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St. Benedict

St. Benedict’s Life of Love and Freedom…And My Own Journey

St. Benedict lived in a cave in Subiaco, Italy, for three years, committing to detach from the world and be alone with God. The archetype of a monk is in each person, so we can look to St. Benedict as a spiritual role model.

As a Benedictine oblate, one strives to live as a monk in the world, in the everyday life of family, work, and community. Our longing to be alone with God requires time to listen to the voice of God in solitude—for prayer, silence, spiritual reading, contemplation, or retreat.

Every October, oblates of Christ the King Priory meet for an annual weekend retreat to renew their oblate promises, deepen their understanding of Benedictine spirituality, and enjoy each other’s company. This year our retreat leader was Abbot Mauritius Wilde, OSB PhD., former Prior of our monastery, Christ the King Priory. Abt. Mauritius is an author, lecturer, and spiritual director, and currently serves as abbot of Maria Laach Abbey in Glees, Germany. He guided our retreat based on his upcoming book, The Monk Within You, a perspective on the Life and Miracles of St. Benedict, Book II of the Dialogues written by Pope Gregory the Great.

During the Middle Ages, according to Benedictine historian Gregorio Penco, OSB, Life and Miracles of St. Benedict was the most widely read book after the Bible. The Monk Within You, a commentary by Mauritius Wilde, OSB, will be released by Liturgical Press in January, 2027.

During our monthly oblate meetings we practice Lectio Divina by reading an excerpt from The Rule of St. Benedict or scripture. Lectio Divina, translated as divine reading, is a Benedictine practice of seeking deeper meaning in words and stories. It is listening to what lies beneath the words. During our retreat, we were able to read more deeply the life and miracles of St. Benedict, listening to what the stories may mean for us today.

Detachment from the world, including one’s father, mother, culture, sexuality, church, and desire for power, is critical to becoming oneself. Fuga mundi, or flight from the world, allows one to encounter all that is happening within us in solitude. The first stories of Benedict begin with his departure from his studies in Rome, relinquishing the wealth of his family, detaching from his father, mother and nurse, and performing miracles. We go to our cave, as Benedict did, to learn what our attachments are. Ultimately, we realize there is no escaping the world. We bring it with us in our minds.

The monastic way is about letting go, attaching to less and less, so in the end I know there is God and me. We take this spiritual journey to become more Christlike, to gain an inner understanding of the mysteries we celebrate as our truth. This lifelong journey of surrendering attachments that St. Benedict models for us can bring tranquility and peace.

Some questions we considered during our retreat:

Who are your spiritual role models?

What might you need to detach from—mother, family, culture, church, sexual desires or power? When I think of these areas of detachment, what am I thankful for, what makes me angry or sad, what am I missing?

What little deaths, or detachments, have you experienced?

During retreat we had several sessions led by Abt. Mauritius, we prayed the Liturgy of the Hours, attended Mass, shared meals and discussions, had opportunity for confessions or spiritual direction, and renewed for oblate promises.

We had much joy and a lot of laughs taking selfies! I think selfies with others (is that an oxymoron?) capture joy, playfulness and community

Our 2026 group of oblates attending the retreat. Pictured in the chapel at St. Benedict Center.

Why not? Another selfie with the group!
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Rules of the Road: Benedictine Travel Tips

Where does a Benedictine go on vacation?

To the world’s oldest Benedictine monastery, founded by St. Benedict himself!

When I had the opportunity to travel to Italy with Benedictine Footprints, a contemplative, cultural, culinary retreat to lesser-known sacred sites led by Judith Valente, Benedictine oblate and writer, I knew I had to add a few days to the trip to visit Subiaco, Italy, the birthplace of Benedictine spirituality in the sixth century.

I had previously traveled on pilgrimages to Benedictine monasteries in Germany, where I met Fr. Jim Secora, a Catholic priest from Iowa. I was inspired by his homilies when he celebrated Mass, and delighted when he joined our oblate group. Jim had recently been to Subiaco to visit the ancient pilgrimage site, Sacred Speco, the cave where St. Benedict lived for three years, and to the Monastery of St. Scholastica, the only monastery left of the twelve Benedict founded.

Fr. Jim Secora and friends on the 2014 Benedictine Pilgrimage I participated in.

So, I asked Jim for his travel tips and advice. He replied by quoting the Rule of St. Benedict—

Jodi, You and Pope Leo visiting Subiaco in the same year!!!

