Some thoughts on the Life and Miracles of our Father St.

Benedict
Part Twenty-six

How God provided 200 sacks of flour

Jerome Machar, O.C.S.O.

As we have seen, one of the abbot's tasks is to find the sort of labor
appropriate to the capacity of each; but this takes it for granted that each
member of the community needs to be active in the common work of the
community, even if they are unwell or not particularly competent (chapter 48).
Similarly, 'no-one will be excused from kitchen service unless he is sick or
engaged in some important business of the monastery' (chapter 35). The
monastery both demands from each a positive and distinctive share in sustaining
its life, and gives to each the dignity of responsibility for that life, in every prosaic
detail. This cannot be a community in which some live at the expense of others,
or in which some are regarded as having nothing to offer and are mere
pensioners or objects of charity. The apportioning of work is a sign of just that
'listening' to the need of each member to be taken seriously that is at the heart of
Benedict's understanding of authority. If , as was suggested earlier, work is the
sustaining of a properly human and intelligent corporate ecology, it is not only in
creating the material conditions for this but in the very fact of work being
understood as a matter of shared dignity or creativity.
This morning I would like to a tale relating how divine providence cared for
the needs of the monastic community during a famine that broke out in the region
of Campania around the years 537-538.

At another time, a severe famine in the region of Campania.

Everyone in the region was afflicted by the scarcity of food. The
scarcity of food also affected Benedict’s monastery where the entire
grain supply had been consumed. Their bread supplies were also
nearly spent. When the community gathered for their meal, only five
loaves of bread could be found to set before them. When the man
of God noticed how downcast they were he gently reproached them
for their lack of trust in God's loving providence. At the same time,
he tried to raise their drooping spirits with words of comforting
assurance. ‘Why are you so downcast? Why is your soul depressed
at the lack of bread? Granted, today there is only a little bread, but
tomorrow there will be plenty.’

The next day about two hundred bushels of grain were found in
sacks just outside the monastery gate. No one ever discovered how
it got there. When the monks saw all that God had done for them,
they were filled with gratitude. From this they learned that they must
not lose faith in the bounteous providence of God.

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In her novel, The Master of Hestviken, Sigred Undset describes the mindset of a
young man who, after leading a life of license and profligacy decides to join a
religious order. “Eirik threw himself down before the crucifix. His state of mind
was that of a man who has lost his way in bogs and wastes and suddenly comes
upon a firm path – he prayed as a man astray hurries toward the haunts of men.
It seemed to him almost a miracle – never before in all his days has he thought
for a single instant of entering a convent – and the longer he prayed, the more
clearly he seemed to see the path before him and the lighter it grew about him”
(Master, pg. 779). It is interesting to read how the heroes of faith faced times of
deprivation and want. It is one thing to profess the vow of poverty. It is quite
another to have want and need thrust upon you.
The Code of Canon Law presents Christ as the model for all who embrace
voluntary poverty. "The Evangelical counsel of poverty in imitation of Christ who,
although he was rich became poor for us, entails, besides a life which is poor in
fact and in spirit, a life of labor lived in moderation and foreign to earthly riches, a
dependence and a limitation in the use and disposition of goods according to the
norm of the proper law of each institute" (Canon 600). Jesus, though He was
God, chose to empty Himself of all power and majesty to become subject to His
Father's will (cf. Phil. 2). In joy and companionship, in pain and suffering, in life
and death, Jesus learned obedience (cf. Heb. 2: 10).
Because the evangelical counsels are interpreted for us by our
Constitutions, we should be familiar with the proper law of the Order. "Following
the example of the fathers of Citeaux, who sought an uncomplicated
relationship with the God of simplicity, the brother's life style is to be plain
and frugal. Everything in the household of God should be appropriate to
monastic life and avoid excess so that its very simplicity can be instructive for
all. This is to be clearly apparent in buildings and their furnishings, in food and
clothing and even in the celebration of the liturgy" (CST. 27). As monks, we
should not only “think” poverty but also “live” it. Quoting again from our
Constitutions, "The quietness of mind cultivated by silence is also the fruit of
purity and simplicity of heart. For this reason the monk, in a spirit of joyful
penitence, is to embrace willingly those means practiced in the Order: work, the
hidden life and voluntary poverty, together with vigils and fasting" (Cst. 25).
As Cistercian monks, we should strive after simplicity of heart and try to
avoid all forms of affluence. A person is happy when he possesses something
that is worthwhile. A person is very happy when he knows his inner poverty and
yet he possesses something precious. By God’s grace we finite human beings
possess Infinite truth. Recall these words of St. Paul. “We have this treasure in
jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us” (2
Cor. 4:7). The vow of poverty enables us to make room for the infinite, or to be
more accurate, for the overflow of God’s infinite love – the superfluous. It is
superfluity that gives insight and wonder to our lives. Let me quote David Steindl-
Rast. "The word affluence suggests that whatever flows in never comes out. Our
affluent society stays affluent by making the containers bigger when they are just
about to overflow, like a fountain with its lovely veils of water spilling over. The
economics of affluence demand that things that were special for us last year

