meaningless. More alternatives can emerge only if we initiate experiments applying the Benedictine philosophy of work to conditions today.

Monastic Economics

The Rule of Benedict offers an excellent blueprint for Christian economic style without, however, addressing the issues directly. What evolved in monastic rhythm of work, prayer, and leisure was an answer to a contemporary question: what does it mean to have enough? (10)

In Benedictine communities, the purpose of work is not unlimited productivity and profit, but providing service for others, opportunity for personal development, and a simple mode of life. The daily schedule is based on the assumption that with sufficient ingenuity, group effort, and self-sacrifice, a community's income will reach a level of sufficiency. In his monastic rule, Benedict cautions against wastefulness (31:1), eating too much (39:7), or drinking to excess (40:6). He tells his followers not to worry about their clothing (55:7) and not to be greedy, but to sell their goods at comparatively low prices (57:8). If members have more than they need, they are to distribute it to the poor (55:9).

For the Benedictine, then, ownership is always in a community context. Christian community is the refusal to be dominated by things in order to be open to those with whom we live and to have care for the poor. It is not the lack of possessions itself that shapes the Benedictine living of poverty, but the common life, the sharing of spiritual and material goods out of abundance or scarcity, so that the accumulation of possessions cannot form a bulwark against the neighbor. Instead, all is available to others for the sake of the kingdom. Poverty is for community; it is an eschatological witness.


THE TIME IS NOW

The Benedictine value system is directly contrary to the mechanistic attitudes of the post-industrial world. The monastic community, then, has the opportunity to be an articulate, authentic witness of conscious commitment in the midst of massive unconcern or wearying helplessness. Basic to the Benedictine spirit and tradition are: