Among the few serious complaints I have about monastic life, there’s this: the schedule is horribly inefficient. Consider that we drop what we’re doing, several times a day, to go and pray. Consider that, depending on our jobs, we change into and out of our habits several times a day. Consider that, during some of the most productive stretches of the day, we stop everything so that we can dine together, recreate together, and squeeze in spiritual reading and reflection. What was Saint Benedict thinking when he organized this life? How did he expect anyone to get anything done?
I’ve always cherished the strong work ethic that I inherited from my parents. I’ve derived a lot of personal satisfaction from it, and because of it I’ve compiled a decent record of modest accomplishment. Still, over the years I’ve come to appreciate the value of balance, even if it does eat into productive work time. I’ve even accepted the possibility that there may be more to life than a full schedule — as much as I hate to admit it.
As you might expect, of all the alternatives to work, it’s leisure that troubles me most. I know I’m not alone in this. I know too that I’m not the only one who is driven to cram activity into each and every moment of my day. And I know I’m not unique in my suspicion that leisure is a personal indulgence, especially when there’s so much to be done.
You can imagine my unease, then, when I read this: “The Benedictine vocation includes within its integrity an attraction to leisure….” Who says so? So writes Michael Casey, a Trappist from an abbey in the wilds of Australia. He’s widely revered for his wisdom and insight into life, and not just monastic life. Despite that, quite naturally my first impulse was to dismiss out of hand his comment on leisure. After all, what else is there to do in the Australian wilderness anyway, other than to wait for the next sunrise? But of course life there is much like life everywhere, and Casey is as busy as the rest of us. So I have to give his words their due, even if I prefer to imagine monastic life as one long work period.
Actually, Casey’s chapter on leisure in his book Strangers to the City makes a lot of sense, whether you’re a monk or not. He argues, for starters, that leisure is not idleness. Nor is it escapism. Nor is it an indifference to the world around us. Rather, leisure is a conversation with life. Leisure involves climbing out of our self-enclosed existence so that we can listen to what people have to say, and be open to the lessons that life has to teach. True leisure, in other words, is an activity in which we learn that we are not the measure of all things, nor are we the center of the universe. Believe it or not, there are other people out there.
Casey goes on to note that leisure, in and of itself, is value-neutral. But when we make time for leisure and use it well, it opens us up to growth. Perhaps that’s why Saint Benedict begins his Rule with the invitation to Listen. Listen thoughtfully to our brothers and sisters. Listen to the sacred reading we do. Listen and pay attention to God as God appears regularly in the people around us. But the only way in which we can listen is to make room for leisure in our lives. So it is that in the monastic tradition we speak of Holy Leisure, because it’s sacred and it’s transformative.
Given all that, it helps to explain why Saint Benedict breaks up our day so inefficiently. Left to my own devices, I’d keep my nose to the grindstone morning, noon and night — and I’d call it good. But I’d likely live in oblivion to what’s going on around me. I’d miss God present in the people and events around me. At best, life would be white noise or muzak as I meandered on about my own business. No wonder that Saint Benedict deliberately yanks us from this self-absorbed little world.
Now that we’ve reached Memorial Day, what are my summer resolutions? For one thing, I’m going to listen intently to some music, for the sole purpose of hearing what the composer and musicians have to say. I’m going to visit an art gallery or two, just to see how a few artists view life. I’m going to make more time for reading, just to find out if there are people out there who see life differently than I. I’m going to pay attention to my confreres and friends, if for no other reason than to savor the wisdom that God has imparted to them.
In short, I’ve decided that this summer I will try to experience life as more than one extended stretch of white noise. And who knows? If it works out, and I do hear something useful, then I might very well engage in some holy leisure even after Labor Day lowers the curtain on summer.
+On May 19th-20th I took part in the meetings of the Board of Trustees of Saint John’s University. On the evening of the 19th the Trustees joined the monastic community for dinner in the abbey refectory.
+On May 19th, between sessions of the meetings of the Trustees, I rushed to the other side of campus to speak to a group of faculty and staff from Concordia University in Saint Paul. They were at Saint John’s to participate in a day-long workshop on The Saint John’s Bible.
+On May 21st I attended the dedication of the new entry hall at Visitation School in Mendota Heights, MN.
+On May 22nd I spoke on “Leisure in the Monastic Tradition” to the members of the Benedictine Volunteer Corps at Saint John’s. For two weeks the twenty-two members are on retreat before heading off to year-long assignments at Benedictine abbeys across the world. All are 2014 graduates of Saint John’s University, and this is the largest such group of volunteers that we’ve ever sponsored.
+This last week, and for a while to come, the monks have moved out of the refectory, while its ceiling is being repaired and a few of the frescoes are being retouched. In the interim, we are taking our meals in the basement recreation room of the monastery. It’s tight, but the confined space builds community!
+While I was in Paris recently I had the chance to visit several churches that were new to me, if not to the Parisians. Among the most impressive was that of Saint Eustace. Built in the 16th and 17th centuries, it served the center of Paris, including Les Halles, for long the chief market of the city. One is oblivious to the huge Metro station below; while the church itself is an island of tranquility. Inside of the church is a wonderful sculpture that depicts the former market.