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must now be taken for granted; so the container gets bigger, and the joy of
overflowing, gratefulness, is taken away from us. But if we make the vessel
smaller and smaller by reducing our needs, then the overflowing comes sooner
and with it the joy of gratefulness. It's the overflow [superfluous] that sparkles in
the sun" (Music of Silence, 26). Even small and inconsequential things can
become sacraments of God’s love for us. Perhaps, this is why St. Benedict wrote
this instruction for the cellarer. "[The cellarer] will regard all utensils and goods of
the monastery as sacred vessels of the altar, aware that nothing is to be
neglected" (RB 31.10-11).
There is more to the vow of poverty than asking the superior permission to
use or buy things. There should be a certain degree of deprivation, of doing
without, as well as a spirit of detachment. Perhaps, we may have to revisit the
mentality behind the reform of LaTrappe. Such a study, which I am not prepared
to undertake myself, would give us access to both sources of our Order, Citeaux
and LaTrappe which distinguishes us as the Strict Observance. One must
carefully distinguish between “nice” and “necessary”. While making sure to avoid
scrupulosity, it is necessary that each of us reflect on that which is essential for
our life. In a word, if it is not necessary, it is a luxury. Luxuries are not consistent
with Evangelical Poverty, to say nothing of Cistercian simplicity or Trappist
austerity.
According to the letter of the Law, the vow of poverty is principally
concerned with the personal disposition and acquisition of goods without the
express permission of the proper superior. However, it would be inaccurate to
suppose that this is the full intent of the vow, especially when taken within the
context of Conversatio Morum. The overarching purpose of the consecrated life
is to free the individual to ponder God's Word and to carry out God's will in all
things.
The purpose of religious vows is to minimize the impediments to one’s
complete conformity to Christ and total dependence on God’s loving providence.
Evangelical poverty is intended to detach the religious from all bondage to
material things. This detachment should free the individual to recognize the
various expressions of God's loving kindness. Detachment is the habitual
attitude by which one requests, uses and cares for material things, not because
they have monetary value, but because they are sacraments of God’s love for us,
which are also needed for life, for one's personal spiritual growth, and for the
work of the community.
The discipline of asking for permission is intended to help the individual
acquire a degree of detachment. However, it does not guarantee its acquisition. It
should be axiomatic that evangelical poverty is efficacious only if it effects a spirit
of detachment in the heart of the individual. If the individual is not striving for
detachment, evangelical poverty contributes very little to one's religious life.
Poverty is effective to the degree that it produces real detachment from material
things, produces virtues of trust, patience, meekness, humility, and a spirit of
mortification.
The external observance that does not cultivate an interior disposition of
detachment is pure illusion. We can store up for ourselves a private stash, having

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gotten all the necessary permissions, fearing that we might not have something
that might be useful at some future date, or to compensate for someone else's
wastefulness. Such behavior may actually camouflage a spirit of greed and self-
sufficiency. A room filled with clutter, in the name of avoiding waste or preserving
something that might be useful is not in the spirit of the vow of Poverty. It is
possible to break one’s vows in the name of conservation! Hording, by any other
name, is still hording.
Religious poverty goes beyond the renunciation of all property rights. A
person living the consecrated life also elects to exercise a preferential option
towards the poor. The individual is to share the lot of the poor. Like the poor, he is
to engage in fruitful labor so as to provide for his needs and for the needs of the
poor who come to the gate to seek aid. Hence religious who are strictly regular
about asking permissions but live as comfortable, well-to-do people among the
poor are a scandal.
One needs to look at his compulsion for security and his fear of
deprivation. Take this in the sense of disordered need, the insecurity and anxiety
that come from having to made do without certain things. This is generally
related to the condition of real poverty. Here, it is important to keep in mind that
the distinction between excess and necessity is often blurred.
Something else to be considered is the fear of boredom and the fear of
interior solitude. One of the greatest sources of anxiety is the fear of being left to
ourselves, alone and without comfort or diversion. However, this interior poverty
is an essential element of the contemplative life.
Another aspect of Cistercian Poverty should be considered. It is the fear of
overexertion at work, or the concern that one’s occupation might become a
distraction, which will upset his prayer life. This is an illusion, possibly a
temptation against the vow. It does not follow that state-of-the-art machinery will
make life easier and, therefore, more prayerful. We need to wrestle with the
temptation to buy gadgets under the guise of improving our workspace in the
hope that such improvements could improve the quality of our prayer life.
Thomas Merton surfaced the question decades ago. If our poverty is to be real,
we must continue to wrestle with it.
An inordinate desire for security and comfort can actually destroy our
capacity to make progress in the spiritual life. The need to have things can
handicap or impede our capacity to give of ourselves, which is essential to
Christian charity. This sense of neediness can enslave us to things that are
outside or beneath us. We can become dependent on things or on our own
ability to acquire them and not on the providence of God. Possessions can
alienate us from ourselves, from other people, and, eventually, from God.
As poor disciples of the poor Christ, we should strive to reduce our
material needs and to be satisfied with less. We should strive to do without
certain modern means of living so as to acquire for ourselves the soul of the
poor. No doubt, evangelical poverty will entail some annoyances and privations.
However these will lead to interior joy and spiritual freedom. Abraham Heschel
wrote, "Our ultimate hope has no specific content. Our hope is God. We trust that
He will not desert those who trust in Him."

