A Personal Rule of Life

Imagine, for a moment, a monastery. It is built by a large pond, where an elder monk is headed to obtain a fish for a special meal. He brings with him a novice, and gives the novice the task of catching the fish. With no fishing line or tools, the novice looks into the water, and seeing the silvery gleam of a fish, plunges his hand in to grab it. But to no avail--the fish easily slips away. After several more lunges, soaking wet, the novice fashions himself a spear from a stick. But repeated jabs at fish around the edges of the pond yield nothing. Finally, the novice gives up, exhausted. He then watches with dismay as the elder monk gently lifts a rope from the water, which had been there all the time, pulling up a large, old crate into which several fish had swum. After selecting one, saying a blessing over the fish and putting it into a bucket, the monk lets the rest go. “I found some time ago that I could never catch fish by expending ever more effort at catching fish,” says the monk lovingly. “It was necessary to observe the lake carefully until it taught me how to let the fish catch me.”

How often do we feel like that novice trying to catch a fish, running around frantically grabbing and jabbing and still finding that the peace and happiness, money or love, or whatever other things we may be seeking so often slip away from us? Perhaps we are overlooking a better way. If I imagine the monastery in this story and let my mind follow the monk back inside, I picture a place that is quiet and simple, disciplined and deeply reflective. What a contrast with modern life full of e-mail and text messages, traffic jams, bills to pay, and fifty-eight items on the to-do list. A weekend away sounds nice, but not enough to pull the pieces of life together. We have a yearning for something deeper, more meaningful.

Now in truth, I have little desire to join a monastery. I love life with my family, I want to be actively involved in the issues of the world, and I’m glad there are dishwashers and movies and chair lifts and plenty of other things you probably wouldn’t find in a monastery. But there are real people who devote all their years to monastic life, and I wonder, is there anything we could learn from them that would make life for the rest of us a little more sane?

A college professor my wife Ruth and I knew, named Patrick Henry, was the editor of the book our reading came from today, called Benedict’s Dharma. “Benedict” as in St. Benedict, founder of the Benedictine monastic order one and a half thousand years ago, during the decline of the Roman Empire. “Dharma” as in the teachings of the Buddha, stretching back a thousand years before Benedict. The book contains the reflections of four contemporary Buddhists (one from Naropa University in Boulder). These commentators compare Buddhist monastic traditions with the Rule of St. Benedict, a 73-chapter guide for monastic life. It turns out there are many similarities in Buddhist and Benedictine monastic life, from disciplines of study and work to a distrust of empty words. There are similarities in the guidelines for clothing and in the rules for community life.

The traditions have differences, too, of course. The book contains a translation of the Rule of St. Benedict, and some of it certainly grates against my beliefs and sensibilities. The concept of hell, the requirement of total obedience to the abbot or abbess, the use of corporal punishment, excommunication, the all-seeing, judging God--these are very foreign to me, as to many Buddhists and most Unitarian Universalists. We value freedom, individual rights, and the questioning mind, not rigid rules and rituals.

And yet, if I let myself see past the barriers of language, there are other things to be found in the Rule of St. Benedict. The Buddhist commentators were impressed by St. Benedict’s emphasis on moderation and flexibility in many of the rules, on generosity and hospitality to visitors, and on compassion, especially to the elderly, the sick, and children. The Rule also lifts up freedom, but a somewhat different kind of freedom. Not a freedom to do whatever we feel like, but freedom for something deeper than the habits and distractions that bind or consume us.

In our own principles and purposes, we affirm a free and responsible search for truth and meaning. Freedom is a core value of Unitarian Universalism, but it is linked to responsibility--responsibility both to others and to our own best selves. True freedom is rarely just a matter of no rules and no constraints. To be free to play a musical instrument well or to speak a new language fluently requires years of practice. To be free to play almost any game requires knowledge of and willingness to follow its rules. Good relationships require time and effort, self-knowledge, and mutual respect. The freedom of scientific inquiry requires rigorous adherence to scientific methods and principles. Rules are important for the freedom of driving, skiing or mountain biking. Even to be free to fish well and actually catch something requires patience and discipline. The idea behind a rule of life is supposed to be something that makes us free, free from unnecessary suffering and aimlessness or bondage, free for a life of meaning and joy. In his Prologue to the Rule, St. Benedict asks this question: “Who is there with a love of true life and a longing for days of real fulfillment?” (p. 143) It is freedom for this that he seeks to achieve.