As for any “tips”, I would simply go back to the first line of the Prologue—”Listen, my son and daughter to these words of someone who loves you and attend to them with the ear of the heart.”

Practice good “visio divina”.  Drink in the beauty of the mountains, their shapes, their colors.  Listen to the stories of the frescoes. Pause in silence before the cave with the statue of St. Benedict, where he lived for three years. (Directly across the hall from the cave is the chapel where I celebrated Mass for our group.)  Let all of this speak to you, imprint itself on your heart.

This is the best advice I can give.  Well, don’t forget to stop at the gift shop and think of Bro. Andrew!!!! Peace, Jim

His advice was pure Benedictine, rules of the road so perfect that it brought a tear to my eye. It wasn’t about eating at a highly rated restaurant or ticking off sights on a packed itinerary. It was “Nothing harsh, nothing burdensome,” as Benedict wrote (Rule of St. Benedict, Prologue 46).

I promised I would be present and listen—the best advice for a Benedictine, for all of us, in all situations.

Many who visit Subiaco often make the 90-minute day trip from Rome, but Joanne, my travel companion, and I decided to stay in the village for two nights before we met up with the Benedictine Footprints group.

On our first day, we planned to explore the village on our own. This is where some tactical advice might have helped. Not one person spoke English, not even the lovely people who worked at Palazzo Moraschi, where we stayed. They tried so hard to communicate with us, getting a little louder and e-nun-ci-at-ing so carefully, and still, we could not speak Italian. And no matter how many times we repeated ourselves, they could not speak English.

But with Google Maps as our guide, I thought we could find our way around. We enjoyed the quaintness of the winding, centuries-old cobblestone paths, noting the lovely flower boxes; terraces with doors wide open, welcoming the breeze; artists capturing the shadows of sunset; quaint neighborhood chapels. But after a wrong left turn, Google Maps sent us onto a high-traffic road with no sidewalk, and into a part of town we didn’t know existed. (Note: when recalculating routes, Maps may convert from “walk” mode to “drive.” Not ideal.)

Despite the circuitous route we took to find a restaurant, we enjoyed the beauty of ancient Subiaco. For our first day, we had quite the workout going up and down these cobblestone streets.

As darkness descended and panic was just about to set in, a very kind woman named Benedetta (…the feminine name for Benedict, seriously!) asked if we needed help. She must have noticed the universal look of a lost face. No Italian needed for that. She was so generous with her time, walking with us to more familiar territory and even calling her daughter, who spoke English, to help translate. Their kindness was a blessing—and we were (absolutely) present for it. (Note: We had staked out a place to eat earlier and when it didn’t open at 7:00 as advertised, we went to find another. After our hour-long adventure, we arrived back at that very restaurant, open and serving diners. Apparently a 7:00 opening is just a possibility. It may open 10 or 30 minutes later, whenever the family running said restaurant is ready. This was helpful to know for dinner the next day.)

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Labyrinth as Pilgrimage and Prayer

Throughout history, pilgrims have sought an experience of the holy by visiting temples, shrines, cathedrals, monasteries, and other sacred sites. Some take lengthy journeys on foot, such as the famous Camino de Santiago (The Way of St. James) or the annual Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca, walking 10-20 miles a day.

By definition, a pilgrimage is a purposeful journey to a religious or sacred site, yet it is not necessary to travel a great distance, or walk many miles, to undertake one. Walking the path of a labyrinth is a symbolic representation of a spiritual pilgrimage, and one of many creative ways to pray.

 
Creighton University Retreat Center in Griswold, Iowa

The use of labyrinths for meditation and prayer dates back thousands of years. During the Middle Ages, labyrinths were abundant, as opportunities to travel to the Holy Land or other sacred sites were limited by war, poverty, and other constraints. They remain a contemporary spiritual practice for quieting the mind, letting go of our personal agendas or expectations, learning to trust, and seeking guidance from the Divine. Bringing one’s prayer to the labyrinth engages the mind, body, and spirit.

“The labyrinth is an archetype, a divine imprint, found in all religious traditions in various forms around the world…Walking the labyrinth is a spiritual discipline that invites us to trust the path, to surrender to the many turns our lives take, and to walk through the confusion, the fear, the anger, and grief that we cannot avoid experiencing as we live our earthly lives.”  Rev. Dr. Lauren Artress

A labyrinth is not a maze; there are no dead ends and no choices that need to be made. There is a clear design for a labyrinth with only one winding path to reach the center and the same path to walk from the center outwards, arriving where you had begun. There is no way to lose the path once one is on it.  

