Benedict directs that, “During these days, therefore, we will add to the usual measure of our service something by way of private prayer and abstinence from food or drink.” This monastic community takes this directive very seriously. Each monk is obligated to present to the superior a list of his anticipated Lenten observances. The Rule sets forth that, “Everyone should, however, make known to the abbot what he intends to do, since it ought to be done with his prayer and approval. Whatever is undertaken without the permission of the spiritual father will be reckoned as presumption and vainglory, not deserving a reward. Therefore, everything must be done with the abbot’s approval.” For the Lenten season, monks are to take on some practice of prayer, fasting, and spiritual reading. The list presented to the superior is to reflect the spiritual reading he intends to do, the additional prayer practice he will take on, and the fasting he will practice. The monk may also note additional devotions or good works he plans to incorporate. Here too, the superior is directed by the Rule to assess these practices. The monk might list a spiritual classic to read; he may schedule in some time specifically for meditation; he may restrict his consumption of food in some way. All of these practices, Benedict indicates, are about spiritual conversion and an authentic life of the spirit, in a dedication to “prayer with tears, to reading, to compunction of heart and self-denial.”
 
There is more, however. The season also provides an opportunity for a kind of self-accounting. And this quite literally: an annual accounting of all of one’s personal possessions. Benedict is rigorous in his demand that monks rid themselves of the attachment to worldly possessions, and directs the superior to enforce this actively. Chapter 33 lays down the law concerning private possessions: “Above all, this evil practice must be uprooted and removed from the monastery. We mean that without an order from the abbot, no one may presume to give, receive or retain anything as his own, nothing at all–not a book, writing tablets or stylus–in short, not a single item, especially since monks may not have the free disposal even of their own bodies and wills. For their needs, they are to look to the father of the monastery, and are not allowed anything which the abbot has not given or permitted.” As Lent approaches, each monk must take stock of what he considers to be his own. Each monk presents to the superior his list of possessions. These may include such items as a piece of furniture or a painting, posters or other items in their rooms or even made available in common areas.  These might include books, religious statues, clothing, music recordings: anything to which he might attach the adjective “mine.” The listing becomes a kind of economic “examination of conscience,” directed to the possession of things. And the superior thus acts as a spiritual director, helping the monk to assess the significance of these possessions to their monastic simplicity. These practices are all set in the context of a liturgical season of penance, highlighted in Mass readings, in antiphons of the divine office, in simpler music, in a spirit of renewal. This, as Columba Marmion indicates, to draw into relief the path of the monk – the “monos” of singular and simple unity with God, that nothing produce a hindrance along that path, that one’s entire life is so directed by the search for God.
 
So, is all of this solely for the monk? It is surely for all, as the U.S Bishops tell the whole faithful: “During Lent, we are asked to devote ourselves to seeking the Lord in prayer and reading Scripture, to service by giving alms, and to practice self-control through fasting. Many know of the tradition of abstaining from meat on Fridays during Lent, but we are also called to practice self-discipline and fast in other ways throughout the season. …In addition, the giving of alms is one way to share God's gifts – not only through the distribution of money, but through the sharing of our time and talents” (See their website). So, as the Lenten season arrives, with Ash Wednesday this February 26, we may each consider our own personal lists: how we might commit time to reading, to prayer, to service; how we might set aside some things, or consider how we are putting our own possessions to use. Then we might see more clearly what we truly need to take with us on our path toward Easter. We need not worry about being Lenten experts to heed Benedict’s advice: “Are you hastening toward your heavenly home? Then with Christ’s help, keep this little rule that we have written for beginners.”

