We were at the place called Pereo, which then was an island, a dry place in the swamps north of Ravenna, and the Emperor Otto III had just begun to build a monastery near the Hermitage, which was established by St. Bramhjolt and a group of disciples, which included two of the Emperor's men, Bruno of Corfu himself and a certain Tommo or Thomas, who was a military, one of his generals of his army. And we heard about the promise that the Emperor made that he would, after a few years, become a monk. He vowed to make a vow, a promise to become a monk, which of course was not yet the promise of monastic life. It was a promise to do something in the future in relation to monastic life.

[01:02]

And now we come to the key point in this first part of the life of the five brothers where the actual mission begins, and it begins from the apparent failure of the monastery, of the whole project of the Emperor, because two things happen. He builds this monastery. Bramhjolt wants Benedikt, Benedikt the Beneventile, to take charge of it, to become the superior. He's the most fervent. He's young, he's very fervent, and of course he worms his way out of it, he gets his friend Bruno to intercede with the Emperor, the Emperor annuls the election, and therefore somebody else is elected. Whoever he was—he's not named—was not the least bit interested in either the hermit life or the missions. So he just went into the space of the typical feudal habit and carried on from there.

[02:05]

So you have the hermitage, which was constantly being disturbed by Otto's men. You had the monastery, which was simply establishing itself as a church, just as an ordinary monastery, without really realizing what the Emperor had in mind or Saint Bramhjolt had in mind. And then you had these men who still were dreaming of this crowning of their monastic life by going forth, preaching the Gospel, and being willing to become martyrs. So it is the preaching of the Gospel in view of martyrdom, or with the willingness, with the readiness to accept martyrdom if it should come, which is considered to be the highest stage of monastic life. So the monastic life begins in community, the community life trains the monk who can then, in response to the call of God, enter into a more solitary existence.

[03:10]

And when he has fully realized the life of prayer and the virtues proper to the monastic state and the solitary life, then perhaps God will call him out, call him to the preaching of the Gospel. This is the famous threefold advantage of the life of the five brothers. It's an ideal, an idealized schema, it is not the reality of anyone's monastic life. People just don't go through these stages. In practice, even in the history of Kamaldoli and the Kamaldolis, and even in a very early text of Constitutions, which dates from the beginning of the twelfth century, the point is made that even someone who has retired to the hermitage may feel the need to go back to the monastery for a while, and then go back to the hermitage. So it's not simply stages that once you finish one you go on to the next and finish that

[04:12]

and then you go on to the next stage. But it is something that is a constant stimulus to overcoming our habits and overcoming our tendency to live by habit, to fall into a routine, to be satisfied with what we're doing, with the life we're living, and not look beyond it. And so this is perhaps a level of meaning to which we can relate more directly. Chapter five recounts the actual choosing of the missioners from among the hermits. Bruno writes, During the long hours Benedict and I spent together, it was my privilege to enjoy his friendship and to hear him call me my brother, I kept suggesting that he set out for Poland to preach the Gospel, and I declared myself ready to do the same.

[05:14]

Now, there's a very interesting thing here. During the long hours Benedict and I spent together, where were they? Well, they were living in the same cell. Remember this custom which was practiced by Romulus' disciples in various places and at Ponte Vellana, that there would be two monks in a cell. One of them was generally considered a master, a teacher, the other disciple, but sometimes they were of the same age as in the case of Bruno and Benedict. Or perhaps Bruno was even a little, might have been a year or two older than Benedict. It's hard to say. But in any case, they were together. Bruno considered himself a disciple of Benedict, but Benedict considered Bruno his friend and called him my brother. You find here in this text, you don't find the Latin word for friendship, amicizia, but you find the expression privilegium amoris, the privilege of love. And this is a very striking impression.

[06:16]

It is, I think, a characteristic of the communities, of the groups that coalesced around Romulus, this strong bondedness, this affection, this brotherly friendship that they had among themselves. One might think that the hermit life would lead people to be very cold and distant and retiring and non-communicative, whereas in fact these disciples of Romulus, and the text speaks very openly of it, talked a great deal when they were living in the same cell. They observed silence, I suppose, at night, but during the day they would have a number of occasions to talk with one another. And they talked about the things of God, they talked about deeper things, and all of this was an expression of affection, of brotherhood. There is something very egalitarian about St. Romulus, about his mentality. We've seen how he avoids, at all costs, being in charge of other people. He doesn't want to be an abbot of bodies. And we can see how he himself constantly challenges the authorities, and questions the imperial

[07:28]

authorities, he questions the church authorities, he criticizes all of the abbots that were elected, and superiors called them abbots or priors, whatever, elected in his communities. He simply, you might say, is a bit contradictory in this, because he does uphold the principle of the role of St. Benedict, that there does have to be someone who does play the role of Christ, and to whom we must listen. And this attitude of listening, of course, is the real sense of obedience. But on the other hand, he demands such perfection of superiors that none of them is able to rise to the qualities that Romulus expects of them. So anyway, you might say that Romulus' spirit was to establish an attitude of trust, of bondedness, of familiarity among his disciples that perhaps would make it somewhat less necessary for there to be a superior.

[08:29]

Because the superior is there, of course, for the maintaining of discipline, and in order to favor charity, as St. Benedict says. The rule is for that purpose. But if there is this love, if there is this affection, this charity, then there is less need for someone to give order, someone to say, you know. And of course, in recounting these examples of friendship and affection, Bruno Querfurt is thinking also of the whole biblical background to it. The background of this is the life of the Jerusalem community and the acts of the apostles, the life of the early church, Paul and Timothy, and so forth. All of this is in the back of his mind as he is writing this, he is projecting upon the experience of life with his brother Hermanns, the ideal of the gospel, the ideal of the Acts and of the New Testament in general. So he tries, Bruno tries to convince Benedict to go on the missions, and his main argument

[09:38]

is that there in Pereo, which is a swamp, everyone is getting sick. And this doesn't make much sense, because if you're sick, you can't fast, you can't keep vigils, you can't go, can't see your prayers, you can't do all of these monastic things, at least you can't do them to the full rigor of the rule. And so, we're ruining our health, he says, and at the same time, we're not able to practice the full rigor of the monastic life, so we might just as well go off and get killed as martyrs. We're dying anyway here. So, why don't we just go off and let the pagans take care of us? So anyway, persuaded by my words, he says, Benedict began to thirst for martyrdom, and the idea of leaving for Poland gave him another reason for not wanting to be abbot, although if he had stayed and accepted the office, he could have done a great deal of good for the monks, both in the synobium and in the hermitage. So he says, for the rest of the year, the brothers remained in the hermitage.

[10:41]

And then Otto decided to return to Rome. His plan was to take revenge on the city for the humiliation he had suffered there. You see, the people had chased him out. He'd come there with the intention of establishing his court in Rome, and they practically drove, well, they did physically drive him out. And so, after this humiliation, he decided on revenge. And Bruno Querfurt calls it a grave sin against St. Peter, because it's not a question of simply the aristocratic families in Rome, which must be punished for their insubordination, but it is a holy city, according to Bruno Querfurt, and therefore, Otto's idea of sending troops against Rome was an act of, was an offense against St. Peter and kind of a sacrilege. But in the meantime, Otto's there in the hermitage. He loves the monastic life, he loves monks.

[11:43]

He's living there in the hermitage, he's observing kind of a half-way monastic life, a little bit of fasting, a little bit of penance now and then. And the result of it, of course, is that this is a constant disturbance. I mean, imagine if, I don't know, if we had, shall we say, Governor Duke Machen living here with half of his cabinet living here in the hermitage. I mean, it would be a bit inconvenient. So this is what was happening, and therefore, Bruno and Thomas Tomme, the other German hermit, go and ask the emperor, go and tell the emperor that they cannot stand it and that they want to go somewhere else. And so there was another disciple of Romuald, a certain distance away, and it was quieter

[12:45]

there. So these two go off with him and leave Pereo. But Bruno realizes that this was a sin because he was really withdrawing from the teaching of Master Romuald, his teacher, and this was a mistake. He realizes afterwards. But then he goes and explains his choice to Benedict. He says, the situation was an occasion of sin for weak souls like mine, I explained. But now I realize it was wrong for me to leave Master Romuald. When he heard my story, Benedict says, you have taken a great leap, my brother. We two ought to be one, and yet you did this without my knowledge. You lost your teacher, that is Romuald. And you may never find anyone like him again. To me, the thought of abandoning him is almost unthinkable. But if you are going to leave, I will too. See, he's inseparable. Benedict now has to choose between Romuald and Bruno, and he chooses Bruno.

