In today’s gospel John the Baptist talks about fruits. He tells the crowd: they have to bear fruit in their lives, and makes clear this starts with our neighbour. Everyone who has two coats must share with any who has none; whoever has food must do likewise. He says all this. And then Jesus appears. Jesus has not yet begun his Ministry, its fruits are yet to appear. But God from above says, “you are my son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” He has not yet done anything, and yet God is pleased with him. Here we have two things: The way involves love of our neighbour. That then leads us on a journey to become like the Son.
What about the monastic life? What are its fruits? In our community, we can’t make any claims at all, but we have certainly always done a lot in relation to our neighbour. Education, pastoral ministry, hospitality on quite q scale, all kinds of cooperation with other partners, a huge responsibility in preparing people for ordination to the priesthood, political involvement, particularly in South Africa where our influence on the mergence of the new S.Africa was not negligible. In much of this we seemed to be being fruitful in the right kind of ways, as far as we can see, and it goes on, ever more and more. Those are potentially real fruits. Then there is the fact that each member of the Community is helped on their way to God, to grow nearrer to God.
But is that it? Is that what monastic life is for? Well, certainly, absolutely, and religious communities can’t be without those aspects to their life, it’s part of the way to God. But we have to say: none of these essential things is the heart of the matter. The heart of the matter is revealed in Christ going down into the water and God saying, “you are my beloved, in you I am well pleased”. The heart of it is God’s good pleasure.
When one person loves another, they might love them partly for what they do, but that’s not the essence of it. They love them for what they are. The heart of the Christian calling is to be seen in that interchange between God and Christ – you are my beloved, with you I am well pleased. How can we explore this further? We could say that the life of religious communities is like intercession. When we pray for people who are ill or struggling in any way, we believe that our prayer is used by God. So we could say that God uses the prayer of nuns and monks in his care for the world. Walter Frere, our first Superior, said that we are “God’s remembrancers”. The founder of the French monastery La Pierre-qui-vire said that “in this modern world which doesn’t pray, there is a need … For people who, like another Moses, raise their hands on the mountain … [for] the offering of praise is a social necessity”. We can think perhaps of Christian prayer feeding into God’s hidden plumbing system, and through it, as John Chrysostom puts it, we cooperate with God in the salvation of humanity. We can also think of monastic life as xomething gthat the Church really needs. St Bernard, whether he said it with humorous intent we don’t know, said that nuns and monks are the Church’s teeth. Just as the teeth chew food for the benefit of the whole body, so monks and nuns chew the divine mystery for the benefit of the people of God. So our life can be seen as similar to intercession, a prayer for the world.
Then there is another fruit in this area. The fruit that might come from the example of the monastic life. We of course have to say that we are no examples to anybody. But the life itself is. It acts as a kind of guide to people. John Chrysostom again speaks of the monastery as a lighthouse. Pascal in his Pensées, writing in the 17th century, said that most people who go to church aren’t interested in following the gospel through to its conclusion. Monastic life does seek to live the gospel through to its conclusion, if it is seeking anything. And that somehow helps the church and the world, like a lighthouse.
All of these thoughts identify p[ossible of the fruits of monastic life, but still we are at the level of practical outcomes. We can see in these ways that religious commujnities are useful. Practical outcomes are what John the Baptist was looking for, certainly, and they are an indispensable part of the gospel message. But let’s continue digging to see if we can get a bit further.
If we think of a rain forest with its plants and animals and other forms of life, living out their daily round, many people today regard that with awe and a huge respect. Despite living in a very non-religious age, there is for many a strong sense of the sanctity of creation. Creation, and the lives of its creatures, is beautiful, gratuitous, while also red in tooth and claw – a powerful, captivating mystery. And many people today see the point of it simply being there, as little as possible interfered with by humans.
We can see that kind of attitude in something very different, the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16th century. That had an effect on people very nsimilar to the modern dismay at the destruction of the rainforest. We find expressions of dismay going on through many centuries, because of what was lost. What was lost was not only the social benefits that monasteries provided, but the simple fact that they were there. People can say to us today, I’ve never been to your community, but I’m glad you’re there. The Religious Life is by many beloved, and people are well pleased that it is there. It’s as if to say, that beyond all our communnities’ social engagement, and all the prayer we offer, the simple fact that communities are there is a good in itself. A group of our guests in a recent discussion got to talking about this, and one person described how she used to sing in a choir that performed Bach’s music. The choir would get into anxious discussions about how to make it an impressive or moving performance, but the conductor would repeatedly say “just leave it, let the music speak – Bach knew what he was doing”. So the life of religious communities rests on one foundation: being there – with God. You can’t have that without love and service of our neighbour – they are part of the recipe – nor can you have being-with-God without a life of prayers and intercessions, nor without all the works we get involved in, but they all rest on this one deep foundation.
We always say of course that none of this depends on us – us sinful and wayward brothers or sisters – any effects that monastic life has are often despite us. John Climacus echoes many monastic writers when he says that we in religious communities can make no claims at all – it would undermine the whole endeavour. It’s enough, he says, if we don’t cause any scandal. Thagt’s all we might hopefully be able to say about ourselves, miserable sinners that we are. It is not us, but the life that speaks –Climacus calls it in Greek – excuse my Greek – monadikē politeia – the monastic way of life. It’s that which is a message, an example, a lighthouse, not us wretches who are struggling to live it. The life itself, simply by being lived, is a prayer. We can often go off the rails while the life still speaks. An Italian writer says that it’s easy for communities to slip into simply being a convenient arrangement for living together, with minimum disturbance to anybody. So a community, particularly nowadays, always has to remain conscious of how it is living its life, he says, reflecting on it together, and aiming at continual conversion.
There’s also another reason we can’t make any claims. In everything I’ve said, religious communities are only living in a concentrated form things that apply to all Christians. The heart of the life of a parish priest is being with God, being a praying presence in the community, like the pilot light in the gas appliance. That goes for the priest and the ministry team, and in their own way for every Christian. We all know the Jewish saying that whenever anyone prays, a thousand people around them are saved. Parish churches and cathedrals can ring the same sort of bells as monasteries do for people. We are well pleased simply that they are there.
We started by looking for fruit – this simple being there with God is the primary fruit of the life of religious communities, and of parish communities. Being a place where prayer is alive, what St Benedict calls a household of God. Our task is to remain conscious that in our midst is the burning love of Almighty God.