Labor and Lectio


Yesterday morning, a young man from Shepherd of the Hills Lutheran Church came to our house to work outdoors for five hours. He came because we had submitted the highest bid in a “Servant Auction” sponsored by the youth who are raising funds for their trip to the ELCA’s National Youth Gathering in New Orleans in July. Matthew arrived a little before eight o’clock. Then he and I went to the clearing in the trees to work at cleaning up the perimeter, where downed branches lay tangled in tall weeds. The work consisted of pulling weeds and picking up branches and then hauling all of this debris to piles in the meadow.

By the end of the morning, which had grown progressively warmer on top of an already humid beginning of the day, I began to appreciate that there is a difference between being sixteen and being forty-seven! Still, it was enjoyable to see him work steadily and with good humor. We talked some of the time and then, at times, we worked in silence. It was a good and heartening experience.

This morning my muscles are reminding me of the work we did yesterday. Then the reading from The Rule of Benedict turned my attention to Chapter 48, “The Daily Manual Labor.” It tells how the community seeks balance among work, prayer, and the practice of lectio divina, which literally means “reading from God,” and is often translated as “divine reading.” Saint Benedict begins by writing,

Idleness is the soul’s enemy, so therefore at determined times the brothers ought to be occupied with manual labor, and again at determined hours in lectio divina (RB 48:1).

Saint Benedict does not set down a rigid schedule, but adapts the balance—the ebb and flow—among prayer and work and reading and rest to suit both the liturgical season and the climate and its weather. So, sanely, he builds a time for physical rest into summer days at their hottest time. The times for prayer move around slightly, taking account of the season and the natural light.

What strikes me as so natural, so grounded, so sane, is his purposeful but non-rigid approach to building a balanced day. As I have grown more accustomed to asking, “How can I live by the spirit of this Rule?” I have looked for ways to adapt Saint Benedict’s insights. Over the last four months, as I have lived between my work at the University of Nebraska Press and now the beginning of interim parish ministry, I have been blessed with the freedom to seek such a balance among my daily devotions, reading, my head-work with WideSky.biz and my hand-work outside on our land.

Each day begins with the Liturgy of the Hours, followed by some reading. I’ve not been diligent about practicing lectio divina, but I have made time each morning to read passages from some devotional, spiritual, or theological text. Then on the best days, I have times when I work with my head and time when I labor with my hands. Working around rain and heat, choosing the tasks that match the weather, has kept my work flexible, my attitude one of adaptation, and my days satisfying and relatively free of toxic stresses. Instead of finding “idleness [to be] the soul’s enemy,” I have discovered Saint Benedict’s wisdom in being “occupied.”

Ut in Omnibus Glorificetur Deus.