by Brandon Beck

On April 6, 2017, The Recovery Ministries of the Episcopal Church (RMEC) blog “Through the Red Door” entry (page 20, “I am not alone”) says, “My addictions served to hide me from myself. I practice sobriety in order to be authentic and to live a liberated life of love of self and others.” That entry begins by citing Romans 7:15-25, Paul’s “I do not do what I want” declaration, a powerful statement for Christians in recovery (and the rest of the Church) – one that can do as much harm as it does good.

Connecting this Pauline thought to recovery can be harmful by centering the idea that the person in recovery penitentially bears the burden of their “hurts, habits, and hangups.” (These are semiotic descriptors from Celebrate Recovery.) In addition, these words of Paul uphold an idea that we are powerless over our behavior.

I don’t believe that either of those thoughts is good, true, or beautiful. But the young author of that blog article thought so; he wrote:

[M]y personality problem wasn’t solved by going on the wagon or taking [a] pledge, but I’m glad that it wasn’t. Those defects of character challenge me every day to seek Christ more, and they have driven me to listen to others carefully and critically in order to discern who I am in Christ and what paths I might take to get closer [to God]. [my emphasis]

Six years later as I re-read these words I wrote for RMEC (yes, I wrote the above-referenced article), I know that I have been “falling upward,” as Fr. Richard Rohr would say, and I enjoy that feeling. I have not done this alone. I am glad that others help me regulate. And being in conversation with God and God’s people gives me the strength to abstain from so many things with which I used to engage that harmed my relationships with others. I’m grateful for people whose gifts differ from mine, who can use them assertively to teach me a way that might be better than that which I tried already. I am empowered by these siblings to use my gifts to achieve all to which I am called. I fall upward more readily when empowered by this communion of others.

The Rule of St. Benedict (RSB) persists as a model guideline for community living, partly because it takes into account the diversity of needs of people of all ages and personalities and physicalities and so much more. (See excerpt below.) It also is flexible, noticing that you can’t tell what’s going to happen from time to time and situation to situation and person to person. RSB carries great wisdom in its flexibility; its “if-then” logic shows a “falling upward” insight that still benefits us some 1500 years later. This “if-then” logic equals The Way of Jesus, The Way of Love; I reframe 1 Cor 7:7, Benedict’s opening of RSB Chapter 40 (italics above)–“everyone has their own gift from God, one in this way and another in that” as “everyone has their own [needs], one in this way and another in that.”

In RSB, Chapter 40 (below), Benedict teaches sobriety to the men he had gathered together in communal living groups for work and prayer (ora et labora) near Subiaco, Italy, in the late 400s and early 500s. In 516, he wrote the RSB to help these men learn more about living in community and what Fr. Richard Rohr has come to call “falling upward” together.

This Chapter 40 isn’t about recovery and sobriety as we know it, yet it still applies in some modified ways. Wine is no longer a drink we use for sustenance, nor a drink we use to purify non-potable water. Yet, Benedict has wisdom even for those of us who seek to work and pray together where our strengths and weaknesses differ, especially where intoxicating substances are concerned. “We regulate each other…” “…no occasion for surfeit or drunkenness…” “…drink sparingly and not to satiety…” “…abstain from murmuring.”

These are not tasks for people with “hurts, habits, and hangups” only. (Side note – we ALL have “hurts, habits, and hangups.”)

These are not tasks just for people who are sinful and powerless. (Side note – if your theology is Pauline, we ALL are sinful and powerless.)

These are not tasks simply written to the ones who are separate because they have defects of character. (Side note – if you think that people in recovery are defective, take a look at the log in your own eye.)

These are tasks for everyone in the community, the Church, the world: regulate each other with love; no occasion for drunkenness; drink sparingly; abstain from murmuring; everyone has their own gift/need. This is the Way of Love. If you love God, then you love your neighbor – as they are, not as you would have them.

Much of what I wrote in 2017 for RMEC is still true to my view of myself and my recovery practice; much has also changed since. As I lean into studies of gnostic texts and contemplative prayer with The OOOW and reorder my hierarchy of values and as I build a family and discern an ordained vocation, my recovery practice looks more monastic and also incorporates more of outward work and prayer with and for others. I follow a daily office pattern, using contemplative and lectio divina prayer groups rather than 12-step groups for community and regulatory accountability. I take action to create and sustain recovery ministry outreach programs and provide lay pastoral care at my home church. I invite, welcome, and connect newcomers to church, seeking to connect not just my own but also the newcomers’ deep gladness with first our parish’s, then the community’s, then the world’s deep need (Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking, 1993).

We might feel alone sometimes as we seek to find answers to the perennial questions of “Why am I?” And “Where did I come from?” And “What am I doing here?” And “Where am I going?” But the truth is, we’re never alone. We have guides and companions journeying with us. We can all fall upward, actively be in recovery, be monastics, Walk in Love.

Go forth. Be kind. You are Love(d).

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From the Rule of St. Benedict:

"Everyone has her own gift from God,
one in this way and another in that" (1 Cor. 7:7).
It is therefore with some misgiving
that we regulate the measure of others' sustenance.
Nevertheless, keeping in view the needs of the weak,
we believe that a hemina of wine a day is sufficient for each.
But those to whom God gives the strength to abstain
should know that they will receive a special reward.

If the circumstances of the place,
or the work
or the heat of summer
require a greater measure,
the superior shall use her judgment in the matter,
taking care always
that there be no occasion for surfeit or drunkenness.
We read
it is true,
that wine is by no means a drink for monastics;
but since the monastics of our day cannot be persuaded of this
let us at least agree to drink sparingly and not to satiety,
because "wine makes even the wise fall away" (Eccles. 19:2).

But where the circumstances of the place are such
that not even the measure prescribed above can be supplied,
but much less or none at all,
let those who live there bless God and not murmur.
Above all things do we give this admonition,
that they abstain from murmuring.
–Chapter 40: On the Measure of Drink

The Rule of Saint Benedict, translated from the Latin by Leonard J. Doyle OblSB, with introduction by Rev. David W. Cotter

Adapted for use at the archived OSB website with the division into sense lines for public reading of the first edition that was republished in 2001 to mark the 75th anniversary of Liturgical Press. Hardcover and paperback editions of Doyle’s translation are available. Even chapters adapted for women; odd chapters for men.