[13:49]

It is very interesting. Then Benedict feels silent, and after a while he said softly, hand me my shoes and let us be on our way. And he added, there's nothing left of the desire and determination we once had in common. What has become of the king's noble plan, his secret intention to bear witness to Christ? In other words, his idea of establishing a monastery, sending missionaries, and eventually doing himself as a missionary. What has become of the promise he made before the angels of God to renounce all his wealth for the sake of eternal life? Benedict continued, what of his desire to turn over the empire to wise successors so that stripping himself of royalty, he might set out as a monk for the holy city Jerusalem and practice Christian philosophy in a hidden desert, far from the ways of men? This question here, has he forgotten his plan to set out for Jerusalem and practice Christian philosophy in the desert? I think Jerusalem and desert are not to be taken literally.

[14:50]

I think these are just typical expressions meaning the monastic life or meaning the hermit life, the journey to Jerusalem. The life of the monk is a journey to Jerusalem. The life of a monk is a withdrawal into the desert, even if it's a question of an urban monastery. It's a withdrawal into the desert. So I think these can be taken symbolically, simply because Otto's idea was in fact to go as a monk missionary to Poland or to wherever in northern Europe. So Bruno continues, I said in reply, I, the heedless disciple whom Benedict loved and whom he accepted just as I was, you know that the emperor wants you to leave for Poland before he does. He has not changed his plans about sending you there. Don't worry about me. I intend to follow in your footsteps as long as I live. It is only the king's wavering resolve that keeps me in this country.

[15:53]

I have to wait until I see what direction his affairs are going to take. And so they go and see the emperor, and with the emperor they go to see Romuald. And the emperor places the formal request before Romuald, please send two of your monks as missionaries into Poland. And so Romuald immediately says yes, and this makes everyone surprised. They expected him not to raise some objections, but in fact he's very happy to give his permission for Benedict and for another brother whose name is John. Do not confuse him with John Gradonigo, this friend and companion of Romuald when they were in the Pyrenees at Kusha. John Gradonigo was at Montecassino and stayed there and died there. This is another John. We don't know where he's from. He was described, it's interesting the description that Bruno gives here. Actually he describes him twice.

[16:54]

First he gives a more down-to-earth, concrete description of this brother John, and then he goes into his rhetoric. He goes into monastic rhetoric, and it's rather amusing the contrast between these two paragraphs. He would follow one right after the other. John was inferior to Benedict only in stature, but in the fervent love of God and in humility he stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the hermitage. He was a man of peace and moderation, and hardly anyone had ever seen him angry. This is by way of contrast to Benedict. It's very emotional, very given to swings of moods. Whereas John was calm, peaceful, and very mild-mannered. As he had a natural aversion for vainglory, he hid his austere way of life behind a smiling face. It's very interesting. He hid his austere way of life. This is the great ideal of the Sermon on the Mount.

[17:56]

Do not do your good works before other people so that they will praise you. And so he takes to heart this teaching of the Gospel. He hid his austere way of life behind a smiling face and tempered his youthful zeal with a wise mind and an inborn patience. So here's John. He's young, he's fervent, but he's very modest. He is very mild-mannered, very friendly, and also very discreet. It's discretion. This is the great quality that he has. Physical description. Smallpox had blinded him in one eye, but his appearance was so radiant that he might have had three eyes instead of one. So smallpox, of course, was very common then. And, in fact, the emperor Oliver III, just a year later, would die of smallpox. People died of smallpox. So he had the smallpox. And so you can imagine him with a patch on his eyes, which would be striking on a monk.

[18:59]

Part of a monk's habit, an eye patch. But anyway. Now, after this description, which makes us warm up to this character, you know, he's mild-mannered. He doesn't put on airs about his austerity or anything like that. He's cheerful, and he's even kind of, you know, ugly, but this pleasant, easy-to-accept ugliness, you know, that some people have. Some people are very radiant, you know, in their ugliness. They have a big nose, or the ears are way out like this. And yet you like them, just because, you know, they wear this ugly face with a great deal of calm and good cheer. And then Bruno goes into this heavy rhetoric. From childhood, John had chosen the better part. Of course, he's alluding to Mary of Bethany, who sat at the feet of Jesus. He had chosen the better part, and he regarded pleasure as an enemy. Shirking no task, he waged war on his lower nature. His observance in the monastery was beyond reproach.

[20:00]

The unruly among the brethren he tamed, and disorderly behavior he rejected. He seasoned his every deed with the spice of humility, and won the abbot's confidence. Gentle and patient, he excelled in the fervent love of God and neighbor. Swiftly he grew to maturity, and when virtue had become easy for him, he endured whatever was hard and unpleasant out of love for Jesus Christ, etc., etc. So, you see these two ways of speaking of a good monk. And the second way, I guess, is something that we find a little less attractive, but it's quite obvious that this is just a gesture in the direction of customary language of ways of speaking. He's simply saying that he was a very good monk and an admirable person. And the important thing, of course, is his fervent love of God and neighbor. Chapter 6, Fond Farewell. So, here again, you know, the theme of friendship, and this tenderheartedness, this warmth of

[21:03]

personality, and this characteristic of their being in contact with their emotions, which is something that is in no way seen as contrary to monastic principles or good behavior, etc. A whole crowd of monks, both good and bad, joined King Otto on his trip down the river to Ravenna. The Holy Pair, Benedict and John, were ready for their trek across the Alps to Poland. Now, when he says Poland, the text says Sklavonia, Sklavonia, the lands of the Slavs. It's a rather vague term. But, in fact, where they were going is Polanie, which was the term which was used for the central part of Poland around Poznań and Dniezno, present-day Poland. The emperor, as a sign of his love for Christ, supervised all the preparations himself and made sure the necessary supplies were in order. So, he organizes everything for the mission and loads up the wagons and makes sure the

[22:06]

wagons are all loaded up with books, and vestments, and supplies, and everything like this. Wasn't it the emperor who was against the missionaries? No, this was the abbot that ended up being elected in Ferreo. Bruno continues, I cannot speak of our last evening together without tears in my eyes. Night was near, and in the waning light I began to traverse the heavens with Benedict. My sorrow was all the greater because of the great love that united us. And yet, miserable man that I am, I confess that I remember our last conversation together as a happy occasion. I must not conceal what he said to me. Benedict, whose custom it was to address me lovingly as my brother, this time kept calling me Lord Bishop with the same affection, thus prophesying what I was to become on account of my sins. So, Bruno considers this as a curse, as a mortal danger for his salvation as a mock.

[23:14]

Benedict was not speaking lightly, and I have every reason to be afraid of what he prophesied. For just as virtue can turn into sin, so sin often gives birth to virtue. Hence, while I was yielding to the seduction of wanderlust, wanting to go to Poland, he, Benedict, was being guided to Poland by the spirit of holiness that had abandoned me. Benedict had been the subject of two visions. It's not on the theme of prophecy, so he goes on to talk about some visions here. Benedict had been the subject of two visions. The first was a dream that came one night to the bishop who ordained him. He dreamt he was pouring a great flood of oil over Benedict's worthy head. Later, someone else had a dream, I can't say who it was, that's obviously himself, that's just an expression, doesn't want to mention himself. Later, someone else had a dream in which he saw Benedict take the chalice and drain all the consecrated wine in one draught. All of this would eventually come true, but Benedict was not interested in prophecies,

[24:22]

nor did he seek salvation in the outward course of events. As a true man of God, he placed his trust in inspired scripture, rather than human speculations. For he had learned to hope in the Lord alone, who created all things out of nothing, and ordered them to our salvation. And this is a very interesting paragraph, and I'd like us all to remember the reading from St. John of the Cross, when was it, yes, not last, or this morning's vigils, but Monday morning vigil. Go back and read that, because that is a fantastic page, the best page of theology that St. John of the Cross wrote in his whole life, aside from his poetry, which is great, absolutely. But there he makes the point that all of these visions, all of these revelations, all of these things that can sometimes take place in the life of the mystics, are of no salvific value, and cannot be the object of faith. The only object of our faith is what has been revealed in the Word, the Word of God, the Word in Jesus Christ.

