Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-9
James 1:17-27
In a story told by a rabbi, a well-renowned expert and teacher of the law was going to be
teaching in a nearby synagogue. When a devout Jewish scholar of the law heard this, he told
his community of scholars and practitioners, and they encouraged him to go. “Go and hear what he teaches, then come back and tell us.” So the man went. When he returned, the others asked him “Well, what did he say about the law?” And the man replied, “I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. I went to see how he ties his shoes.”
The man who went to see the famous rabbi was more interested in the rabbi’s actions than his words. In his experience of the law, he had learned that the real sign of God’s law of love taking root in a person was what they did. It was, and still is, easier to intellectually dissect the reasoning of religions and philosophies than it is to practice, to be vulnerable, to make mistakes, and to truly live it out.
A significant part of my own spiritual journey is learning about the Benedictine way of life. The Sisters of Erie, the nuns with whom I just spent a week of retreat, are Benedictine, which means that they follow the Rule of Benedict. Benedict of Nursia, a Roman Catholic Italian monk who lived in the sixth century, wrote the Rule to be a guide for monastic communities.
The Rule outlines a lifestyle based on God’s loving presence within all of creation and all people. The only stance a person can take knowing that all of creation is divine is one of complete hospitality, dignity, and wonder. The Benedictine lifestyle is centered around prayer and reflection that extends seamlessly into actions. The harshest words of the Rule are reserved for those who undermine the communal fabric of the group: like those who remain complacent about their life’s work and those who complain to others rather than bringing concerns directly to the leader.
It would be easy to dismiss a 6th century guide for running a monastery as irrelevant to us here in 2024. A separation of 1500 years is a long time, and many things have changed since then. What fascinated me about the Rule, though, is just how relevant and contemporary it is. Similar to other works of wisdom literature, much of the Rule feels eerily applicable to right now.
The Rule was written in a time of great cultural change: the Western Roman Empire collapsed near the end of the 5th century. Those who lived in 6th century Europe, like Benedict, lived in a time of fractured states and rulers constantly competing for territory. For average folks, living at or near subsistence and with little faith in their landlord rulers to protect them, it must have been a very anxious time. We also know, though, that times of confusion and upheaval can open the way to innovation and newness.
Enter Benedict’s Rule. He had witnessed the corrupting influences of greed, power, and
militarism. He had seen the way that these left the poor, the majority of society, starving and hopeless AND he had seen the way these twist and wound the souls of the powerful. So in the Rule there is no hierarchy by wealth or social position. Instead, seniority is only determined by the date at which one enters the community. The ritual for receiving people into the community was and is the same for the daughter of a day laborer as it was for the daughter of a Duke. The Rule takes beliefs and turns them into actions. If God loves everyone entirely and intrinsically and greed and power can easily corrupt, let’s provide for everyone’s needs and work for the good of the entire community.
For such an all-encompassing Rule, some parts seem very specific. For example, the first half of Chapter 66, “The Porter of the Monastery,” reads like this: “At the door of the monastery, place a sensible person who knows how to take a message and deliver a reply, and whose wisdom keeps them from roaming about. This porter will need a room near the entrance so that visitors will always find someone there to answer them. As soon as anyone knocks or a poor person calls out, the porter will reply, ‘Thanks be to God’ or ‘Your blessing, please,’ then, with all the gentleness that comes from reverence of God, provide a prompt answer with the warmth of love. Let the porter be given one of the younger members if help is needed.”
A whole half-chapter devoted to how to answer the door sounds a lot to me like the man who went to watch the rabbi tie his shoes, and it sounds a lot like our reading from James. The writer of James wrote around thirty years after the death and resurrection of Jesus, to gatherings of Jesus-followers in Palestine. Like Benedict, this writer was also writing in a tumultuous time of displacement and persecution for Jesus-followers.
In that chaotic time and when our own time feels chaotic the message is the same: “Be doers of the word, not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” Keep living the Jesus life even when it seems like it makes no difference, even when it gets hard, even when it brings you criticism or worse. The writer takes the hearers of his letter back to when they first felt the tug of “this perfect gift…coming down from the Father of lights.” Keep doing the things that reflect the life-changing, heart-opening love of God in the world, even when they seem small or insignificant. At the Community Supper, keep putting cookies in bags and washing dishes with the love of God. With the Wellspring singers, keep singing to cheer and soothe with the love of God. With the Parent Child Center, keep hauling chairs to the fundraiser. Keep answering the door with patience, diligence, and the love of God. Thanks be to God, amen.
Weybridge Congregational Church 