From "Thoughts in Solitude" (1958)
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that, if I do this,
You will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore I will trust you always
though I may seem to be lost
and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
 

“Let the eyes fast from curiosity. Let the ears fast in not heeding vain words or anything unnecessary for the soul’s salvation. Let the tongue fast from defamation and gossip, from vain and useless words. Let the hand fast from idleness and unnecessary busyness. Let the soul fast even more from all vices and sins, and from imposing its will and judgments. For without such fasting, all other fasting is rejected by God.” (from a Lenten homily)
 

Take notice of the fact that, as soon as the devil left Jesus, Angels came and ministered unto Him. Thereby we are given to understand that there are two natures in Jesus Christ. By the temptation of the devil we know that He was true Man, whilst the coming of the Angels and their ministering to Him, teach us that He is also true God. Let us, then, recognize our own nature in our Savior, for the devil would not have dared to tempt Him, had he not perceived in Him our humanity. At the same time we bring Him our adorations, for the Angels would not have considered it their duty to minister unto Him, were He not as God exalted over them and all creatures. This Gospel, calling to our mind the forty days and forty nights of fasting spent by our Lord in the desert, entirely agrees with the fast we observe during this holy season. But why was this number of forty days fasting sanctified? We read in the history of the Israelites that Moses prepared himself for the reception of the Law by fasting forty days; that Elias observed the same fast; that Jesus, before beginning His public life, abstained from food for forty days and forty nights; and lastly, that we also, as far as lies in us, observe this abstinence and fasting during the time of Lent. Though several motives may be set forth to explain this law of the Church, we can say in all truth that, by observing this commandment, we offer to God the tenth part of the year granted to us for satisfying our corporeal necessities. After living solely for ourselves during the course of the year, we now in Lent live for God, offering Him by our abstinence a part of that year. (from a Lenten homily)

The Church has always found a certain wisdom in Gregorian chant. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal: “The main place should be given, all things being equal, to Gregorian chant, as being proper to the Roman Liturgy.” Many have sung the praises of this manner of singing the praises. James Senson, music director at St. John the Beloved, says Gregorian chant has grown in popularity because it is, “so much a part of the Church. It’s the text of the Church.” Joel Morehouse even argues that chant embodies the three evangelical counsels: “Gregorian chant draws its beauty and practical strengths from three memorable characteristics: chastity, poverty, and obedience. Gregorian music is pure, chaste melody, with no underlying harmony or accompaniment necessary. As such, one person or ten thousand can perform it with ease. Gregorian music takes the vow of poverty: it uses a comfortably limited range of notes. It requires no expensive instruments or expensive copyrighted sheet music; it requires only the willing voice and a photocopier (all Gregorian music is in the public domain). Finally, Gregorian music is obedient to the sacred text.” Pope Saint Pius X also found three principal qualities in it: sacredness, beauty, and universality (Tra le sollecitudini). This mode of wisdom is, of course, well rooted in Benedictine tradition: even its name is associated with our own monastic patron, Gregory the Great.

Jouques. The presence of chant in popular culture has ebbed and flowed. Rolling Stone magazine ran a piece last year looking back at the “Chant-Mania” inspired by the monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. Their “classic” album entitled “Chant” was released in March 1994, spending over a full year in Billboard’s Top 200. You can listen to a sample here. In recent days, to lift our spirits for Holy Week, the Benedictine nuns of the Abbey of Notre-Dame de Fidélité de Jouques, a convent in Aix-en-Provence, Southern France, released 7000 hours of their chant, available on YouTube or on their own website. (YouTube links: Wednesday of Holy Week; Maundy Thursday; Good Friday; Holy Saturday and Easter Vigil; Easter Sunday). While the pandemic has forced the community to close their Abbey church to outsiders, they have released six days of their chant for free to mark the holy days. Madoc Cairns, reporting for The Tablet, describes the non-invasive recording project that has been ongoing over the past several years. John Anderson, an American musician now living in Italy, conceived of the project after visiting his aunt who had entered the convent. He was able to devise a system using wireless and “cloud” technology to produce the audio recordings remotely, without needing to be physically present. The nuns could simple push a button to record before their prayers, and to stop after leaving the choir. The product is a realistic availability of their practice of the Divine Office and other liturgical celebrations. A Web application for their chant will be launched over the summer, with the entire project scheduled to be completed in 2022.