Often before starting a labyrinth walk, I offer an intention, ask a question, or prayerfully surrender a situation to the Divine. Sometimes I carry a SoulCollage® card that resonates. Because there is only one path inward, the mind can let go of when one will arrive at the center. It is a certainty that one will get there eventually. I practice trusting that wherever God takes me, in my mind and body, I must simply put one foot in front of the other. I can settle into knowing that Spirit is with me, accompanying me.

This walk, or journey inward, is a metaphor for life. So often we don’t know where we are headed, even with the best of plans or intentions. “Pilgrimage calls us to yield our own agendas and follow where we are being led,” writes Christine Valters Paintner in The Soul of a Pilgrim: Eight Practices for the Journey Within. With a labyrinth walk, one experiences letting go of a plan or agenda—surrendering and trusting that the center will be reached. 

Even with only one path, the route may still not be apparent. The appearance of a dead end becomes a switchback; the path continues inward. A labyrinth I walk often is at St. Benedict Center in Schuyler, Nebraska. It is modeled after the famous Cathedral of Chartres in France, which has eleven concentric circles divided into four quadrants. The path is clear from looking from higher ground, but as many times as I have walked it alone and with others, I find myself wondering if I somehow lost my way. Am I just walking in circles? Is this taking longer than it should?

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July 11–My Birthday & The Feast of St. Benedict

St. Benedict is pretty special to me for a few reasons.

July 11, the Feast of St. Benedict, is also my birthday. (And oops, I was having so much fun celebrating my 60th birthday that I forgot to share this post.) Although I could not be more delighted to have St. Benedict as my patron saint, I must admit that I was pretty disappointed when I first discovered it.

I believe in birthday weeks, celebrations, having fun, and the Rule of St. Benedict!

My parents had given me an illustrated book of the “Lives of the Saints” for my Confirmation. As any nine-year-old would do, I immediately looked to see who the saint was for July 11, my birthday. A lovely woman saint with a beautiful name, I had hoped. Perhaps Elizabeth or Mary, Theresa or Christine (my confirmation name) would be my special saint.

Instead, I saw an illustration of a man with a dark hood, a scary-looking bird, some sort of walking cane, and an unusual name that I had only associated with Benedict Arnold, a famous American traitor.

July 11, St. Benedict, Abbot, it said.

I had never heard of St. Benedict and surely did not know what an Abbot was. Through the years, I returned to these pages often, thinking that I should have some connection with this man, my patron saint.

Fast forward 26 years. Married, a mother of a seven-year-old daughter, a high school teacher, and a club sponsor, I had a full, busy, and satisfying life, yet also a longing for silence. An advertisement for a contemplative prayer retreat in our local newspaper caught my eye. It promised an “oasis of peace” at a retreat house in the cornfields of Nebraska called St. Benedict Center.

And then I remember St. Benedict. My saint.

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The Day St. Benedict Died

The day St. Benedict died, he was ready. 

In the Rule of St. Benedict, he instructs, “Keep death daily before your eyes” as a way of life. At the Abbey of Montecassino, where St. Benedict wrote his Rule for monks, there is a statue in the courtyard depicting the moment of St. Benedict’s death.

Montecassino Abbey, the statue depicts the passing of St. Benedict. Photo by Jodi Gehr, 2017.

On March 21, Benedictines around the world celebrate the “transitus,” St. Benedict’s passing from one state to the next, from death into life. Death is not seen as final, but rather a transition into eternity with God.

St. Gregory the Great writes about St. Benedict’s last days:

“Six days before he died, he gave orders for his tomb to be opened. Almost immediately, he was seized with a violent fever that rapidly wasted his remaining energy. Each day his condition grew worse until finally, on the sixth day, he had his disciples carry him into the chapel where he received the Body and Blood of our Lord to gain strength for his approaching end. Then, supporting his weakened body on the arms of his brethren, he stood with his hands raised to heaven and, as he prayed, breathed his last.” (St. Gregory the Great, Book Two of Dialogues, chapter 37).

The advice to keep death always in our minds is the core of being Benedictine and living soulfully. Perhaps this sounds morbid, but it encourages me to live each moment with wonder and gratitude, with purpose, on purpose, and to be attentive to the present moment.  Practicing gratitude, having no regrets, living with death daily before your eyes, as St. Benedict writes, and leaving something beautiful from a life well lived, help prepare us for a more peaceful transition from here to eternity. St. Benedict’s life and death are an exemplar for how we are to be Benedictine.