[25:23]

And with that revelation, we have everything, we don't need any more revelations, we don't need any secrets, excuse me, with a little bit of polemics I say this, we don't need to know any secrets, because there are no secrets in the Gospel and in the Catholic faith. So, this is very interesting now, that this is included here. And we can remember that the year 1000, just as we're approaching the year 2000, was a time when people, it was a year, a date, that people approached either with trepidation or with grandiose expectations. Whereas, Romul, and his monks, approached every day and every year with an attitude of hope. You see, there's a great difference between this hunger for revelations and hunger for visions and for special secrets about what's going to happen next year, what's going to happen at the end of the world, there's a great difference between this and the theological virtue of hope.

[26:29]

So, he makes a very emphatic point here about the fact that Benedict placed his hope in the Inspired Scriptures and in Divine Revelation and not in any other thing that is sometimes associated with mysticism that has nothing, absolutely nothing, essential to do with it. Bruno continues, Whenever you are at prayer or inquire, always remember to beseech the living God and to ask him to fulfill in us, for the sake of his name,

[27:30]

the desire he gave us both, that before we die a natural death, you and I may see the happy day when God in his mercy will allow us to shed our blood for the sake of the gospel and by the power of the Spirit grant us the remission of our sins. So, just as he says, monastic life is for salvation, he's looking for salvation, so he's looking in martyrdom for the remission of sins. This is consciousness. We, of course, when we think about ourselves as sinners, there's a delicate point here and Robert's mentioned this a number of times, where we need to find our own somewhat different balance than these earlier writers. The sense of sin. Now, of course, theologically the sense of sin is always a posteriori to the experience of God's forgiveness. It is the awareness of God's mercy, of his just mercy, but of his tender mercy, which awakens our conscience to the gravity of sin.

[28:30]

We don't realize what sin is until sin is forgiven, until it isn't there anymore and we realize what God has taken away. And so, I suppose in our time, we need to place a much stronger emphasis on the positive aspect in order to overcome negative self-images, etc. Whereas in those days, they were not worried so much about self-image, they were not as self-centered or as ego-centered as we are, and so they thought of what they were doing as a way of obtaining the remission of their sins. And Bruno says, I, a sinner, thus left a saint this pledge of my love, that wherever he went, I would follow. I said this over and over again so as to impress it upon his ears. For his part, Blessed Benedict insisted that I learn Polish, Lingua Linguam Slavonica, the Slavonic language, which may of course be Church Slavonic, the language of the Slavonic liturgy. And my theory is that when they went to Poland, they didn't celebrate the Mass in

[29:34]

Latin, but they celebrated it in the Slavonic translation of St. Cyril. This is a hypothesis and a couple of arguments that I have for it. So there is this insistence, learn the language. But the one thing he repeated most often was that I must not come without the papal license to preach. And we'll find this repeated over and over again, this document. Why doesn't Bruno bring us the papal document? Why doesn't he bring the Pope's letter? It's very important to have the Pope's letter. Why is it important? In order to protect the monks and their mission from too much involvement on the part of the local critics. It was a form of what they called exemption. It's a guarantee that this was something that was established by the authority of the Pope and therefore the monks

[30:36]

had a certain amount of freedom vis-a-vis the local prince. And this is a very important thing in those days because we are a couple of generations before the Gregorian reforms. We're in the phase of what is called lay investiture of the previastics, where it is the prince, the emperors who nominates bishops, et cetera, and abbots and of course Otto did this and nominated two popes in succession, Gregory V and Sylvester II. So they need this letter in order to have a certain amount of protection from too much domination by the local civil authorities. With these words, my Lord Benedict was taken from me and never again would I see him in this place of toil. Like two stars in the firmament, Benedict and John went forth

[31:39]

to receive a noble end in the land of the Poles. Burning with love for Jesus, like wood in the fire, the man of God Benedict —this expression, the man of God, is used of the first Saint Benedict in that life written by Saint Gregory—the man of God Benedict was motivated by one desire only, to attain eternal life through a pure and undivided love for divine wisdom. A very interesting expression, summing up his desire, his monastic goal to attain eternal life through a pure and undivided love for divine wisdom. You were talking about the people there. My understanding at this point in time is a little different than now. Because now a pope says something, you do it out of respect. Back then, part of the papal authority was that he had the arms of that girl. I mean, you don't necessarily not mess with a pope because he's a spiritual leader, but you don't mess with a pope because he's also got the arms of this girl. Play a part in the importance

[32:40]

of that. Not in this particular instance, and not actually in this particular time, because you're in a time of extreme weakness of the papacy. So, even though there was this idea that the pope would have power over a certain territory, geographical territory, this had not been realized in the form that we find it later, with the Gregorian reform later in the 7th and so forth. There you have the principle that the pope is above everyone, and he judges everyone, and no one judges him, etc., etc. But here, actually, this is simply a guarantee of a certain amount of autonomy, of the autonomy of the spiritual, as against the political. And this is a problem which came up a couple times in St. Romuald's life. Later after his disciples are martyred, Romuald will attempt to go to Hungary, and he gets sick on the way, and every step closer he takes to Hungary, sicker he gets, and when he turns back, he gets

[33:42]

well, and he starts to cross over the border into Hungary again, and he gets sick again. And it's not unlikely that this was actually a kind of a, well, it could be psychosomatic, it could be an intentional thing, because of the very complicated situation of King Stephen, of his trying to live in good terms with the emperor of the East, Constantinople, and the emperor of the West, who at that time was Henry II. And so there was most likely the danger of the politicization of the mission at that time. This is a few years later, a few years after this. So anyway, the papal letter is a guarantee that that mission will not be a pawn in a political game. It would be an authentic gospel ministry. So he continues his praise of

[34:47]

Benedict and John, their qualities. Then he says, they crossed the Alps and took a long detour that led them through many lands of unknown tongue before they reached Poland. After enduring great hardship, they finally arrived at their destination, where they met the ruler of the Poles, Bolesław. Bolesław, Polish pronunciation, you can call him Boleslaw if you want to. I'll say Bolesław. His name means greater in renown. And he was the only prince of our day whose privilege it was to send such a rare soul as St. Adalbert, remember St. Adalbert of Prague, a former bishop of Prague and a monk in Rome at St. Alessio and a martyr in the north of Poland, presently called Gdansk. So it was the privilege of Duke Bolesław to send such a rare soul as St. Adalbert to preach and to have him fall as a martyr on Polish soil. As was his custom, Duke Bolesław

[35:50]

received the two servants of God with eagerness and deep gratitude and he showed them every kindness. They soon found a peaceful place suitable for the contemplative life. Bolesław built them a monastery, sparing no expense and provided for their needs so that they would not have to work the soil. So they're coming there. It was for the contemplative life plus the life of preaching. The two were joined together and therefore manual labor would take a secondary place. Manual labor is important in the life of Rommel's hermits. It is a particular characteristic. Some have seen this as a little bit of polemic with the exclusively liturgical lifestyle of the Cluniac monks. I personally don't see any great point that is being made there. There was of course practiced a certain amount of manual labor practice at Cluny. There were times and seasons where manual labor was practiced and the abbot himself, the

[36:54]

saintly abbots, when they were resident there at Cluny, went out in the fields and brought in the grain when this was the time to do it. Or they worked in the kitchen when this was their turn. So it wasn't that at Cluny they only occupied themselves with liturgy and didn't do any manual labor. That's a distortion or a caricature of the Cluniac way of life. But... He uses, no, he uses vita contemplativa. I can't pinpoint the text, it's not here. I'm just saying this in a general way, but also alluding in appropriate ways to the biblical texts that are usually adduced for the contemplative life, the Mary of Bethany and so forth, at the feet of Jesus. So the idea of course was that they would have a place where they would be able to live an undisturbed life of

[37:54]

prayer, and then they would go out from their monastery, hermitage, to preach the gospel and return. So this was the model. So they were on the borders of the populated area of Polonia, of the Christianized area of modern-day Poland. They were close enough to a village so that people could come for mass. And we'll see later when they're martyred that the people come and are waiting outside the gate for mass and no one opens the gate and they look in through the hedge and see that someone's lying dead there. So we'll see what has happened. Also we find later, talking about the martyrdom, the description of the monastery. I'll just draw a little schema now, a picture of it, because it's really pretty clear. It's not what is usual for a traditional model after convulsion, you know, it's a lot of the value of hermitage, but just a simple, small monastery. So you would have a church.

