Most folks know how to open a door, you’d think. But seeing it as particularly important you dedicate chapter 66 of your Rule to this vital task. It’s not just any old door. It’s the door to the community, after all.
The door to Bromfield Gatehouse, Shropshire, which was one the gateway to a Benedictine community.
This week, walking in Suffolk, I saw lots of doors and I heard or read about others. The way we open our doors says a great deal about who we are and who we follow. I find it particularly interesting when the door officer (you call them Porter) charged with the initial hospitality of the community, are those who were previously welcomed in and who now slam similar doors in the faces of others. That’s not the Rule, and indeed there’s no excuse for ignorance, as you point out.
Door, from the beach at Aldeburgh, Suffolk.
Another thing that happened this week was the leader of the Lay Community said how much I reminded him of Frank Skinner. In fact he sent me a copy of Frank’s book .
Frank about prayer…
Now Frank I and do have things in common. We both make jokes about Wolverhampton. But he supports West Brom and I support Spurs (in the nostalgic way one does remembering the glory days of the early 1960s). We also both pray and that’s what he writes about in his book.
He’s not the first comic from the Midlands I’ve been said to resemble. I was 18 when some other A Level students said I reminded them of Jasper Carrot (other comedians are available). I’ve always had an admiration for stand up and want to try it myself, up to a point. I do a brilliant one woman show that my husband is the one man audience for. But mostly I just keep walking.
Frank’s book reminded me of the many many ways we pray. I love Frank’s way of doing it. Some prayers are long and others are short but I think they are all honest. He says he prays like parking ‘You get as close as you can’. It’s a good aim; I’m not great at parking either. The book had me bubbling with laughter. I like to think God reacts to my prayers like that: the wordy ones with the wacky metaphors and the silent ones with the awesome views.
Prayer is a door thing. It’s about opening and for that we are each our own door opener, though one or more assistants may have been provided to get us started. Once we’re off it’s up to us. Like me, Frank uses a remembered bible. He returns to some bits more than once, like most remembered bible users, turning them over again, examining our own ignorance.
He considers the line ‘Hallowed be your name’ a few times. It is a puzzling one, well padded with ignorance. I look into the night sky and I’m humbled by all the names I don’t know. I imagine anyone who attempts any name for God in whatever circumstances scores at least a point for trying, even if it doesn’t seem so promising a start to the Prayer Police. Like Frank, the God I pray with is open to offers; friendship, love…
And so back to the door to the community. On the news a woman in Aberdeen gave a home to a family from Afghanistan. She opened the door and they went in. I wept and I’m sure many others did too. Of course there will be other people needing houses in Aberdeen. But this open door is just a start. Consider who you are and who you follow. Just open the flipping door.
Door at Leiston Abbey, Suffolk
From my remembered bible: I stand at the door…
Help me to open doors.
From A Friend of Scholastic and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.
We’re still in lockdown in England which limits how far we can go. The wanderer in me is frustrated so I wander in other ways, up and down local footpaths looking for frogspawn and other signs of Spring, across social media looking for posts about these things. Of course I’d love to be out there and I’d particularly like to be out there in Bambi.
Bambi in a car park
Bambi is my small ageing campervan, but it is also my oratory, not that I knew what that was before becoming a Lay Benedictine. Vocabulary is just one of the ways in which groups create their own language known only to insiders. We all need to watch that.
Anyway, back to Bambi, the Mobile Chapel of St Scholastica. It is currently unfortunately still under winter wraps. But to have a place to pray was a long held yearning for me. Fortunately, I had my own room when I was growing up and could arrange it to my preference. Searching for places to pray is part of my life long journey, one I very much enjoy as some of the most unexpected places can turn into a oratory, or prayer place.
Hermit’s Ledge, a prayer place in Longdendale.
‘Simply go in’ to that place, you write in chapter 52, whether mobile or not, roofed or roofless. It’s good to have a space that we set aside for worship and the continuance of our relationship with God. I’m pleased to have found some lovely ones here and there. At the moment the ledge on the edge of the valley serves this purpose well, opening up as it does onto the side of the reservoir at the end of the Longdedale Valley. Many moods may be encountered here and once in a while the whole place opens up as a wide reflective mirror. I call that the Mighty Blue.
The Mighty Blue: reflection at Bottoms Reservoir in Longdendale.
It’s an awesome sight and it has been one of my mainstays over this third lockdown. A place of extremes, where great and small things meet in the eye of God. About 400 yards from my house it is a fitting oratory for the days when I am less mobile.May you know such a place.