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How To Bear Discomfort Well

I do not bear discomfort well, I said, half-seriously, half-jokingly, to my son-in-law, John, the other day, as I took a little longer to get out of the car than the rest of the family. We both laughed as John noted that his wife shares this same trait at times. Like mother, like daughter.

It was a cold day in Nebraska, so we had to bundle up to go out, but once we were in the car, and the heat kicked in, I broke out into a sweat. Struggling in the back seat, off comes the coat. Two minutes later, we arrived at our destination. I wrestled my coat back on to re-enter the frigid temperatures. (An aside: Nebraska weather is a burden of extremes, from hot to cold. Our low temperature today is 12 degrees; on Saturday, 89 degrees is forecasted—how is one to cope?)

To add to my discomfort, several weeks ago, I sprained the peroneal tendons in my right foot. I will spare you the details, but it is reminiscent of the broken arm I experienced three years ago. Let’s just say—it adds to my discomfort, and I repeat, I don’t bear discomfort well. I feel a little guilty (and more discomfort) about admitting this out loud to John and writing it now. There are so many people suffering throughout the world—from war, displacement, poverty, hunger, trauma, poor health, grief, and every imaginable and unimaginable discomfort.

It is a lot for each of us to bear—our own discomfort and the wounds of the world that we also carry in our thoughts, physical bodies, emotional responses, and spirits. So much discomfort, uncertainty, ambiguity, and waiting can make us irritable and impatient—and there is so much to activate our discontent these days.

Recently, on my Being Benedictine Facebook page, I shared some wisdom from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Within 24 hours, the post had 130 times the average likes, comments, and views of a typical post.

This idea of waiting, and the discomfort that results, seems to resonate with many these days. It is increasingly challenging to “trust in the slow work of God,” and we need constant reminders that this is how we must cope.

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International Women’s Day & A Prayer of Longing

“Lord our God, hear my prayer, the prayer of my heart. Bless the largeness inside me, no matter how I fear it. Bless my reed pens and my inks. Bless the words I write. May they be beautiful in your sight. May they be visible to eyes not yet born. When I am dust, sing these words over my bones: she was a voice.” –Ana, The Book of Longings

In The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd, Ana writes this prayer of longing on the incantation bowl her aunt Yaltha has gifted her. 

“Do you know what an incantation bowl is?” Yaltha asked. “In Alexandria we women pray with them. We write our most secret prayer inside them…Every day we sign the prayer. As we do, we turn the bowl in slow circles and the words wriggle to life and spin off toward heaven.”

On International Women’s Day, we celebrate the social, economic, cultural, and political achievements of women. We honor the women who have a “secret prayer inside them” to improve the quality of life for women, to raise awareness of discriminatory treatment, and to seek inclusiveness and equality for future generations.

In The Book of Longings, Sue Monk Kidd, one of my favorite writers, shared that she wanted “to write a story that encouraged us to follow our longings and bring forth the largeness inside ourselves…to portray how much women’s voices and stories matter.”

Ana’s prayer of longing is to have a voice, to be heard, and truly listened to. Ana lives during the time of Jesus when women’s stories were not valued or heard, often intentionally silenced and oppressed. Like Ana, we long for our authentic selves to be seen and heard. When we are listened to, we know that we are loved.

“All my life, longings lived inside me, rising up like nocturnes to wail and sing through the night. That my husband bent his heart to mine on our thin straw mat and listened was the kindness I most loved in him. What he heard was my life begging to be born.”-Ana, The Book of Longings

Listening is an important theme in The Book of Longings. St. Benedict thought it was so important to listen that it is the first word in the Rule. “Listen carefully, my son, to the master’s instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart.” John McQuiston II, in Always We Begin Again, The Benedictine Way of Living, paraphrases, “Listen with the heart and mind.” These instructions to listen to God extend to the many ways God may speak to us—through our daily circumstances, unique situations, the people in our lives, and in our hearts and minds through the voice of truth within us.

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A Time to Wash Away: A Continuous Lent

February 2026 Oblate Reflections, Christ the King Priory, Schuyler, Nebraska

Theme: Love and Lent; Lectio Divina: Rule of St. Benedict: Chapter 49: Pictured above: The oldest copy of the Rule of Saint Benedict, from the eighth century.

