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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!
Continue reading “St. Benedict’s Life of Love and Freedom…And My Own Journey” →
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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.)

Continue reading “Rules of the Road: Benedictine Travel Tips” →
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Pray without Ceasing: A Way of Being

Being a Benedictine oblate is a way of life. Oblates desire to live as monks in the world, seeking God by recognizing the sacred in their everyday life, in their family, and in their workplace. Being part of a community of monks and oblates is a source of learning and support for our spiritual journey.

On the second Saturday of each month, the oblates of Christ the King Priory, the monastery I am an oblate of, gather to learn more about the Rule of St. Benedict. Our day includes morning prayer, monastery news, Lectio Divina, Mass, midday prayer, lunch, reading the Rule of St. Benedict, and small-group discussions of a selected book.

Prayer is the foundation of Benedictine spirituality. In August, we focused on Ways to Pray (Chapter 5) in the book Saint Benedict on the Freeway: A Rule of Life for the 21st Century by Corinne Ware. Benedict wrote in the Prologue of the Rule— “First of all, every time you begin a good work, you must pray to him most earnestly to bring it to perfection.” In the Apostle Paul’s letter to Thessalonica, he instructed the new church community to “Pray without ceasing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17)

But what is prayer? And how is it possible to always be praying?

A friend recently asked me how I prayed, especially for others. So often we think that prayer means choosing the right words to speak to God, and that somehow, if we find those magic words, prayer might work “better”. We will get what we prayed for. Many believe that the purpose of prayer is to express what we desire—and that the right words might bring about the reality we hope for. But prayer is i much more than words or being attached to a specific, longed-for outcome.

The definition of prayer must be reimagined. There are many ways to pray, and it is possible to pray without ceasing. “Prayer is not so much our words to God as our life in God.” (Unknown author quoted by Caroline Myss) Reflecting on the chapter, I created a list of what prayer is:

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Hysterics and Hail Marys: Holding the Hand of Fear

A month before my birthday, I wasn’t sure I was going to have another one. 

Lately, I have been contemplating aging and dying more than usual. Turning 60 feels different than turning any other age before it. I take seriously the advice from The Rule of St. Benedict to “Keep death daily before your eyes,” but most often I heed it by how I live my daily life. I try not to dwell on the actual dying part. But this year is different.  

Less than a week before he turned 60, a long-time friend suddenly passed away. He went to bed not feeling well and didn’t wake up. Colin and I would share birthday greetings every year, even if we hadn’t seen each other in a while. Now that will never happen again.

I have spent the few months since his passing considering how quickly life can change, how we are never promised another day. As grateful as I am for each new day, I can still be filled with fear at the idea of dying.

And that was my state of mind when, after breakfast on a Tuesday morning, my throat felt unusual, like I hadn’t swallowed something completely. I asked my husband, Joe, to look at it before I joined a Zoom meeting.

“Looks okay,” he said, so I drank some water and filled my mug with coffee and prepared to begin. Less than ten minutes into the meeting, my eyes started to itch. I realized I was experiencing a health emergency when I looked in a mirror—in real time, I could see my eyes swelling and closing. (Remember The Incredible Hulk? That transformation is what came to mind as I watched my eyes and face change shape.)

On a hurried internet search, my symptoms indicated “anaphylaxis: a sudden, severe, and potentially life-threatening allergic reaction.”  I had never experienced anything like this, so I knew I needed emergency care, and fast. I told Joe something serious was happening, and we needed to go RIGHT NOW. Worry and anxiety are not new to me, but I experienced panic and fear as I never had.

“I am so scared,” I said.

On the way to urgent care, between hysterics and Hail Marys, I could only think of dying and not wanting to, and that we needed to hurry, knowing things can happen so quickly. After my husband dropped me off near the door, I cut the long line, crying for help. Within minutes, I was given my first injection of epinephrine and instructed to get to the emergency department.

“I am so scared.”

When we arrived at the ED, I was escorted past other waiting patients, hooked up to IVs, given a second EpiPen injection, and had blood tests. Several doctors, specialists, and nurses came in and out.