[38:55]

And you would have a cloister. I'll put this dog in like this, you know, but you can imagine a cloister with columns and so forth. It was probably built out of wood. It probably wasn't. And then on this side was the monastery. Here was probably a huge chapter hall. And this was probably the gate. I'm guessing that this was because they couldn't describe it. People looking through the gate can see one of the brothers lying here in the courtyard dead. So this is the dormitory, and here's the door to the dormitory, and here's Benedict's bed, and here's John's bed, here's Isaac's bed, here's Matthew's bed. So this is actually the dormitory. This is described, you know, when they're talking about the martyrdom.

[39:57]

So it was a kind of a synobium, but a very small synobium in an isolated area. There would have been, at the time of the brothers' martyrdom, five monks. One of the actual monks was absent, so the fifth brother was actually the cook, who was a layman. He was like a, well, an auxiliary. He was a resident there with them and lived, I don't know, in the kitchen or something, and did the cooking. And his brother was a handyman who was also away. So the five were four monks and one cook. So anyway, they are established now in Poland, and Bruno then goes on to recount the last adventures of Otto III. And this is a very striking chapter, which we won't read here, but it's very interesting because it gives this eyewitness account of Otto's death, you know, and mentions how very devoutly he approached death and received communion every day

[41:00]

and wept over his sins and confessed his sins publicly. And then when he died, he simply breathed his last with a sigh that seemed like someone sleeping. And he says this is a sign that his sins were forgiven and that he went straight to heaven because, as the fathers say, someone who dies so peacefully and happily obviously was in the grace of God, so he went straight to heaven. But however, he does see this as a kind of a punishment on Otto's desire to wreak revenge, to attack Rome and to avenge his humiliation. So Otto didn't make it to becoming a monk. He says that Otto was actually more a monk than a prince, and this was a fault. He says Otto rarely acted like a king, whether at official functions or in his private life.

[42:03]

On the contrary, he kept trying to practice virtues proper to monks. He was humble to a fault. His faith was unshakable. His generosity unbounded. No one in his right mind can deny that Otto did a great deal of good. His thoughts and affections were not for this world. Here he had no abiding city, but filled with love for God he saw the city that is to come. In his eyes, in the eyes of men, he was an emperor, but in God's eyes he was already a monk. He had at his disposal all the carnal enticements that dragged men to their ruin, gold and silver and empire and all the pleasures of power, but they were nothing to him. He was like one who had already announced these things. I'm trying to find the place where he says we criticized him because of this monkishness of life. Let me see where he says this. Anyway, he does say that

[43:13]

this is actually a fault because he was not was not really he didn't do his job as an emperor which was to preserve justice and to take care of the poor. It's very interesting the point that this Otto was so taken by the life of prayer and the life of the monks was distracted from what was, according to Bruno, his primary duty which was defending the poor. Anyway, he dies a very peaceful death. He got to Rome, was repulsed again. He retreated to a castle near Paterno, which is north of Rome, and there he died. This was Otto, a father to monks, a mother to bishops, a son of kindness and mercy, a faultless servant of religion and the true faith, rich in goodwill while practicing the virtue of poverty, bestowing earthly goods on all without distinction, victorious

[44:19]

over the carnal sins of youth, spurning his native land for the love of heaven. Golden Rome's beauty brought ruin upon him, but grief was God's wrath and long was he mourned by those he left behind. Now his soul rests assured of salvation and a better life in Christ Jesus. So anyway, the emperor dies and at this point they receive the message and this is a terrible blow. You can imagine what this meant to them because they felt that they were, number one, fulfilling a project which the emperor with Romulus' permission had set up in Piraeus. Number two, they also believed that by going on a mission they were saving the emperors. In other words, the emperor had provided them with these means of doing a mission and therefore he would participate in their merits as they preached the gospel. So they realized that all of this is to no avail

[45:20]

that Otto has died and perhaps they didn't even have any idea of how he had died, whether he had died a Christian death or died in battle or whatever. Anyway, we will leave them for now and Thursday evening we'll have the last of this series of talks on the five brothers. We'll bring them to their martyrdom. So, let us set the scene for the last phase of the story, the last chapter, but the culmination, the denouement of the story of the five brothers, their martyrdom. When Otto died, war began to break out all over Europe and the reason was the succession. Otto died without an heir. He was not even married. His bride was actually on her way from Constantinople. It was going to be a Greek bride, like his mother. She was on her way, so there was

[46:23]

no heir and so there was a struggle for the succession. The son of Otto's great uncle was elected and that was Henry, Henry II. I have a certain amount of difficulty talking about Henry II because they say that in Poland the priests there, when the feast of St. Henry, I'm sorry, this is the way the Poles feel about Henry, but when the feast of St. Henry comes along Polish priests will usually go into the confessional and stay there for eight hours so they'll be dispensed from the office and they won't have to say the prayer in honor of St. Henry because he is not well liked in Poland. Actually what happened was that and of course you see these personalities in the Middle Ages could be canonized for their virtues and their vices were not really, they didn't consider their vices, they thought about their virtues, so I'm sure he had enough virtues to merit

[47:26]

canonization or beatification, but certainly he did wage war on Christian peoples and his allies in this case were pagans, you see. So this was what happened and so at this moment Bruno finally wakes up to his own responsibilities and is tormented by his conscience because he has not gone to the brothers and so he tries to go north and he can't because there is this war going on and at the same time the brothers up in Poland want to send a messenger down to Italy and find if Bruno is there or go directly to the Pope and see if they can obtain this letter which is so necessary for them for their mission. At all events Bruno writes about himself with his very

[48:30]

strong sense of guilt over this, he says if I could not come, that is if I could not come to the brothers in Poland it was all my fault, my sins held me prisoner not only were my sins more than I could count but even my few and insignificant good deeds were contaminated with evil as it is written, he who helps a sinner shares in his sin and in the Psalms his ways are defiled at all times in the hermitage in Italy I was not accomplishing anything but I feared my own eagerness to leave I remember the gospel verse, in whatever place you stay hasten not to leave it, the devil whose toy I was kept me far from my salvation and yet I was going to preach the gospel to others, my desire to leave egged me on but the miserable state of my soul kept me from going fearful as I was of the consequences, I feared the devil was trying to deceive me with the hope of better things so as to make me

[49:35]

leave my cell in a state of sin, devoid of the virtues I was supposed to be acquiring there, then he quotes the will of Saint Benedict which also So the brothers are there waiting yes, in Poland and here, I'll move ahead and there's Bruno's description of their feelings and their sentiments as they wait for this letter from Rome Benedict, the citizen of heaven, was just the opposite it was the opposite from me, Bruno is writing, I am unfaithful, I am not keeping my promises, but Benedict was a man of God and therefore he was the opposite of this, unlike me he held fast to the truth and kept his promises, since I was unwilling to come to him, God inspired him to go looking for me Duke Boleslav gave him ten pounds of silver for the trip