Benedictine Sisters Benevolent Association, St. Scholastica Monastery, Copyrighted 1990. Meredith Schifsky, Calligrapher; Mary Charles McGough OSB, Illuminator

What is your first thought when you consider the season of Lent? Many of us think of giving up sweets, donating to good causes, reading spiritual books or devotions, or going to Mass daily or more often. St. Benedict devotes an entire chapter of The Rule to how monks should practice Lent. He instructs that “the life of a monk should be a continuous Lent.” As an oblate, or lay member of a Benedictine monastery, seeking to live the life of a monk in the world, this can sound like a tall order. Fortunately, Benedict knows that we are only human, that everything must be done in moderation. He writes, “few…have the strength for this.”  

We consider what he might mean by the ideal of a “continuous Lent” as well as other words or phrases that resonate with our oblate community during our Lectio Divina discussion.

St. Benedict Center–our monthly Oblate meetings are held in Schuyler, Nebraska More info here.

A continuous Lent. The holy season of Lent, Benedict writes, is a time “to keep its manner of life most pure and to wash away…the negligences of other times.” He offers specific ideas: avoiding evil habits, praying with tears, reading, compunction of heart, and self-denial. Unlike a New Year’s resolution, which we often resolve to add or subtract from our lives (and often lose track of what we resolved to do), a continuous Lent encourages us to keep checking in with our spiritual journey.

Our intentions are not one-and-done. We fall; we get up—again and again. Our spiritual lives can be likened to a spiral—a continuous journey in which we return to learn anew. Lent is a continuous preparation for Easter—a time of resurrection, new life, and beginning again. Even when our hearts are pierced by our own suffering and by the suffering of the world, there is a promise of something new being born, something resurrected. Joy will come again.

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Flowers and Fear, Side by Side

January 2026 Oblate Reflections, Christ the King Priory, Schuyler, Nebraska

Theme: Balance and Moderation; Lectio Divina: Matthew 6: 25-34

Sources: Wisdom Distilled from the Daily, Joan Chittister, Chapter 6 “Monastic Mindfulness: A Blend of Harmony, Wholeness, Balance; In place of confusing life patterns, the security of a healthy balance – The Holy Rule of St. Benedict Podcast w/ Fr. Mauritius Wilde, OSB

Our Lectio Divina reading mentions ‘worry’ six times. Our default emotion can be to worry in the face of an uncertain future, when we fear the worst or feel there may not be enough time, money, food, or stuff. Some of us worry more than others. We are constantly fed cultural and marketing messages that tell us we will be more comfortable if we buy this, more admired if we buy that, safer if we own this, and happier with that. When do we have enough? How do we find a balance? What is the secret to less worry?

So often, we worry about what we have no control over, and our stewing does not change the outcome. Only our peace of mind and heart are disturbed. Joan Chittister writes, “We’re a people who lack awareness. We’re a world that has lost a sense of balance…To live a life of Benedictine awareness means we must come to see what we cannot. To the monastic mind, everything speaks of God. What I have and what I do not have. What I want and what I do not want….Life takes a sense of significance and a happy admission of insignificance.”

We matter. Our wants and our needs matter, yet we are not the center of the universe. We are significant and insignificant simultaneously. Humbly, we must admit that we are not in control of everything, everyone, or every outcome. Things happen, but God accompanies. Our worry does not help. Our controlling tendencies do not get us what we want. Our worry, in fact, is an impediment to living our present moment most fully.

In Matthew 6, it is written, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

These words can be comforting and a reminder that we can only do so much. We can put into action only what we can and let be what we cannot change. Recognizing and naming our emotions of worry and fear can be helpful. “Awareness of the sacred in life is what holds our world together and the lack of awareness and sacred care is what is tearing it apart,” writes Chittister.

Our attention is the first step. When we notice our attachment to physical things, habits, routines, our desire to fix, help, or solve, God is with us as we face our life in truth. Life gives us grief and uncertainty, over and over again. We must accept that this is part of the whole picture of our lives.

Chittister writes about a stained-glass window in the chapel of her monastery — each window carries a different concept, meaning, and design, yet they are not in conflict with one another. It is the light that gives each segment its integrity, blending them together as one. “What is it that makes for unity among the many opposing energies we meet in life that could instead become just so many instances of noisy clash and conflict? What is it that brings life together and nature and people together and the world together and nature together?”

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