Benedicta. When the album recorded by the monks of Norcia “hit the charts,” some were stunned to see it sit for six weeks at “#1” on Billboard’s “classical/traditional” list. In a 2015 interview for “Religion and Ethics Newsweekly,” Prior Cassian of Norcia was asked to interpret the success of his community’s album. “There’s a hunger for something more,” he said. While monastic communities live and breathe such musical prayer, for many it is extraordinary and revelatory. The chanting of the hours, “as essential to monks as their daily bread,” is “a way of expressing our love for God.” This manifestation of love through music reveals a “physical way, not just an intellectual way” to devote oneself to the Divine Wisdom. “Benedicta” producer Christopher Alder, appreciative of his work on the project, noted that the music “has something eternal to it” (watch the Religion and Ethics Newsweekly report). The Norcia community has produced a number of videos on its community life, such as a reflective piece on the production of Benedicta, and a moving response to the devastating earthquake that hit the region in 2016. The theme of perseverance underlying this latter video surely resonates with the hardships of our present pandemic. And the dedication to prayerful chant again reminds us, as Prior Cassian has noted, that “for the world, the ordinary chants that we sing everyday are an extraordinary window onto transcendence.” One beautiful example is found in this track of “Virgo Serena.” (the lyrics are given below).

Portsmouth. Our own abbey maintains its devotion to chant, both from the Graduale Romanum and in adapted English versions. While the School is in session as normal, the student Schola incorporates the learning of chant into its repertoire, integrating its liturgical music with that of the monastic community and enhancing some of our liturgical life. With distance learning in effect, recent efforts have made the monastic liturgies available online. Brother Joseph Biron and Father Edward Mazuski lead the monastic Schola, with Brother Benedict adding to the website special recordings of them singing two Latin hymns, Ave Maria and Gloria, laus et honor. For the time being, as the monks must persevere in their pandemic-imposed claustration, the chant is simpler, but no less prayerful. And, indeed, the prayer is the thing. Marie Pierik, standard-bearer for the value of chant in the twentieth century, who in her foundational book The Spirit of Chant, wants to “share the riches” of this tradition, also cautions us in our attitude towards it: “Let us then start on our way in quest of the holy that leads to the beautiful, and not run the risk of courting the perils which often beset the paths of those who would start with the beautiful to arrive at the holy. Let us with caution and reverence go in search of the Divine source of culture rather than be concerned as to whether we are gracing ourselves with ‘culture of the soul.’” One might say she expresses the desire to move from substance to form, and not be captivated in an idolatry of form or “culture.” Or more simply: it’s about the prayer, and not about the chant. May its profound wisdom inspire “an experience of serenity and peace, and the calming of agitation.”
 
Notes:

• Report from “Religion and Ethics Newsweekly” on Norcia (PBS;  August 3, 2015)
• Article in The Tablet on the nuns of Jouques
• Benedicta explanatory video
• Video on the impact of earthquake in Norcia  
• Blog article: “Will Gregorian Chant soon be the Rule Rather than the Exception?” (Angelus Press)
• Joel Morehouse, “Why Teach Gregorian Chant” (The Institute for Catholic Liberal Education)
• A brief history of Gregorian chant, America Magazine (March 7, 2018)

The 150 Psalms have been the prayer book of both Jews and Christians from their beginnings as peoples of faith and worship. We can surely affirm that Jesus himself used and prayed the Psalms during his mortal life—in synagogue or temple worship, at home, and in his own personal prayer. The old adage Lex orandi, lex credendi (the way of prayer is the way of belief) suggests how significant these 150 prayers have been in the formation of communities of believers. The Book of Psalms has provided words to bring meaning to people’s search for God in all of life’s circumstances: in fear or joy, struggle or hope, pain or praise, despair or thanksgiving. Though some of these texts have been in use for more than two millennia, the prayers of the Psalter still retain a freshness that enables them to speak with poignancy to each succeeding generation, drawing those who read them into the quest for the deepest purpose of human life: to abide in the presence of their God.

The Psalms, then, are the prayer book of the Bible. They express responses appropriate to every situation found on the pages of Sacred Scripture. One need merely look at the lectionary of the Church—or of the Synagogue, for that matter—to see this. In Christian congregations, after hearing and reflecting on the word of God proclaimed in the readings, we answer with the singing of a psalm: our response to the voice of God we have heard speaking to the Church. The words of the psalm echo the words of the reading, and then lift the heart in prayer. As God has spoken to the assembled congregation in the sacred word, so the people, through the psalm, respond to God. Such dialogue lies at the heart of each individual’s relationship with God. The Psalms have been an instrument of that dialogue for as long as they have been prayed by people of faith.
 