[50:39]

this is important, they received some money for the trip to Rome one of them had to stay home and this was John, he was the one best suited to take charge of the monastery and keep it in the service of God and write doctrine, since his first fervor had led him straight to the hermitage, John's desire to enter the third stage, the preaching of the gospel, was less intense than Benedict's, but this was probably because John was by nature more patient, so there is not a literal mention of the third stage I put it in here to elucidate the expression that he uses, he is referring to this schema of the monastic life as moving from the hermitage, from the synobium to the hermitage and then those who are perfected in the contemplative life will go forth to preach the gospel and give their lives for Christ, this is the ideal, so John was

[51:42]

not as anxious as Benedict was to begin the actual missionary work, but this was probably because John was by nature more patient, things that would trouble Benedict, so he, John, would accept with equanimity, waiting for God to make clear his will but he understood Benedict's holy restlessness, in other words, John understood his brother and was sympathetic with him, John shared the hurt his brother's sensitive nature had suffered on account of the wound I had inflicted on our friendship, I am convinced that if you search throughout Christendom, you could hardly find anyone equal to Benedict in the love of Christ and surely no one greater than he, and whatever he did, he sought his Lord's approval and no one else's, the same is said of St. Ronald he ignored what other people thought or said about him and only looked to his conscience, Benedict did what he

[52:46]

knew was acceptable in God's eyes, no matter how difficult or painful it was Benedict could well say, I do not make my life dearer to me than myself, this alone was the reason for his obsession with obtaining the Pope's letter or with finding me if I had obtained it, his saintly soul was troubled and in anguish and deprived of all solace, he was all tears and sighs, and so let us reflect upon this fact, our image of what saints are like, we have this image that they're always, you know, very calm and very centered and they never feel strong emotions, certainly never express strong emotions and here you have this fiery Neapolitan overflowing with energy, with eagerness to go and preach and with anxiety because he doesn't have the Pope's letter and with a terrible melancholy

[53:50]

and depression upon him because his best friend has let him down and all of this is simply his kind of holiness, however, Bruno adds, Benedict's fellow saint, blessed John, humbly submitted to God's judgments and patiently accepted events as they happened, thanks to his innate wisdom and God's grace, it was easier for him to restrain his emotions and if things could not be as he wished, he wished them to be as they were, that's a nice axiom Benedict, exactly, exactly, very different characters, very different personalities, Benedict, impatient with the slow passage of time, was battered by wave upon wave of emotion unable to accept his lot in life, he was at war with himself afraid that his holy desire might be frustrated and that his hope might fail to attain its crown if Benedict

[54:53]

had stayed in Italy, he could have borne as much fruit for the gospel there as in Poland, but instead he crossed mountains, rivers, and plains and came to a land whose tongue he did not know by now, however, he did understand Polish and spoke it well enough both he and John wore their hair short which means that before they wore their hair long, I don't know what else it means no, I think they probably shaved on the sides here, mohawk, what they call the mohawk hair is the way men, you know, they used to shave their heads on the sides so they didn't have this crest here, Polish warders wore their hair like that anyway, so both he and John wore their hair short and had adopted the sort of clothing worn by the local people, so as to be acceptable to the pagans and not to turn them away by the strangeness of their attire. Benedict wanted to appear like the Polish people in what he wore and the way he lived, so that it would be easier for them, the people, to accept the gospel. By creating favorable circumstances and approaching them with discretion

[55:56]

always a necessary virtue, he could then guide them in the way of salvation. So here we find discretion which we've heard mentioned so many times as the great virtue of monks and hermits is now the great virtue of missionaries, and it's applied to this, what we call today, inculturation, the language of the people the clothing the people wear, etc. My footnote. Just as Bruno speaks of going on mission as seeking Christ, this is the expression the disciples go on mission to seek Christ, so here the practice of discretion, the monastic virtue par excellence characterizes the way the mission is conducted. At this point it should be abundantly clear that evangelization from St. Benedict himself at Monte Cassino he would go down the mountain and preach to the pagans around Monte Cassino, so St. Benedict was also a missionary not as far away from his monastery but still a missionary, so from

[56:59]

St. Benedict himself at Monte Cassino to the first St. Boniface and St. Leoba in Germany to our own Bruno Boniface this missionary, this activity of evangelization is an integral dimension of early, that is 6th to 11th century Benedictine spirituality and practice, so it is one dimension historically of Benedictine life, not of the disciples of St. Romuald as some kind of strange innovation or exception or something terribly un-Benedictine about Romuald, but simply in the line of the great monastic tradition of the West, that monks when it was appropriate for them to do so engaged in evangelization, but there is a specifically monastic way to evangelize with discretion, in other words it is often more monastic to discard the

[57:59]

monastic habit in favor of lay clothing than it is to preserve the habit for the sake of identity. It is always more monastic, I'm expressing my opinion, it is always more monastic to sing the liturgy in the language of the people, in the case of our brothers the Slavonic Roman Rite, than it is to use the Latin simply because it creates an aura of mystery. I think everyone knows I like Latin but anyway, the principle is important. The principle of inculturation is something that comes from some of the great monastic saints, not only the West but also the East, let us remember Saint Cyril and Methodius, who brought the Slavonic liturgy to Central and Eastern Europe but also, they did translate the Roman Rite into the Slavonic language, and this is my theory that the brothers in Poland used the Slavonic Roman Rite rather than

[58:59]

the Latin. Above all, it is monastic to show delicacy and respect, not only towards the persons we are called to evangelize but also toward their culture and all its various expressions, and this is what Bruno means by discretion in missionary life. So, we have this tradition which is important in monk missionaries from Saint Benedict including Saint Cyril and Methodius, Saint Boniface, these brothers, and then, of course, in our own time, I think we can fairly say that, of course, it's something that we inherited, it wasn't something that was begun by us Kamaldolis, but Saint Ivan is a great example of inculturation in the Church today. The Church in India is very much aware of now, finally, after a long time, is aware of the importance both of the contemplative life and a very inculturated

[60:03]

life, especially because there, unlike Poland in this time, rather barbarian people, there in India, they are one of the great civilizations of humanity, and they have a monastic tradition which is Indian, and therefore, it is appropriate for Christian monastics to adopt that aspect of life. And so, the monks at Shantiman, of course, as you know, wear the Kavi, wear the orange robes, and so forth. This is in the line of our tradition, so we have this great tradition, and we can be justly proud of it. So, Benedict sets out for the south, and he gets as far as Bohemia. The just man Benedict entered guilty Bohemia, and its ruined metropolis, that's Prague. He planned to continue his journey overland on foot, which would be easier, if more tiresome

[61:07]

than on horseback, since the main roads were closed on account of the war. His thoughts were of me, and of the sweet friendship that united us. War raged like a winter storm, making travel impossible. Even unarmed messengers, in spite of the traditional law of immunity that protected them, could not reach their destination in safety. An interesting little detail, I didn't know that there was this custom, but they were generally protected, the messengers were allowed to pass through even enemy lines. For this reason, Duke Boleslav had tried to dissuade Benedict from making the trip, even though he was glad to provide him with money for it. Boleslav was afraid that Benedict might be caught in the crossfire, or fall into enemy hands, and thus he would lose his most worthy subject. Boleslav was afraid that he would lose his holy monk. Because of his affection for Benedict, the Duke

[62:10]

put great confidence in him, and he would sooner grieve Benedict a hundred times than deprive himself of so powerful an advocate before God. When Benedict saw that all ways to me were cut off, he sank into a deep state of depression. In fact, he was by nature inclined to melancholy. His motive for starting the trip was his love for me, and the bitter tears he shed at not being able to see me face-to-face were proof of his affection. From his eyes as from a great watershed flowed rivers of tears that furrowed his cheeks." This is wonderful, you know, you have the monastic literature that talks about the gift of tears, and of course it's the tears of love for God, and the emotions that come from the soul, from the depths of the soul on reading the Psalms, you know, as St. Bromuel read in the Psalms, I will do not be like a horse or a mule, no, it's the verse that precedes that, Psalm 33,

[63:10]

I will keep my eyes upon you. So when he realizes that God's eyes are upon him, this tender, benevolent gaze of God, he breaks out in tears, the gift of tears. But here the tears are being shed out of frustration, and out of the sense of betrayal, betrayal of friendship. Obviously here, you know, it's clear that Bruno presents us, Benedict, as weeping over this betrayed friendship, this wounded friendship, but not condemning Bruno, you see. I think that's probably the fact, I think that's probably the case, even on a human level. Friendship can be deeply wounded, and yet a true friend will not be able really to condemn his friend, even if his friend turns traitor. And so this makes us think of Jesus and Judas, of course. ...

