EATING ALONE TOGETHER

If a brother is found guilty of less serious faults, he will not be allowed to share the common table. Anyone excluded from the common table will conduct himself as follows: in the oratory he will not lead a psalm or a refrain nor will he recite a reading until he has made satisfaction, and he will take his meals alone, after the brothers have eaten. For instance, if the brothers eat at noon, he will eat in mid afternoon; if the brothers eat in mid afternoon, he will eat in the evening, until by proper satisfaction he gains pardon. (Rule of St. Benedict Ch 24, "Degrees of Excommunication" vv 3-7)

When a monk was guilty of "less serious faults" and needed a wakeup call, the remedy was excommunication, as outlined above. This was not intended to separate the monk from the rest of the community, but rather was aimed at bringing him back after he had begun distancing himself from the group by his behavior. 

It's interesting that the first element of this fearsome disciplinary action is that "he will not be allowed to share the common table." In the fifth Century, then, this must have been a painful penalty: to have to eat all alone, separated from the companionship of ones brothers. 

When I taught a course on the Rule of Benedict to our high schoolers, this chapter usually caused some head-scratching among the students, many of whom always ate alone in their room in front of their computer or on their phone, or while watching television by themselves. It took some explaining, presenting the quaint custom of former days of families (parents and children) sitting around the supper table sharing a meal. 

At supper last night in the monastery the monk assigned to read to the rest of us during the meal read Chapter 24 of the Rule cited above. Several thoughts came to me one after the other.

First, of course, our culture makes it pretty near impossible for most families to eat together, given soccer practices, work schedules and other afternoon and evening activities for children and parents.

Second, the pandemic forced students on all grade levels to sit alone in front of their computers for months instead of being in a classroom full of classmates. Child psychologists are seeing the psychological harm this has done to kids (this is not a prediction, it's already happened). Are these the same kids who prefer eating alone every night in front of their computers?

Third, the community meals from which the monk was excommuned were eaten in complete silence! It wasn't that the brother would miss the pleasant conversation or the banter of the others at the table, rather what he would have missed would have been a consciousness of a sense of oneness with the community. 

This last point something you and I can reflect on no matter what our situation or state in life: being

mindful of where we are, of whom we are with, what we re doing, and so on. Eastern cultures held on to this kind of consciousness or mindfulness while we in the West were emphasizing the rational, logical, intellectual side of the human person. 

This morning at breakfast I deliberately tried  to exercise mindfulness. In the silence of the refectory I let myself be conscious of the brothers that were there eating as I was. We were eating together, not on virtual reality or a cyberspace dining room. I was aware of their physical presence in a way that would not have been possible over Zoom.

Then I became mindful of the other monks who were in their rooms, and Br. Bruno on his way to Canada. This exercise in mindfulness was a pleasant experience. Instead of turning my brain to solving certain problems or devising a plan of action for a task I have to do later today, I made myself aware of that other side of myself -- the poetic, intuitive, non-rational me.  This is of course, the realm of contemplative prayer and meditation, where I'm supposed to be living anyway. I pray that I'll be able to keep up this conscious effort of mindfulness.

If this post leaves a lot of loose ends and seems disjointed, well, that's my contemplative side showing.