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I first read Oblation: Mediations on St. Benedict’s Rule by Rachel
Srubas wedged into a crowded Greyhound bus on a rainy Easter Sunday afternoon.
Though that may not have been the ideal setting for a good spiritual read (nor
probably where the author anticipated it would be read), it was actually quite
lovely. It is advantageous, when reading this text, to have time to look off
and think, and to be surrounded by very human faces about which to ponder. Come
to think of it, that may be exactly what the author intended.
In this small volume Srubas presents the reader with the resuits of her
“scriptio divina”: poem-meditations on most of the chapters of the Rule of
Benedict. She calls it, in the preface, “a cliary of Benedictine prayers”
composed in response to her reading of the Rule. The “oblation” of the title
refers not to the liturgical act of oblation (though Srubas is an oblate of the
Benedictine Sisters of Perpetual Adoration in Tucson and a Presbyterian clergy.
woman) but to her concept of these prayers as an offering to God and to the
wider Christian community. A preface and introduction explain both the writer’s
personal history and the process through which the book came to be. Each
reflection roots itself in a chapter from the Rule, specifically a verse or two
from Patrick Barry’s translation. Understandably some chapters are combined
(e.g., 23.30 on the penal code) and some are expanded (each step of humility
merits its own poem).
The book possesses several strengths. Srubas’ idea of writing as a valuable
tool in engaging with sacred texts could easily be a jumping-off place for
monastic ongoing formation committees, oblate groups, or parish adult education
programs. Her articulation that her poems are “responses to” the Rule, not
“translations of,” is appreciated for its respect for Benedict’s text and the
tradition of scholarly interpretation.
And, most importantly, some of the poems hit those truths about how God is, and
how we do—or do not—respond. Her reflection on chapter 43, “Lateness for the
Work of God or in the Refectory,” packs a delicious moment of self-recognition
for most of us. I think:
A singular, demanding note,
the bell of disciplined devotion,
intervenes in the day. Didn’t I already pray?
What more is there to say, so soon?
As poetry, the pieces are somewhat uneven, and not all may ring true to
experiences of Benedictine life. But, of course, they’re not meant to. They are
one person’s meditations. One of the gifts of the text may be to drive the
reader to pick up pencil and paper and name her or his response to the
particular chapter, especially if it’s significantly different from the author’s.
So whether one picks up Oblation: Meditations on St. Benedzct’s Rule on
a Greyhound bus or in a choir stall, in solitude or the company of others, it
is a worthwhile endeavor. The book is yet another vehicle on the ever-expanding
landscape of ways to encounter the Rule of Benedict.
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