[64:12]

Benedict thought about, yes? Bruno couldn't get to him, you see, the war was on, so Bruno was in hunger at this particular moment, he had gone... ... No, but Bruno was supposed to come before then, before the war started, you see. Now the fact that at that moment he couldn't get to him, well, it was obvious the war was on, and it was impossible to do so. ... Oh no, I think, let me, well, let me state it a little more clearly, I think on Benedict's side, he did not see it as betrayal, you see, he did not judge Bruno, he asked himself why, why, my friend? And he promised, and he didn't come. But Bruno's self-judgment, of course, is self-condemnatory. He regards himself as a Judas, as a traitor.

[65:13]

... Benedict thought about the work he had come to do in Poland, and he blamed himself for the straits he was in, since what he desired could not come to him, and he was unable to go find it himself. He told himself that it was his own fault, you see, now, you know, Benedict starts blaming himself, because he had left Italy without considering the consequences. In his own country, he thought he might have gained many souls for Christ. He sought, and did not find. He lost what he had, and bore no fruit. With every good intention, he had come to Poland, but his efforts had been all in vain. Instead of disciples to comfort him with their brotherly love, he had enemies and almost total defeat. Benedict's state of mind alternated between anger at Lord Bolesław, he was angry at Bolesław, for not wanting him

[66:16]

to go. After all, Benedict was not afraid, in spite of all the Duke's talk about war conditions and enemy troops, and distress at me, Bruno says, for my sinful negligence, since I was then near Prague. I could have fulfilled my promise. This was true, of course, but at that moment, I was not willing to face him. It's a double bind of the guilty conscience, you know, he could, I suppose, come from Hungary and find his way over the Carpathian Mountains and avoid Henry's troops, but he didn't do it. Yes, a sinner always hates to look a saint in the eye. How, then, can I ever face my master in heaven, since I thought so little of his will, and hurried to do my own, with all the restraint of a wild horse? I propose to render spiritual service in such a way as not to lose earthly advantages. As an untrustworthy servant of Jesus Christ, I sought to win his

[67:19]

love without hating this world and all its empty show. Against myself, I can say, you failed as a statesman and did not succeed as a monk. This is a quote from some author whom we do not know exactly who it was. Perhaps from Cassius. Perhaps. So, Benedict returned to Poland empty-handed, his heart filled with sorrow, his eyes with tears, his soul with great sadness. He and John had some solace, however, in the midst of the fire of affliction. Duke Bolesław did finally grant permission for Barnabas he was not named by Bruno, I put this in square parentheses, but we know from elsewhere that Barnabas is the name of the brother who survived. He was one of the novices. He was a priest, actually. He was already a priest when he joined them. So, Duke Bolesław did give permission for Barnabas, one of the Polish brothers, to go to Rome.

[68:25]

For the love of God, he had become their novice. Now, he is the spiritual father of the community, having been elected abbot. So, everyone else was dead and he was the only one left, so naturally he was elected abbot. So, Brother Barnabas left for Rome, the world's chief city and mother of all the churches. Benedict ordered him under holy obedience to find me wherever I was, since I was the one who had convinced them to come to Poland. If I had the Pope's letter with me, he was to return immediately by the most direct route. If not, he was to ask me to appoint someone to accompany him to Rome so that together they might request a copy of it. They were not to consider their mission completed otherwise. When the outcome is certain, yeah, you can turn that off, thank you. When the outcome is certain, the waiting is brief for one who loves, but when it is not, the lover is filled with fear and the waiting seems long. Benedict

[69:29]

tried to temper his sorrow and make this new pain more endurable, the new pain of seeing another brother go and fear for him, by specifying the exact date on which Brother Barnabas was to return, either the Feast of All Saints, November 1st, or at the latest, the Feast of Saint Marta, November 11th. This is the period of the... which precedes the Christmas Lent. Christmas Lent is the 40 days before Christmas, so it begins after Martin Mass on the 12th of November. So from the 1st of November, All Saints to the 11th, is the period of the Fall Carnival. So there's recreation, you know, the monks are free to talk. So this is the custom in the Middle Ages, which was still observed commonly up until fairly recent times. But I think Benedict forgot,

[70:29]

says Bruno, what with their urgent need and his own deep suffering, the teaching of the holy rule he had vowed to observe, that a monk should make no plans for the morrow. So Benedict stayed in the hermitage and sent Barnabas to find me. That wretch, I mean myself, whose delay had caused them such sorrow, was nowhere to be found. Unable to trace my steps, Barnabas did the right thing and went straight to Rome to obtain the papal letter. In the meantime, Benedict settled back into his usual routine and sought to sweeten the bitterness of his soul by renewing his desire for God. Having faced the harsh realities of the moment like a man, he found comfort in the thought of great treasure in the world to come. For him there was one true good among all that is good, one true happiness among all the things that promise happiness to mortals and make them run in vain. That is, the fear of the Lord.

[71:30]

The fear of the Lord, the beginning of wisdom, the fear of the Lord, the first degree of humility, etc. We always remember, of course, the true biblical sense of the fear of the Lord, which we gain from the various parallels which are used for the expression in the Psalms, and these are in fact synonyms for the fear of the Lord. They are to seek the Lord's face, to serve the Lord, to wait for the Lord, and these all bear the same fundamental meaning as to fear the Lord. So it's an attitude of worship, reverence, of seeking God. So it's not fear by means. This holy fear ruled his life and taught him to call on the living God in the midst of every affliction. So it is this fear of the Lord that gives us confidence to call on God in need. It taught him to counter every wrong desire born of disordered appetites with the right renunciation fruit of an authentic vision of reality.

[72:33]

This is a very complex expression which I have not translated literally, because it just doesn't bear a literal translation. So this holy fear of God taught Benedict to counter every wrong desire born of disordered appetites with the right renunciation fruit of an authentic vision of reality. So right renunciation fruit of an authentic vision of reality is ab renunciationis perfectum contentum mundi, contentum mundi, a highly technical expression. Contempt for the world? Not really. This is a Semitic hyperbole, like hating one's life in the world, in John 12, 25. As a vision of reality, it posits God's primacy over every other good and the world's radical contingency and insufficiency.