“I am so scared,” I told Joe, for perhaps the hundredth time.

Doctors recommended that I be admitted to the hospital to be monitored. If I had a rebound reaction and couldn’t swallow, I would be put on a ventilator.

“I am so scared,” I kept saying.

Joe told me I’d be okay, to think positively, to stay calm- perhaps excellent advice when I am in my right mind. But I was hysterical. I screamed, “Colin probably thought he was going to be okay too! Things happen; people die!”  Colin certainly didn’t think he would die the night his blood sugar was low. How could Joe tell me I’m going to be okay? Sometimes things aren’t okay. Sometimes people die.

Continue reading “Hysterics and Hail Marys: Holding the Hand of Fear” →
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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.

Continue reading “July 11–My Birthday & The Feast of St. Benedict” →
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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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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.

Continue reading “Gratitude or Grumbling: A Thanksgiving Choice” →
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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.

Continue reading “10 Reasons Benedictines Love Silence” →
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Everyone Deserves To Be Heard

Everyone deserves to be heard.

I realized this most profoundly when I was the one who felt unheard. Perhaps you, too, have had a moment like this when you felt no one was listening—a meaningful, traumatic, challenging, or gratifying experience that needed to be shared fell on deaf ears.

I have written about the Benedictine promises of obedience and the importance of listening to God and others as part of one’s spiritual growth. “Listening requires us to pause, to have silence, and to be open to seeing in a new way. Listening can lead to a shift in perspective, a flash of insight, a new understanding. When you listen closely to another, it is an expression of love,” I shared in a recent reflection.

It is just as crucial to examine the impact it has on others when we are forgetful about listening—understandably, we get busy, or miss clues that others need our ear. Indeed, there are times when others may not realize how important it is (these slights may be easily forgiven), but there may be other times when you or another is summarily dismissed. The message is loud and clear—either you or what you have to say is not valued. It feels hurtful, as if you don’t matter, as if you are insignificant. Being intentionally rejected for your thoughts, ideas, feelings, and experiences leaves a wound, a hole in one’s heart, a sense of being rejected or abandoned.

For me, the experience of not being heard came during a traumatic time for women who had been sexually harassed, abused, or assaulted. I felt my trauma, but also the suffering of so many beyond me. It was a profound compassion, sharing the wound. It came to me then, weeping, that this is what it might feel like for those who have spent their entire lives not feeling listened to, of all those who have been unheard throughout our history, from the enslaved, defeated, oppressed, and marginalized—those who have no one to listen to or validate their pain. They had a story in their heart that needed to be heard, then and now.

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears… Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.” –Donald McNeill, Douglas Morrison, and Henri Nouwen (quoted in Boundless Compassion by Joyce Rupp)

My heart felt broken—not just for me, but for the lack of compassion I may have shown others. Simultaneously wounded and regretful, a part of me died while something else was taking root—a desire to listen to those who feel unheard, to offer acceptance where there might not be, to advocate for those marginalized.  I felt pierced entirely with compassion. Tears flow often now for the suffering that, perhaps, I had not noticed before, the pain that I may have caused others, and the pain that continues to go unnoticed or even flatly denied.

I created a SoulCollage® card shortly after this eye-opening, traumatic experience. Consider the image and the following questions.

“The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous and his ears toward their cry”. -Psalm 34:15

Questions for reflection:

Do you have a story you would like to share with someone? Have you been able to share it with another or write about it? If so, how did it make you feel to be heard? Does it inspire you to listen to the pain and suffering of the world?

Can there be some healing for your wound by expressing it to God if there is no one to share it with? Are you available for others to share their story with you? What is the consequence for a loved one if their story isn’t shared? Is there a person or marginalized group of people that you may listen to more closely than you have?

May our prayers be heard for all those suffering, and for those who have shared their stories but not been heard. May we listen with “the ear of our hearts,” as Benedict instructs. May we be moved to tears. Amen.


© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger


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