Rule of 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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October 12, 2026 0

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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October 6, 2026 9

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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March 21, 2026 0

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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February 15, 2026 1

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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January 11, 2026 2

Gratitude or Grumbling: A Thanksgiving Choice

November 2025 Oblate Reflections

“Do not grumble or think ill of others.” (Rule of St. Benedict Ch. 4:39)

What is the key to practicing gratitude rather than grumbling? How can we live a grateful life in the midst of pain and suffering, our own, that of others, and that of the world around us? Is it possible to be thankful for challenging experiences?

We use the Rule of St. Benedict and Scripture to address these questions at our November oblate meeting. We opened our meeting with the Welcome Prayer written by Fr. Thomas Keating).

If we truly practice this prayer to welcome all of the above, we find that the benefit of grumbling is minimal. In fact, grumbling is self-sabotage. The benefit of welcoming everything is that through the moments of distress, unease, discomfort, or suffering, we learn that another way could be a blessing. What can be difficult about the Welcome Prayer is the “letting go” of our control—and oh my, how much we prefer when things go our way.

St. Benedict has a few things to say about grumbling, a form of letting go of our own gripes, opinions, and negativity for the greater good of the community and ultimately our own selves. He encourages his monks to cultivate humility, patience, and a joyful acceptance of their station in life. It requires a surrender of pride to be content even when it is challenging to be.

We read the following excerpts and practice Lectio Divina as a group, sharing the insights we gained.

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November 10, 2025 2

10 Reasons Benedictines Love Silence

I carefully consider everything that I write and share here, especially the more personal or contentious reflections. I rarely write and post on the same day. Not so with my speech. I find myself saying often enough, “Did I just say that out loud?” Words fly out of my mouth much faster than they flow from my pen or keyboard.

Perhaps this is why I enjoy journaling and writing so much. It slows my mind down. In silence, I can be more deliberate, careful, and organized in what I share. A healthy respect for silence could save me some angst in times when my mouth works faster than my mind.

At our annual oblate retreat, with the theme “Building Community Through Our Oblate Promises,” the importance of silence was the topic of the opening session led by Fr. Thomas Leitner, the administrator of St. Benedict Center and a monk who lives at the monastery across the road. Throughout the weekend, we would learn about and practice silence.

Why is silence so fundamental to Benedictine spirituality?

Silence is the way to self-knowledge. A discipline of silence confronts us with ourselves. “Silence is a way for us to put up with ourselves the way we are. Not everything that comes to mind at times of silence is pleasant. Repressed needs and wishes may come up, repressed anger, and perhaps missed opportunities,” Fr. Thomas shared. Silence gives our wounds space to surface, allowing us time to wrestle with and soothe our pain in healthy ways. Silence allows us to see ourselves unfiltered without the influence of others.

In The Interior Castle, St. Teresa of Avila uses imagery of a castle for our soul, emphasizing “how necessary this room (of self-knowledge) is…we shall never completely know ourselves if we don’t strive to know God.” She writes that God dwells within us, and to know God, we must first know ourselves. Hard, but necessary, work to “know thyself,” as the ancient Greek maxim suggests.

Silence connects us to the Divine. Seventh-century bishop and theologian, St. Isaac of Syria, writes:

Try to enter into your treasure house
and you will see the treasure of heaven.
For both the one and the other are the same,
and the one and the same entrance reveals them both.
The ladder leading to the kingdom is within you,
that is, in your soul.

We enter this “treasure house,” our very soul, through the practice of prayer. Some of us may be conditioned to think of prayer as a transactional bubble-gum-machine approach to asking God for what we want. We put in a coin; God supplies the big gumball. Our prayers are “answered.” Yet this is not the kind of prayer that leads to self-knowledge or to a connection with God. Consider a poem by the 19th-century Danish theologian Søren Kierkegaard that points to a different kind of prayer.

As my prayer
became more and more devout and interior,
there was less and less I had to say.
Finally I became completely still.

I became—
this is perhaps an even greater contrast to talking—
I became a listener.

First I thought praying is talking.
I learned, however, that praying is not only silence,
but listening.

That’s the way it is:
Praying does not mean hearing oneself speak,
praying means becoming still and being still
and waiting until I hear God.

-Søren Kierkegaard

Silence builds confidence and leads to self-respect.