[73:35]

So it's not contempt for the world which God created or any of the good things in the world, but it is a sense of the non-substantiality of the impermanence of the world. This contempt, so-called, becomes perfect in the Gospel sense when it is a seeking first the kingdom of God. Then the monk practices right renunciation and receives the blessing of the poor in spirit. So all of this monastic vocabulary has to be seen within its context, in the whole monastic literature, and also in relationship with the biblical background. So we cannot take contentum mundi as meaning contempt for the world, but as this attitude which is deeply free from all attachment to the immediate reality of our material existence,

[74:41]

our temporal existence. Continuing Bruno's text, Benedict knew that he possessed nothing on earth except his own self, and he had no desire for anything in this world but God. He kept his mind's eye fixed on eternal glory, which is all the wise live for, and so forth. Well, this is a little snapshot which—and also Benedict says Benedict meditates on the golden rule of discretion. Again, another note on this. I've spoken of it repeatedly, but it's important to keep in mind. Discretion is the monk's golden rule, and in Romule's teaching it becomes the sine qua non for perseverance in the hermitage. Its opposite, as we have seen, is presumption. Discretion gives priority to a strategy of perseverance, which is more demanding than any outward penance, since it requires that the monk continually humble

[75:44]

himself, recognizing honestly his own limits. Benedict and John spent the summer— we're in the summer, of course. This is taking place not in November, but obviously the time it takes to travel from Poland to Rome, etc., is several months. So they sent Barnabas on his way in summer. Benedict and John spent the summer in anticipation of the Feast of All Saints, steadfast in the observance of prayer and fasting, waiting like the apostles to be clothed with power from on high. So this is an allusion to the apostles in the upper room, and this is a constant memory in monastic literature, the memory of the apostolic community in Jerusalem. The community of the apostles is the model of the monastic life, the primary model of monastic life, having all things in common,

[76:44]

united by charity, centered on the breaking of the bread, the sacramental mysteries, etc. The two holy brothers lived in perfect harmony. Beautiful paragraph. It kind of sums up, it breathes the spirit of the acts of the apostles. The two holy brothers lived in perfect harmony. Whatever one of them wanted, the other, even against his own preference, wanted it as well, whether it was a question of the cell or of work, of clothing, or livelihood, or prayer. If one of them expressed a desire, the other took care not to disagree with him, for the sake of brotherly love and to avoid all self-will. Reminds me of the two desert fathers who tried to start a religion. Oh, yeah. Yes. That's certainly in the back of Bruno's mind. I wouldn't be surprised if it's in the back of Bruno's mind. But, of course, this is simply an

[77:46]

image, actually, of the ideal of the Church. Together they loved God above every other good. Together they lived an orderly monastic life and gave themselves to prayer with a pure heart. And then he quotes the Acts. They were of one heart and one mind. Psalm 132. Behold how good and how pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity. So this is the way the brothers lived. It's very interesting here. Sometimes in monastic life, we all know what can go wrong and we shouldn't belabor this point, but in monastic life we can very easily fall into pettiness and get all caught up with this is not done quite right and this is not done the way it should be and so on and so on. It's not observing exactly this and that and the other. We can get very, very... Somebody once said the problem is that people come to the monastery, they put off the old man and put on the old woman.

[78:49]

Forgive the expression, but monks can be sometimes very bitchy. So that's something we should watch out for. And here you can see that they are absolutely free of this. You're absolutely free of this because they're thinking about what does brother want and what is this? Of course, this is the Acts of the Apostles, but it's also a reference to Chapter 72, the Holy Rule, the good zeal which monks ought to have. And this theme of the good zeal is something that is an undercurrent that flows through this text because it's simply the kinds of virtues which are focused upon, you know, never speaking ill of the person who is absent and never detraction. And this wanting what the other wants rather than what one's self wants. All of this is simply from the Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 72. This is Chapter 11, I believe. Chapter 11. Yes. Chapter. 11. Yes. Chapter 11. Chapter.

[79:58]

So, all saints came and went, and Barnabas did not return. Seeing their hopes dashed to pieces, they became fearful and anxious. But their fear and anxiety were only for their own and others' salvation, not for what would become of them in this world. They are full of fear, but their fear is really that they will have wasted their lives. On and on they went, tormented by thoughts that allowed them no rest. Every time they saw each other and shared their thoughts, which was always, since their love for one another made them inseparable, it was the same complaint. Why had I failed in my promise to come? And why had Barnabas not returned with the Pope's letter? And they said, all this time we have been waiting in vain. All our efforts have been wasted. We sweated over learning the Polish language so as to make it easier for the people here to understand the Gospel.

[81:02]

We threw away our razors and made ourselves miserable by letting our beards grow. We even shaved our heads. We adopted their customs and started wearing their clothing, and we hoped they would accept us as their fellow countrymen, since our external way of life was like theirs. We did all this so that we could either preach the Gospel or suffer martyrdom for Christ's sake. Yes? No, he never sees them again, but you see there were, well, there were witnesses there of the sorts of things that they said, and this is typical of, as we know, writers always would do this, you know, they would put the words on the lips of this is true in the Bible, it's true in all ancient literature, the idea of, you know, of accuracy, and our historicism is not their view of history. Let's not put it this way, it is the literary genre, however, this is true to the character and

[82:06]

personality of Benedict John, and certainly this is the sorts of things that they would have said between themselves and that Barnabas would have heard, so Bruno spoke with Barnabas, he spoke with the one of the two handymen who happened to be away and was not killed, so he spoke to those who had lived with them, and knew them, so this is simply typical of what they would have said during this time. Yeah, but he had some contacts. He had direct eyewitnesses, in other words, shortly after their martyrdom he did get to Poland, and interviewed everyone, and saw the place, and even saw the blood-stained wall and everything, and he describes it in very precise detail, so it's obvious that all of this that he has is from direct, I mean, even though it is second-hand, it's from eyewitnesses. And so the chapter on martyrdom, we're almost running out of time, but anyway. Why was this letter so important? Let me explain it.

[83:10]

It was important for them, we just say it's important for them, you see. It was important in the sense that, given the context of the times, and the concept of the Reichskirche, that the local church really belonged more to the prince than to any of the bishop or whoever, to have a letter from the Pope was to be guaranteed freedom and exemption from civil interference. Within that context, this was what the function of a letter from the Pope would have. Well, this was generally the case, you see. Generally the case. It was simply a desire to be guaranteed freedom from involvement in politics and in the whole civil question. Excuse me. Well, yes, I suppose so, but they didn't see it that way.

[84:15]

They felt that they must wait, they should not begin preaching the mission until they have this letter. So, I mean, what can I say? I don't say that this is simply the way things were in the year 1002 and it was simply the way, or 1003, and it was simply the way they saw their own situation and how it would be necessary. I'm sure, we may not feel the same way the brothers did, I'm sure the Pope today feels the same way the Popes then did. So, what can I say? No, I mean, there was a problem that the lay investiture, you know, the prince who would be the one to nominate the bishop and so forth. I mean, this did create problems and then it politicized the church, etc., which is not to totally defend the Gregorian reforms, which had,

[85:18]

which went perhaps to the other extreme. But there you are, that's history, that's the way things happen. So, anyway, they lament because it all seems to be in vain. But, but, God had no other plans. They had no way of knowing what was about to take place. There had been no word from Rome, and they'd all but lost heart, their anguished spirit groaned within them. But even if the Pope's letter had been in their hands at that very moment, the martyrdom they so ardently desired would have been no nearer. They did not know what the Lord had in store for them. For he who brings forth good from the evil deeds of men, who has promised to heed those who ask in his name, who never lies to his saints, intended to grant them their hearts' desires. And so he says that

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what they had desired to obtain by going far from their monastery was given to them at their home in the monastery. It was the dead of night, and the brothers sound asleep were resting their weary bones. The band of assassins approached, eager to commit their terrible crime. Their hearts' It's sometimes a little funny, the rhetoric he gets into here, but it's all right. Their hearts throbbed, and their passions rose. He's describing these themes. Their hearts throbbed. They're looking for the money, by the way, for Boleswap's money. This is the whole thing about the money. They thought the money was there. Actually, Benedict had returned the money to Boleswap when he couldn't finish the trip. So, their hearts throbbed, and their passions rose. Their lips trembled, their nostrils flared, and the blood raced in their veins. With quick feet, chattering teeth, hushed voices, flushed faces, sweaty palms, they brandished their weapons, greedy and eager for the easy fight, like dogs for blood or wolves for prey.

