A thoughtful, real-world interpretation of the Rule of St. Benedict to guide us into a more balanced life. From informal versions of the Rule of St. Benedict to Twelve-Step groups and Weight Watchers, the basic human need for guidance and structure in the quest for wholeness is palpable and real. Out of her long experience as a spiritual director, mentor, and teacher, Margaret Guenther offers a warm and sensible guide for “the rest of us”―singles, couples, parents, extended families, members of churches―to create a helpful and balanced rule of life to help us in our search for faith. She explores ancient and contemporary meanings for the classic vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, along with the distinctively Benedictine ethos of stability and conversion, pointing out the pitfalls of each. A series of short essays follows on the different elements of a rule of life―such as authority, money, pleasure, stinginess, friends, enemies, and living through hard times. The final chapter gives practical ideas for crafting a rule of life that encourages each of us to grow, stretch, and flourish. Margaret Guenther (1929–2016) was a priest, writer, teacher, and grandmother. She was the former director of the Center for Christian Spirituality at The General Theological Seminary and an associate at St. Columba's Episcopal Church in Washington, DC. At HOME in the WORLD A Rule of Life for the Rest of Us By MARGARET GUENTHER Church Publishing, Inc. Copyright © 2006 Margaret Guenther All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-59627-026-8 Contents Part 1: Why a Rule?1. Rules, Roots, and Branches2. Preparing the VineyardPart 2: The Essentials3. Cultivating the Vines4. Under One Roof5. Both Host and Guest6. Learning from Our Enemies7. The Cultivation of Solitude8. Living in Awareness9. Hard Times10. On Common Ground11. Body and Soul12. Lifelong Learning13. Work: Promise and Peril14. The Fear of Abundance15. Loving Generosity16. Enjoying Authority17. Holding Power LightlyPart 3: Getting Started18. Building the TrellisEndnotes CHAPTER 1 Rules, Roots, and Branches When I was a small child, I knew a song from my grandparents' days: "Schooldays, school days, dear old golden rule days; reading and writing and 'rithmetictaught to the tune of a hickory stick." I liked it and disliked itsimultaneously. The tune was lilting, and the severe pedagogic regimen safely inthe past, yet the linking of the Golden Rule and that stick was too close forcomfort. In our four-room school desks were clamped to the floor in neat rows, fastenedto sturdy metal strips like miniature railroad tracks. Window shades wereimpeccably aligned—woe to the teacher whose blinds were out of sync. No talkingunless you held up your hand, no whispering, no gum-chewing, no getting up fromyour seat without permission: pencil sharpening was an exciting diversion, andan authorized trip to the basement bathroom a high point in the day. You formeda neat line to go to the playground, where boys played on one side of the squatbrick building and girls on the other. I once had to carry a message to theteacher on duty on the boys' side and felt as if I were doing somethingdangerously illicit. Would I be praised for efficient delivery of the message,or reproached for being in forbidden territory? This was not a harsh environment. The children were not struck or shouted at.All the rules were in fact reassuring, probably like the rules of a benevolentprison: you knew exactly where you were supposed to be and what you were to bedoing at any given moment. But the rules were not freely chosen by the smallinmates: they were a given, handed down by remote authorities. Spontaneity hadno place, nor did exuberant creativity. Who knows what might have happened ifsome rampaging free spirit had tried to blossom among us docile children in the1930s in the neighborhood called Rosedale? Rules—they structure and punctuate our lives. There is the rule of the road andthe rule of law. There are rules of grammar, happily ignored by many. Somerulers are heads of state; some are twelve-inch strips of wood or plastic tuckedin the middle desk drawer. There are even three saints named "Rule." My favoriteis St. Regula, martyred in 302 and now remembered as one of the patrons ofhyper-Protestant Zurich. Beheaded, she carried her severed head to an ancientchurch on the riverbank, where she deposited it to mark one of the futurecornerstones. St. Rule was an obscure fourth-century Scottish saint reputed tohave brought relics of St. Andrew to Scotland. He is not to be confused with St.Regulus of Senlis—I haven't managed to find out who he was. Nor have I found anyindication of how these saints got their names. Were they sticklers for doingthings decently and in order, or did they compose rules for their communities?Or were they stragglers and underachievers who needed the structure of a rule tohold them up? Not long ago, looking for something else, I found a folder labeled "Rule" in