“As my prayer became more and more devout and interior,” I come to know myself with greater depth. This knowing builds my confidence: I have been created just as I am, in the image of God. I forgive myself for weaknesses and celebrate my gifts. I seek less approval from others. I have “less and less” to say to justify, convince, or plead my case of worthiness to myself or others.

Teacher, writer, and friend, Parker Palmer, writes, “One of our most debilitating illusions (is) that the answer to our problems is always ‘out there’ somewhere, never ‘in here.’ It’s an illusion that’s constantly reinforced by educational and religious institutions that make us dependent on “experts” and “authorities.” We need not look for knowledge in others; we can trust our own interiority, the Divine Expert Within. I can grow in self-respect, knowing God is within me, intimately speaking to me when I am silent long enough.

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October 14, 2025 0

Our Ruby Anniversary: 40 Years of Marriage

“I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

Forty year ago, my husband, Joe, and I made our marriage vows on August 17, 1985. As a 19-year-old bride, I had little understanding of what those words meant or would require. I imagine it is the same for many. We have hopes and expectations, albeit idealistic or romanticized. We may also have a good idea of what we hope our marriage will NOT be like. Surely, it’s a good place to start, but it is then that the real work of love begins.

Stability, a Benedictine value, is what is promised in marriage when we vow, “all the days of my life.” We promise to stay, to not run away from challenges or difficulties; instead, we remain present to the relationship, to see what we discover about each other. After writing seventy-two chapters in The Rule, Benedict titles his last chapter, “This rule only a beginning of perfection.” In other words, marriage, or any commitment we make, requires practice—making mistakes, forgiveness, and always beginning again.

To love is a decision. A marriage is not made, once and for all, when the I-dos are exchanged. A marriage is constantly being recreated; it is always in the process of becoming. A marriage is made of moments. Moments we would like to forget, moments we must forgive, and moments that help us become more fully who we are. There are moments of joy, adventure, contentment, and the making of beautiful memories. When you string them all together, you get a picture of a life built together.

I love that the ruby, a precious gem, second only to the diamond in toughness and durability, is the traditional symbol for a 40^th wedding anniversary. Throughout history, many cultures and religions have associated the ruby with mystical or spiritual qualities, representing love, passion, protection, vitality, and wealth. (Ruby Symbolism and Legends)

The word “ruby” comes from the Latin word “ruber,” meaning red. The red heart of Valentine’s Day reminds us of a desire for passion and romantic love. One also thinks of the redness of blood, which carries oxygen to all parts of the body, giving life.

Joe and I have experienced this “ruby” nature, not all in one day, month, or year, but over time and as a way of life. The ruby’s “inner glow” led to beliefs that it contained an inner fire or “an inextinguishable flame”. This inner glow, with a playful spirit and sense of humor, has fueled our commitment to protect our marriage, to be resilient, to learn, grow and change. We are wealthy in countless ways—a beautiful daughter and son-in-law, great friends and family connections, opportunities for travel, hobbies, personal interests, and, now, more time for together.

Our new season of retirement. After lengthy careers in law enforcement and education, both Joe and I have retired—letting go of our careers, but not what was at the heart of our vocation. We continue to work in other ways: I lead SoulFully You retreats and workshops on creativity and the spiritual life, write essays for Being Benedictine, and belong to a variety of book/study groups, including oblates. Joe drives senior citizens to recreational activities and appointments, enjoys travel with his siblings, meeting with friends, and cultivating his bourbon collection. We have time to slow down, take a nap when we want, read, and binge-watch TV shows, travel more, and enjoy spontaneous trips to be with our daughter Jessica and her husband, John.

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August 6, 2025 4

Tree of Life

“Everything in this world—every quark, atom, dust speck, heartbeat—quivers with the presence of God and is the presence of God…a kind of fourth dimension to all of life.”

-Thomas Keating: The Making of a Modern Christian Mystic by Cynthia Bourgeault

I find this divine quivering in the creative process of SoulCollage®, writing, planning retreats, deep listening with kindred spirits, reading good books and poetry, and in this season, beholding the beauty of springtime in the shimmering of every conceivable shade of green.

The presence of God quivers especially in the holy surprise of synchronicities, often referred to as a “thin place” by the Celts. Just minutes after creating a SoulCollage® card titled Tree of Life, I stumbled upon the most perfect poem.