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They came with intent to do harm, but their very deed turned to the good of their victims. He's always into this theology of God working the good, the evil that creates this great good, the martyrdom. They hoped to gain something from it, but they gained nothing, for what they did was evil, very evil, in the sight of God. They came to do harm for harm's sake, and like the thief in the night, they ended the day of life for the brothers who had done no harm to anyone. Benedict had, in fact, accepted Boleswap's money, but when he saw he could not complete his journey, he returned every penny of it. All but one of the thieves were Christians. Very interesting. But even a pagan's religion would have made him hesitate to do what they were about to do. Without, you see, the Christians, you know, they say the corruption of the best is the worst kind of corruption, so here are these Christians who turn against their own kind

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of worse than the pagans. You see, the monastery was in the Christian territory. It wasn't in the pagan areas. It was in Polanyi, the region between Dniezno and Poznan, so it was in that area where there were Christians, and then the idea was, you know, be in Christian territory but move out into the pagan areas. All but one of the thieves were Christians, but even a pagan's religion would have made him hesitate to do what they were about to do. Without fear and without hesitation, these so-called Christians were ready and willing to slay good men, and they gave no thought to the Scripture which says, Do not place your hopes in iniquity, and even if riches abound, do not set your heart in them. Among the conspirators in this heinous crime, which would lead to such a precious death, was one pagan. He was to all intents and purposes their leader, and so expected a larger share of the spoils.

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He knew the brothers well, having been briefly in their service. He entered the monk's dormitory, careful to keep his weapon hidden. But before this, to overcome the fear which this unspeakable sacrilege aroused in him, he drank two goblets of strong liquor, as it were the devil's sacrament. Vodka, probably vodka, which is a Polish invention. Suddenly, the assassin appeared before the sleeping saints, a candle in his left hand, a club in his right, and a frightful look on his face. The brothers sat up in bed. They broke their silence, thinking more of unexpected guests than of anything else, since Christ was always in their hearts and upon their lips. So they don't think it. They think, oh, guests have arrived. The following is the assassin's own description of the scenes. Also, Bruno had interviewed the actual assassins, who were not put to death, because the saints—we won't get to this—the saints later appeared and gave orders to Bolesław, do not put to death

[90:32]

our murderers. You have this theme of an anti-capital punishment theme that runs through Bruno Quirt and Peter Damian also. So very interesting, some of these themes that do come out just through the in the margins of the So, anyway, here's the description of their murderer. He said, they started to whisper something to each other, but I don't know what they were saying. And then Bruno adds, could it have been the verse which is said in the monk's chapter office of great price in the sight of the Lord as the death of his saints? This was recited after the reading of the Martyrology. But in our opinion, it was probably the Confiteor, I profess to God, etc., since they were in immediate danger of dying that precious death. The repentant murderer continued his story, but I just stood there

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dead in my traps. I was going to kill them, and I was afraid of doing it. When the brothers had finished whispering to each other whatever it was they wanted to say, John spoke up. Patient brother John, who was about to be sainted as a martyr, had the better command of both Latin and Polish, and he was the one who usually answered the door when visitors arrived. My friend, he said, why have you come? What is the meaning of all these men with weapons? Astonished, the man who was about to kill him, and who now so deeply repents of the good he did by evil means, gave John this answer. Our Lord Bolesław sent us to arrest you, and he told us to show you no mercy. A smile crossed John's face. The good prince loves God and us too much for him ever to have given such orders. What use is it to lie, my son? His murderer answered, all right, we're going to kill you. That's why we're here. Saint John said, God help

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you and us. The assassin, pale with fear, drew his sword and struck John twice, adding two wounds to the third, which, though not so noble as the other two, his body already bore. This was the eye he had lost, a smallpox. Then the assassin turned to the other monks, and first among them the pearl of great price, blessed Benedict. With one blow, he split Benedict's skull, and the jets of blood colored the walls in the corner where he fell, leaving bright stains which can still be seen today. May my soul die the death of the just. This is Bruno repeating the words of Balaam the prophet. As the hour of their death drew near, the brothers' sorrow was deeper than ever before. But even the God-man himself, our redemption, our salvation, our mercy, as he approached the passion which, in his great love for us and for our salvation, he was about to suffer as a

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glorious sacrifice, declared to his disciples that he was weary and sorrowful unto death. He, the word who in the beginning already was, and who holds every living soul in his hands, to show that he was moved to compassion and was disposed to bear our sins, said, My soul is sorrowful unto death. So, we have the doctrine of the incarnation of total humanity, Christ, his passibility in which these saints participate. The same thing happened in the case of our brothers. A short time ago they were sad beyond all measure, but God, who is the holy and faithful friend of humankind, abounding in kindness and mercy, grants us in his own way much more than we can ask or even understand. The brothers were anxious to go out and seek martyrdom, but God gave it to them at home. Although it is highly dangerous to rush headlong

[94:40]

into martyrdom or to come upon it unprepared, it is safe and holy to seek it in prayer as a gift of God. A very important theological point. Martyrdom is a gift of God. It's not something that we do to ourselves. Remember the fourth temptation in the cathedral and the sermon of Archbishop Thomas. Now we come to the others. Of the two Polish brothers whom Blessed Benedict and John had trained in monastic life and received into vows, Isaac was the next to be slain. These were two blood brothers, Isaac and Matthew. There were three actually novices. The third was, of course, Barnabas, who was a priest. These two were not yet priests. But they were received into monastic life by Benedict and John. Of the two Polish brothers whom Blessed Benedict and John had trained in monastic life and received into vows, Isaac was the next to be slain.

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He was a robust fellow. I suppose he was rather stout. And he did not awake quietly like the others, but began to yell, God help! God help! I can hear the Polish. The use of the cry is very, very common in the Polish. A noble cry, according to the verse, a mighty fortress is the name of the Lord. In him the just will take refuge and be saved. Isaac stood up as if to make a prayer, and he was struck on the shins by the sword. He then raised his hands to shield his body, and they received a second merciless blow. At that moment he realized that Christ, who is the salvation of all who believe in him, was about to bestow on him at home what he had longed to find elsewhere, death by martyrdom, whereby a sinner lays aside the great weight of sin which clings so closely. Brother Isaac was filled with joy and cried out, O happy night and blessed hour, it is not our merits, it is the mercy of the Lord.

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And then he said to his assailant, May the Lord bless you for the good you are doing us. Thus Isaac fulfilled the gospel word, Bless those who persecute you and forgive them, for they know not what they do. Putting together two phrases from St. Luke. Actually from Romans in St. Luke. Having said this, Isaac received a blow on the neck and died. These words, forgiveness of enemies, is the essential thing in martyrdom. It's not being killed. It's not enough just to be killed. And not enough to be killed in odium fidei. But it is essential, absolutely essential for a martyr to forgive his killers. And this is often done previous to the martyrdom. Not only at the moment, but well in advance. Oscar, Archbishop Oscar Romero, who is for all Latin Americans and most other people a saint and a martyr, and we're just waiting for the official seal of approval to be put upon his sanctity,

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made very clear publicly, his attitude of forgiveness was very clear in his own life. When his murderers heard him bless them for all the evil they were doing, and when they beheld such goodness in the gentle and peaceful way Isaac accepted death, only then, too late, did they begin to regret their deed and feel remorse, as if to say, Woe to us, what are we doing? We came to kill them, and they rejoice at being killed. No man has ever blessed his murderers as they do, but it is too late to change our plan. We have to go through with it. We must kill them all or people will find out what we did and make us pay for it. These are the words of the murderer. Of course, he's telling the story to Bruno. The next victim was Isaac's brother Matthew. They were blood brothers, Isaac and Matthew. Terrified by what was happening, he tried to get away, but they struck him dead in front of the church, and he fell face down as if prostrate in prayer. The last to die was Christian, the monk's cook. That's his name, Christian,

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Christian. His own brother was the one who had been sent to town that evening. He took up a stick to defend himself, and he called to the brothers for help, not realizing that they could no longer hear him. Christian was an affectionate and pleasant-natured man, and since he had been generous in serving the monks, it was fitting that he, the fifth, should fall with the other four martyrs, and thus earn the favor of him from whose fifth wound flowed blood and water for our salvation and for the forgiveness of our sins. It's an interesting reference to Christ, the Incarnate One, and to the Paschal Mystery. He, the Lord, chooses to give the same wage to the last as to the first, for he is good, and by his mercy each and all will be saved, regardless of their own merits. Martyrdom, sanctity, all of this is a gift. Martyrdom, sanctity, all of this is a gift.

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