From my remembered bible: Keep me as the apple of your eye, shelter me with your wings.
God is eye to eye with me.
From a Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.
Another break from Letters to Benedict to post some O antiphons.
Traditional O Antiphons begin on 17th December but you can easily start a bit earlier by making up your own. Here’s a few to give you some ideas, based on my recent observations.
O heater of chestnuts
Thank you Jesus, that you feed us.
O sitter in doorways
Disturb us, homeless Jesus.
O sun dancer
From the margins of the cosmos, come and dance with us Jesus.
O morning blackbird
Come to your broken world, Jesus.
I’ve also written some short prayers to accompany the traditional Os. Here they are.
This isn’t a long letter. This is to commend you for your advice in Chapter 20 to keep our prayers ‘short and pure’.
I’m in favour of that. I’ve sat through far too many long and tedious prayers in my time, designed, it would appear to make the pray-er look good rather than anything else.
Of course, sometimes, in anguish or anxiety, our prayers may become stretched out. God sits with us.
We may wonder what short prayers could accomplish but remember we are not trying to ‘change God’s mind’ as much as join God’s team. Joining for a short time whenever we may gives God joy: the Holy One is happy to see us show up.
As for pure; just pray. Try not to get it mixed up with other stuff; and make it wholehearted.
From the remembered gospel: Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God!
Here I am, wholeheartedly!
From A Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.
I’m writing to you again, this time about chapter 16 of the Rule, where you urge monastic communities to follow a pattern of prayer each day. It reminded me of George Herbert’s words: Seven whole days, not one in seven, I will praise thee.
The tradition I grew up in met once a week, the one day in seven. At first hearing about it worshipping seven days in seven seemed a lot. Then multiply that by the seven times a day that you advocate, it added up to the ‘Pray at all times’ which was the bible verse I chose for my own confession of faith.
In my early forays into Benedictine life the small hours during the day were delightful and I still love them as a template. The community is involved in a complex dance: together, apart, together, apart, together again. Worship, work, worship, work and worship again: the signs and sounds that we encounter in work are bought with us into worship.
Working as a school chaplain for some time, I found the rhythm of school life was similar. In between the formal chapel services I would often walk around corridors or sports fields with my prayers. So praying comes at many different times; in the queue at the shops, in the car, on the bus. The community around me will not be made up of the same people but common concerns arise.
Take hunger for example. Which of us enjoys beings hungry? It’s a big topic in our COVID19: who is hungry and who is not? Who has the power to feed the hungry and who actually does it? I’m not hungry and have been fortunate never to have been hungry. This does not mean I don’t believe others may be hungry or that somehow being hungry must be their fault. A hungry person needs food: simple really.
Jesus did not say: When I was hungry you had a debate in Parliament about me.
Of course, I could go as far as Helder Camara and ask why the hungry poor are poor in the first place, but that it seems would make me political and once again religious people in 21st century Britain are not supposed to be political. I wonder if those who say this really think this through. I am human, I am political. Being part of any community is a political act, it signifies with whom I am in solidarity, with whom I am in touch.
Seven whole days, not one in seven, feed the hungry. Seven times a day, pray as a community. Seven just means a lot, all of the time, continually. I know why the poor are poor. It is because the rich are rich. If your way of keeping away from hunger yourself is to hoard wealth then the poor will likely continue poor and hungry.
From the remembered gospel: Jesus said ‘When I was hungry you gave me something to eat’.
A prayer before meals: For what we are about to waste may we be truly regretful.
From and Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.
Yes, I’m still awake. Of course, I understand that my version of prayer at night is not like the Night Office you describe. I rarely leave my bed let alone pick up a book. I rely on my remembered bible and psalm snippets rather than full passages of text. Each of us has a way that works and my husband tells me that, yes, he sometimes prays at night too.
Today my friend in Korea asked me to pray, yesterday it was my friend in Kenya, a few days ago a friend in Uganda. Alongside that are many concerns of people I don’t know, particularly during this Pandemic, as well as quite a lot I don’t agree with: it’s quite a community.
One of the things I do is try to visualise the person or situation I’m praying about in order to sort of take myself there and be alongside them in solidarity. So I imagine the place or space where I saw these people or a photo of them if I can. There are psalm snippets which help me like Psalm 100: All people who live on earth. I don’t sing aloud (so as not to wake my companion) but I do sing in my head. Some nights, it’s all I can do.
From a remembered psalm: All you people living on earth, sing cheerfully to God.
