Third Way: A Hopeful Example

I need hope. You probably do, too. So read on.

I find history to be a source of hope. I am going to give you an example. It is one of many that keeps me going.

In a NYT opinion piece in early 2021 the writer made the case for why 2020 might go down as one of the worst in world history.

Most historians would beg to differ. There is stiff competition for the worst year in world history.

Still, nothing seems to rival one year in the 6th century.

Yes, this is a blog about hope. Stay with me. I’ll eventually get there.

The Roman Empire dominated the Mediterranean world for centuries. But tribal migrations and invasions began to challenge the empire’s military power and cultural hegemony, precipitating its long, slow decline.

In the year 410 one of those tribes sacked Rome. Repeated incursions overwhelmed the empire. The last emperor to rule the western half was deposed in the year 476. Cities in particular suffered severe loss, including Rome, which declined to a fraction of its size over a 200 year period of time.

All this set the stage for what was to come.

In the year 536 a number of volcanos erupted in Iceland and a comet struck Australia, both of which spewed tons of ash into the atmosphere. Darkness encircled and suffocated the globe for over a year. Food production fell dramatically, further weakening an already weak population, which only made it all the more vulnerable to a plague that ravaged the Middle East and Europe in the year 540, further decimating the population. Tens of millions died from these natural disasters.

The physical suffering was incalculaby severe. But so was the psychological suffering. Instability, uncertainty, and terror drove people into dark places. The world had become violent, chaotic, and unpredictable. Culture was left in ruins.

Enter Benedict, who refused to give up and give in. He became one of the early founders of an institution that has endured to this day.

Benedict of Nursia (480-547) grew up in a wealthy Roman home. He attended school in Rome but became so disillusioned with its corruption that he withdrew into the wilderness, lived in a cave, and practiced an ascetic way of life. Word spread of his holiness, which attracted followers. But his way of life proved to be too rigorous for them. His biographer reports that they tried to poison him. Only a miracle spared his life.

He withdrew again, this time to Monte Cassino, and began to preach to the local population. Once again, he attracted followers. This time he organized them into twelve communities of twelve monks each. He clarified expectations and put them in writing, which we now know as The Rule of St. Benedict. Today it stands as one of the greatest texts produced in western civilization. (The accompanying photo is of Iona, which was started in the 6th century. Founded by Columba, it was not Benedictine but Irish.)

This little experiment—and there were others like it, though less famous—launched a movement that spread the gospel and helped stabilize European society for the next 600 years. Small and nearly invisible at first, over time it grew into a formidable institution, like new growth after a catastrophic forest fire. The movement began as little more than a sprout, but it did not remain that way for long.

It is hard for us to grasp the extent of Benedict’s influence. Monasteries multiplied, eventually dotting the landscape. Monks evangelized tribal groups, planted churches, cared for the poor, and offered myriad services. Much of what we cherish today—books and libraries, education and scholarship, art and architecture, hospitality and medical care, agricultural production and technological innovation—became the domain of monasteries. Cities often grew up around them, creating a kind of symbiotic relationship between monastery and local community.

Had we lived some 1500 years ago, we would not have taken much notice of this little experiment. There is a simple reason: we tend to focus on old ruins.

But God was at work then, during one of the worst periods—if not the worst—in world history. We are the beneficiaries of that movement, as is all of western civilization. Could it be that God is at work right now, too, calling us back to first principles, as Benedict did? We need the eyes of faith to see it.

We must look for the sprouts.