To the superlative status of the Psalms as the pinnacle of human literary expression, we may add the observation that the different genres or literary forms found in them give expression to both the wide-ranging life situations and the varying moods of the person of faith before God. The hymn lifts up praise to the God who has created the world and all its wonders. The lament brings before God the pain of alienation from God and neighbor, the struggle with doubts and fears, the anger that rises from disgrace and mistreatment, the fear of threatening illness and approaching death, the anguish of personal loss and a community’s demise. The thanksgiving reminds the community that gratitude must be given to God who hears and answers those in need. The wisdom psalms reflect the insight and spiritual understanding that leads to a life lived with faith, hope, and love.
 
At the beginning of many psalms, unfamiliar expressions like “A mitzmor of David, with instrumental music, on the gittith,” may sometimes be found. The names of Korah (Psalms 42, 44– 49) and Asaph (Psalm 50, 73–83), frequently attached to such expressions, identify two of the musical guilds of the Jerusalem Temple, where the Psalms were originally prayed. Many of these phrases tell us that the Psalms were intended to be sung, often with specified accompaniment. The Hebrew title for the Book of Psalms is Sepher Tehillim, which translates “A Book of Sung Praises,” further indicating the manner in which these prayers were to be rendered. Music clothes and elevates a text. It holds a special power to express what often cannot be accomplished in spoken words alone. It gives added expression that not only enhances the meaning but lifts the words to the level of inspiring prayer. This truth provides yet another insight into the profound and inspiring message of the Psalms. They were created to be sung, so as to give the words a second soul.
 
As songs of the early Church, the Psalms were not merely prayer, however; they were prophecy as well. In Luke’s account of the risen Christ appearing and speaking to his disciples in Jerusalem, the text reads, “[Jesus] said to them, ‘These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the law of Moses and in the prophets and psalms must be fulfilled.’ Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures” (Lk 24:44 NAB). The authors of the New Testament use the Psalms extensively to speak of the mystery of Christ as the Messiah, the Anointed One. For them, the Psalms held a key to understanding Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah. And as the early Church began to develop its liturgical year, annually celebrating the life, suffering, death, and resurrection of Christ, the messianic psalms played a substantial role in unfolding that great mystery of faith.

Dei Verbum speaks about the sacred liturgy nourishing the faithful “from the table of both the word of God and of the body of Christ.” Some of the earliest sources emphasize the place of distinction and devotion for the faithful the divine word holds. Nourishment comes from both tables, bringing divine life in a dynamic and graced way. In his Homilies on the Book of Exodus, Origen challenges us: “See whether or not you ‘conceive,’ that is, retain the words of God lest they slip from your hand and you lose them. I want to urge you to this by examples drawn from your religious practices. If you are habitually present at the divine mysteries, you know how carefully and respectfully you protect the Lord’s body when it is given to you, lest a fragment of it fall and a bit of the consecrated treasure be lost. You would think yourself guilty, and with good reason, if some of it were lost through your negligence. Now if you rightly take such precaution when it is a question of the Lord’s body, how can you think that neglect of God’s word will be less severely punished than neglect of his body?” Origen brings the “two tables” of the word and the Eucharist into a formative unity, both as essential sources of nourishment for the believer. Coupled with the fundamental idea of nourishment is a sense of devotion, honor, reverence, and respect that is due the word of God, in which Christ is present. Origen had a strong influence on St. Jerome, both theologically and rhetorically. We find a corresponding theological development in Jerome’s Tractate on Psalms 145 and 147. Commenting on Psalm 145:7, “It is he who gives bread to the hungry,” Jerome wrote the following: “‘He gives food to the hungry.’ Someone supposes that he says ‘heavenly bread’ in reference to the sacred mysteries. And we accept that indeed, because truly it is the flesh of Christ, truly it is the blood of Christ. Besides this let us say in other words, the bread of Christ and his flesh is the divine word and the heavenly teaching.” Then, commenting on Psalm 147:14, “He feeds you with finest wheat,” Jerome speaks in a similar vein in this context: “When the Lord says, ‘He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood,’ and although this can be understood in reference to the sacrament, nevertheless the word of the Scriptures is truly the body of Christ, and his blood, it is the divine teaching. If when we go to the sacred mysteries, the one who is faithful understands, if only a small particle [of the word] has fallen [into our hearing], we are in jeopardy. If when we hear the word of God, and the word of God, and the flesh of Christ and his blood, is poured into our hearing, and we are thinking about something else, into how great a danger are we running? ‘He feeds you with finest wheat.’ The divine word is most delicious, having in itself every delight. Whatever you have desired is born from the divine word.”
 