The Benedictine Rule of Life is designed for a monastery, but we can choose to create a rule of life for ourselves. A rule of life has more than one part, starting with a statement of purpose or principle, as St. Benedict starts with his prologue. We might describe a purpose for life such as: “To celebrate and enjoy life to the fullest” (which is harder to do than it sounds), “To grow all my life in truth and love”, “To create beauty” or “To make the world a better place than if I were not here.” We may include principles that we want to guide our decisions, such as honesty, generosity, justice, or any of the seven Unitarian Universalist principles that we want to make our own. We might include more specific goals for our health or careers or family or learning.

After that, a rule of life includes details about how we plan to live--about patterns of work, relationship, fun and recreation, study, or even time set aside for nothing at all. We may adopt rules for what we eat or how we spend money, for what we want to teach our children as they grow, for relationship with other people and work for social justice, for arranging our physical surroundings, or for organizing our lives. These more detailed rules should never be arbitrary or motivated only by guilt--they should be designed to help us fulfill our deepest purpose and chosen goals. The ultimate goal is still freedom, not bondage. Since there is always much about life that we cannot predict or control, there is always a need for flexibility, openness to change and spontaneity. At the same time, a rule that we don’t take seriously will not accomplish much.

To create a rule of life for ourselves, a beginning point, and perhaps an ending point, too, may be found in observation and awareness. Awareness is a central concept in Buddhism, and it’s relevant to Benedictine life, too. In her introduction to the Rule, Sister Mary Margaret Funk says that when she reads St. Benedict, “I hear him telling me to ‘Wake up!’” (p. 131) We can start by seeking to be more aware of what we already do. We may think we don’t like rules and rituals, but the truth is that we already have them. There are things we do every day, from choosing our clothes to brushing our teeth. There are principles that guide our decisions, whether we are aware of them or not. Ask yourself, what really motivates you? What are the habits and patterns of your life? Practically speaking, you have a rule of life--but is it what you intend? As we become more aware of what we do, of the forces and desires that drive us and of the yearnings that remain unfulfilled, we can begin to shape our lives in ways that are more fulfilling and less wasteful of life energy. If we can cultivate it, awareness alone can solve many problems, as in the story of the novice at the monastery pond, who only needed to stop and notice the rope to achieve his mission.

Along with awareness must come something else, and that is self-acceptance--deep love and acceptance of ourselves as we are, even in our lack of awareness. One of the reasons deep awareness can be so difficult is that it includes awareness of the things that are harder to accept about ourselves--our shadow sides, our habits and our mistakes, as well as our natural limitations and difficult life circumstances. That awareness can be painful, so it is hard to sustain. It might seem logical that growth would begin by being dissatisfied with ourselves, but I would argue that acceptance of ourselves must come first, or else we will not see. A truthful and humble acceptance, to be sure, but never one lacking in love. I don’t think it is a mistake that our third Unitarian Universalist principle combines acceptance and spiritual growth. We can only start where we are, and that’s OK. As we deepen our acceptance and awareness, we begin to hear the deeper yearnings below the surface of our lives, beyond the clamor of our immediate desires and distractions. We can then begin to develop new patterns and make intentional choices that respond to those deeper yearnings. Guilt can be a useful signal sometimes, but spiritual and life disciplines will never work if that is all that drives them. How many guilt-induced resolutions have you ever really kept? We can only follow a rule of life if we understand that it will help us reach what we truly want and need, which perhaps can be achieved no other way.

