We can all recognize the distinction between the four different kinds of monk. First of all there are the cenobites. These are the ones who are based in a monastery and fulfill their service of the Lord under a rule and an abbot.

Anchorites, who are also known as hermits, are the second kind. Their vocation is not the result of the first fervor so often experienced by those who give themselves to a monastic way of life. On the contrary they have learnt well from everyday experience with the support of many others in a community how to fight against the devil. Thus they are well trained in the ranks of their brethren before they have the confidence to do without that support and venture into single combat in the desert relying only on their own arms and the help of God in their battle against the evil temptations of body and mind.

Sarabaites are the third kind of monk and the example they give of monasticism is appalling. They have been through no period of trial under a Rule with the experienced guidance of a teacher, which might have proved them as gold is proved in a furnace. On the contrary they are as malleable as lead and their standards are still those of the secular world, so that it is clear to everyone that their tonsure is alie before God himself. They go around in twos or threes, or even singly, resting in sheepfolds which are not those of the Lord, but which they make to suit themselves. For a rule of life they have only the satisfaction of their own desires. Any precept they think up for themselves and then decide to adopt they do not hesitate to call holy. Anything they dislike they consider inadmissable.

Finally those called gyrovagues are the fourth kind of monk. They spend their whole life going round one province after another enjoying the hospitality for three or four days at a time of any sort of monastic cell or community. They are always on the move; they never settle to put down the roots of stability; it is their own wills that they serve as they seek the satisfaction of their own gross appetites. They are in every way worse than the sarabaites.

About the wretched way of life that all these so-called monks pursue it is better to keep silence than to speak. Let us leave them to themselves and turn to the strongest kind, the cenobites, so that with the Lord's help we may consider the regulation of their way of life.

Comment

Adapted from Esther de Waal's A Life-Giving Way:

It is possible to read this chapter as giving a picture of the strengths and weaknesses that Benedict found in the monasticism of his time. But I can also approach it at another level and see in it differing approaches to Christian discipleship. In that case I find a yardstick, as it were, to consider differing approaches to my own discipleship, perhaps at successive times in my life, which I can either embrace or reject.

Benedict starts with what he most approves, the cenobites, those living in community. The Rule is about living with others and its demands. There is no escaping this. We are all social beings and we are all part of this inter-connectedness. But for some there may come a time when they leave this shared life and go out to live alone, the life of the hermit, the solitary.

He never romanticizes or pretends that things are going to be easy. It is no bad thing to be reminded of the idea of spiritual warfare, for it will prevent any illusions about just how tough the fight against evil is bound to be. The battle goes on both with the body and the mind. It is useful to put this into the biblical context and to recognize that Benedict is not speaking of a dualistic division of body and soul as the Greeks might. Throughout the Rule, Benedict is always taking us away from the dualism that would oppose the material and the spiritual.

When Benedict speaks of self-reliance, he will probably touch many people who find themselves living the solitary life, and not necessarily by choice. Because of old age and the greater length of life, or because of the break-up of marriage, financial failure, economic dislocation, more and more people are alone today. It is then, above all, that we need to hear this assurance that we can stand on our own feet, yet also simultaneously be reminded that we can do nothing without God's help.

We don't meet many "sarabaites" today, yet it is all too easy to claim that a way of life is the Lord's when in fact it is for one's own interest or convenience. If I put my own self-interest first and make that my point of reference, then I am living a life entirely in relation to self. That means that I have neither rule nor teacher as a touchstone and therefore that I lack the humility to turn to the handed-down tradition of lived-out experience of others.

Finally, Benedict looks at the life of the gyrovagues and paints a vivid picture of people who drift aimlessly, never settle down, live off others. Ultimately this is running away from commitment. One of the foundations of the Benedictine life is stability, which involves not simply remaining in one place but a deeper stability, the stability of a mind that stays still and does not endlessly search, constantly switching form one thing to another, hoping for something new or better somewhere else. Benedict has no illusions about the damage that this can do. Today when there is so much on offer, so much to read, so many alternative spiritualities, therapies, self-help manuals, we could all very easily spend our time drifting from one to the other, picking and choosing what appeals and, whenever anything becomes too demanding, moving on to something new. I know only too well from my own experience that a life without boundaries can never become a life that is constructive, creative, or life-giving.

But Benedict does not want to spend any more time on such people. Instead he is anxious to set out on his task of drawing up a plan, with the help of the Lord, to explore this Rule that is written "for the strong kind."

Response