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 Pondering the anecdote about the lack of bread caused by the famine that
afflicted Campania we need not look for some deep psychological message. The
story is simple. Famine grips the region and the monks are as hungry as their
neighbors. Like anyone who is hungry, they begin to fret and even to whine about
their desperate state. Being a compassionate father, Saint Benedict tries to
console them with the news that they will have all they need to stay alive on the
morrow, but they will have to trust in God's loving providence. Sure enough, the
next day, two hundred sacks of grain are left at the gate of the monastery by
some anonymous donor. This brings to mind two passages from the letters of St.
Paul. The first is taken from the Second letter to the Corinthians. “But what
anyone dares to boast of (I am speaking in foolishness) I also dare. Are they
Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they descendants of
Abraham? So am I. Are they ministers of Christ? (I am talking like an insane
person.) I am still more, with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, far
worse beatings, and numerous brushes with death. Five times at the hands of
the Jews I received forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods,
once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I passed a night and a day on
the deep; on frequent journeys, in dangers from rivers, dangers from robbers,
dangers from my own race, dangers from Gentiles, dangers in the city, dangers
in the wilderness, dangers at sea, dangers among false brothers; in toil and
hardship, through many sleepless nights, through hunger and thirst, through
frequent fasting, through cold and exposure. And apart from these things, there
is the daily pressure upon me of my anxiety for all the churches. Who is weak,
and I am not weak? Who is led to sin, and I am not indignant? If I must boast, I
will boast of the things that show my weakness. The God and Father of the Lord
Jesus knows, he who is blessed forever, that I do not lie” (2 Cor. 11:21-12:1). We
suffer want and hunger so as to identify with the poor who have no options but to
suffer.
The second Pauline passage is taken from the letter to the Philippians. “I
have learned, in whatever situation I find myself, to be self-sufficient. I know
indeed how to live in humble circumstances; I know also how to live with
abundance. In every circumstance and in all things I have learned the secret of
being well fed and of going hungry, of living in abundance and of being in need. I
have the strength for everything through him who empowers me. Still, it was kind
of you to share in my distress” (Phil. 4: 11-14). One must learn to be thankful
when one has abundance and to hopeful when one is in want.
Monastic life is a simple, essential type of life. There can be no doubt that
everything that is simply essential is permanent, universal, and therefore
pertinent for us today, not with the novelty of the “latest news,” but with an
urgency based on history.
The foundation of Christian monasticism is none other than Christ himself.
Nothing is to be preferred to his love, because he died and rose again for me and
for all. The “radical texts,” which point out the road on which to follow him, are
also necessary and trustworthy guides for us. They all lead to the same root:
dying in order to live, recognizing the gift we have received so as to turn it into a
gift we offer. For the person who lives this way, all our life with its joys and

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sorrows becomes beatitude. Those who live like this dwell in the heart of the
Church and become that heart.
The fundamentals of the monastic program offered by St. Benedict in his
Rule consists in the sincere search for God by means of prayer and renunciation,
a search which is authenticated by zeal for the Opus Dei, for obedience and for
trials. At the end of his Rule, Benedict wanted to emphasize and condense what
is present in all of it, like its soul, namely the burning love which leads to God
through communion with one’s brothers and sisters.
The first Cistercians said this in a few words by simply wanting to keep the
Rule in all that it demands and to follow it according to the purity of its
observances. The purity of the Rule’s observances is what essentially makes it
what it is, namely, a practical, monastic form of living the Gospel. Thanks to the
wisdom of its balanced alternation of the traditional monastic exercitia, the Rule
offered a straight way of evangelical perfection to our first Fathers. The dura et
aspera and the observances are useful intermediaries for arriving at purity of
heart and contemplative quies or union with God.
And besides what I have just said, the medieval Cistercian monks and
nuns also offer us a deep experience and reflection on the sacrament of the
Eucharist. What they wrote with love, they lived with passion. The Eucharist is
the sacrament of the Spouse’s self-surrender. So it is not strange that some
writers describe the Eucharist with the symbol of an embrace and a kiss. It is
especially the nuns who cry out, “Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth!” In
any case, without the Eucharist there is no communion and no Christian
community.