Following a rule of life can help us fulfill deeper desires, but still, the process is not mainly a matter of grasping and achieving--a great deal of it is about letting go. St. Benedict might say it is about letting go of whatever separates us from divine love. His Buddhist commentators might say that it is about letting go of desire or of the idea that there is a self to yearn or desire in the first place. Humanists might say it is about letting go of whatever keeps us from our human potential. Fulfilling our deepest yearnings is a mysterious combination of seeking and letting go, a process that may lead us ultimately beyond yearning itself.

Now, all of this–growing in awareness, establishing an intentional rule of life, learning to let go– all of this is easier said than done. I know it’s hard for me. Life at home with two growing boys is rarely peaceful or serene, and my wife and I juggle work in two churches. It’s a struggle at times to resist escapism or accumulation of junk, or to follow the patterns we desire for family meals and the sacredness of time together. A rule of life just doesn’t work as another item on a to-do list: Get groceries (check), attend SRC meeting (check), grow by Friday evening in awareness, discipline and self-acceptance (hmm). It’s really about a way of life.

At home, we have begun to accept that creating an effective rule of life for ourselves is a never-ending process. We set aside a retreat day each month, mostly for the purpose of reviewing our rule of life. We do our best with family dinners, and we do watch less TV, not out of guilt, but because we’re doing other things. As we develop and re-develop disciplines around handling paper, using money, dividing chores, caring for our bodies, and setting aside time for reflection and for work in the community, we begin to see, definitely not perfection, but a genuine difference. When we arrived in Denver five years ago, my wife aimed to organize her work around three principles: Awareness, Intentionality and Responsibility. She called her consulting work “AIR Consulting” based on that acronym. But those same principles have ended up being very important in our personal lives.

To the extent that we have tried to follow a personal rule of life, the result has not been predictable or boring. We were surprised to discover that a rule of life could lead to great upheaval. Growing awareness, both personal and about the wider world, can lead to making new choices, from using time differently to living greener, for example. Our previous rule-of-life work actually contributed to our decision to change careers and move across the country with no guarantee of jobs when we arrived. A rule of life is not about a rigid life. As the reading described, the root of the word “rule” means “trellis”--it is an open framework upon which we can climb, but no one can predict exactly which way we will grow.

I’ve spoken of a personal rule of life, but the concept usually works best in relationship to other people, whether in a family, church, or other group. It is difficult to follow a rule of life without some accountability to others. The rules of monastic life are community rules, and one of their central purposes is to guide how members of a community live with each other. For example, St. Benedict gave some of his strongest warnings not about personal failings, open disagreement, or even doctrinal heresy, but against what he called “murmuring”–the undercurrent of grumbling and indirect complaining that can poison any community. JUC’s community rule of life includes our principles and also our covenant of right relationship, meant not only for meetings but for all the ways we interact. Even so, it is not so much the rules themselves that are essential as the spirit they embody, and our willingness both to strive to follow them and to forgive each other when we fail. Following a rule of life can have a positive ripple effect on the people around us. It can also help give us the power to transform the wider world in which we live, as we become more aware of its needs and more able to act with compassion, responsibility and intentionality.

In the end, I don’t want to over-idealize the concept of monastic rule or rule of life in general. It remains true that there are parts of St. Benedict’s Rule and of his theology that probably none of us could swallow, and even a Buddhist monastery would not be any easier for most of us. Still, I’m glad the experience of such long-term discipline exists in the world, and I believe there is wisdom to be learned from Benedictine as well as Buddhist monastic life, beginning with the very concept of having a rule of life. It is up to each of us to ask what kind of rule of life we truly want, and to shape our lives accordingly. In the process, we may find ourselves freed from the trap of expending ever more effort grasping at our desires, only to watch satisfaction slip away. Instead, we may learn how to let happiness and peace, meaning and fulfillment swim gently into our lives and catch us.

May it be so.

Reference:
Benedict’s Dharma: Buddhists Reflect on the Rule of Saint Benedict. Norman Fischer, Joseph Goldstein, Judith Simmer-Brown, Yifa. Patrick Henry, ed. Riverhead Books, New York, 2001.