After explanation of the stages of lectio, meditation, oratio, and contemplatio, Fr. Polan concludes:
 
Though the practice of lectio divina comes from a monastic tradition, it is nevertheless a vehicle for all people of faith who acknowledge the power of God's word to touch their lives. This ancient practice of reading and praying from the Scriptures can be a means of entering more fully into the Sunday celebration of the Eucharist. Reflecting on the word each day, in preparation for Sunday, ushers the person into the dynamic mystery of the biblical text. By the daily reading of those chosen texts for Sunday, we prepare our heart to hear the word in the dynamic context of the Eucharistic Liturgy. Importantly, such an approach to the daily reading of the Scriptures grounds a person in a spirituality of the word, pointing toward the day of resurrection, preparing to celebrate the paschal mystery of Christ with the community of the faithful. Such a spirituality highlights the true nourishment that comes from the table of the Word and the table of the Body of the Risen Christ. So often we think of nourishment only in relation to eating and drinking. There is also the spiritual nourishment that comes to us through the word of God teaching, inspiring, guiding, consoling, and challenging us. In the course of the week the round of daily tasks calls us to enter life's struggles with faith and courage, with the word of God as our source of strength. Then it is to the Sunday celebration that we bring not only our deepened understanding of God's word, but also the actions, words, and deeds that have been formed and transformed by the power of the divine word. There we offer our sacrifice of thanksgiving, united to the One who is the source of all blessing and hope, Jesus Christ.

Education has, for centuries, been a part of Benedictine life. Today our schools include primary and secondary education, colleges and universities, and also seminaries where there are programs of priestly formation where future priests are prepared for the service of evangelization, celebration of the sacraments, and care for the many needs of the people of God. We have 191 schools in Africa, Asia, Europe, North American, Europe, Latin American and Oceania with approximately 180,000 students. In the context of Benedictine education, our history has emphasized not only the important of gaining information and knowledge, but also the necessity of growth in wisdom. So deeply rooted in the Biblical tradition, a love of learning must be connected to the search for God and spiritual wisdom in all things, in all places, and in all circumstances.
 
One of the things that is distinctive of Benedictine life is the manner in which we evangelize. For Jesuits, Franciscans, and Dominicans, they go out to the four corners of the earth to preach the Gospel. For Benedictines, we evangelize from the monastery, also those from the margins of the earth; many people come to us to find the silence, prayer, and peace of a monastery where they can listen carefully to the voice of God in their lives. That is why monasteries are such important places in our world. We are always there as places of prayer and community, as households of peace and welcome. Our vow of "stability" keeps us in the same place, always ready to welcome, to invite, and to serve. In our world of broken promises, alienation within families and among friends, injustice in the workplace, and broken dreams, monasteries provide a place for people to come, to hear God speak in the silence of their hearts, to lift up their hearts with the prayers and psalms in the liturgy, and to find hope in the message of the Gospel. We believe that our witness to "community life" is prophetic in a world where people are often alienated; we are men and women of different backgrounds, generations and personalities, yet we live in community to say to the world – we can all truly live in peace and charity. We believe that the service of hospitality given in monasteries today is one of our gifts to the Church and to the world. Moderation, balance and peace have been the hallmarks of Benedictine life for 1,500 years. We ask your blessing upon the works of our hands, our hearts and our very lives in the service of God and neighbor.