I‘m still awake.
From a Friend of Scholastica and Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.
I’m skipping out a bit here, that I’ll come back to later (chapters 2-7) to arrive at chapter 8. One of the gifts of Benedictine spirituality to me is the practice of prayer at night. I was doing it before I met any Benedictines, but the affirmation of night prayer has been a real encouragement. So I’ve moved on to this bit about prayer at night, partly due to current context: the increase in restrictions about COVID19 and the accompanying increase in anxieties of all sorts.
As a child I was afraid of the dark and so I began to pray at night to allay my fears. It seemed the natural thing to do. If I woke up then God was there. This has continued all my life. I would wake often in the later stages of my pregnancy, which is not unusual: I’d pray. In ministry there were wakeful nights: I’d pray. When my mother died and I was mourning, I’d often be awake at night: I’d pray. So too in this Pandemic: I pray.
During the day I often collect up lots of prayer requests and notions. During the night is when I pray many of them. It may not be the complex formula of the night office you describe but it is prayer that rolls unstopping around the world. You liked structure and thought it helped community life, so your words about the night office reflect that. Whatever we face the underlying thought is the same: God hears us at night.
And so I’ve prayed at night in many places: in hospital, at home, in a tent, on a boat, on a train, for example. There are lots more places I’ve not prayed in yet, but who knows? What I do know is that many other people will have found the same thing and this does make a community of sorts, if not the same kind of community that the Rule is about.
At this time high levels of COVID19 infections are driving anxieties of all kinds in all places. It’s not that surprising and neither is it surprising that sleep eludes us. Night prayer is a gift to us all at the moment. I urge anyone who has not already done so to try it.
From some remembered psalms:
The Unsleeping One keeps watch….
Day and night are both alike to God….
Help me to keep watch and pray.
From a Friend of Scholastica and a Member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.
Another note from me about you Rule, from someone trying to live ordinarily in the 21st century. I say ordinarily because I don’t live in a monastic community, although I have visited a few. I try to live as a Lay Benedictine, mindful of the legacy of Benedictine spirituality of which the Rule is the foundation. Like others on the Benedictine way I open the Rule. There’s quite a few translations out there. Attempts to help others like me find their way through what is quite a long document. And I’m sure other means of access are now available like podcasts, apps and so on. But some bits of me are quite old fashioned so I write letters.
Because it’s quite long, most writers break it down into shorter sections. I use the shortest sections possible: one word or short phrase. This is because I’m mindful that ordinary 21st century people prefer to keep things short. So yesterday I wrote to you about one word: ‘Listen’. Today I’ve chosen a short phrase from the second section of the prologue which I translate as ‘Pray first’.
Prayer is still a widespread thing. Research shows that even people who don’t believe in God may pray. Prayer has many layers, both simple and complex a bit like a quilt (I love to make quilts). I don’t remember exactly when I first prayed though I must have been quite young. I haven’t stopped yet although my prayers have changed. So ‘Pray first’ makes sense to me. Whatever you do. ‘Pray first’.
As an adult most of my life has followed that pattern, at home, in my profession as a speech therapist, in my ministry as a school chaplain, prayer was always there first. Nowadays I’m not doing lots of thing. In quiet COVID19 days, inside and out, as I write and sew and walk and cook, almost like a mini-monastery, I pray first.
At different times in my life I’ve used different forms of prayer. I welcomed the rhythm of Benedictine prayer when I first encountered it in a monastic community as a young adult. At different times in our lives different styles and manner of prayer may emerge to nurture us and challenge us.
When I set off on my End to End walk last year (see https://foowr.org.uk/lejogblog/) I didn’t know how I would pray but walking and prayer can work well together. I still do that most days.
You end this section of the Prologue with a word about angry parents. One of the limitations of seeing God as parent is that we may shut ourselves into an image that restricts our range of experiences of God. ‘Angry parent’ may be something we’ve experienced and yet it’s hardly the beginning and end all of God. Although Heavenly Father was a Christian revolution in prayer it was not suggested to limit prayer. In order to really understand Heavenly Father we may even have to leave the idea gently aside for a bit and by coming round by another route, find through new images and relationships, a renewed expansion of what the original idea could mean. Thus the mighty Oak is the parent of the acorn, the Albatross lays the egg, and the mountain crumbles into pebbles, but they do not look alike.
From Psalm 121: Look at the hills; the work of the unsleeping One.
Here I am, praying….
From a Friend of Scholastica, and a member of the Lay Community of St Benedict.
