The Practice of Prayer in Early and Medieval Monasticism

By D. Jeffrey Bingham

[D. Jeffrey Bingham is Research Professor of Historical Theology, Dallas Theological Seminary, Dallas, Texas.]

Christians have often been nurtured by reflecting on the ways believers before them have sought to maintain an effective prayer life. A brief survey of prayer in monasticism can be another means of encouraging believers today to maintain an active prayer life in the pursuit of godly living.

A true monk embraced a vision of the spiritual life in anticipation of the life to come. It was a life lived in tension between temporary existence in the present world and an indifference toward it.[1] He envisioned himself dead to the world, a despiser of earthly things, and sought to serve the earthly community by his vision and to set standards for it. The monastic way of life was intended to create conditions under which monks could live in accord with the Lord’s teaching to His disciples. Jesus’ words on prayer, such as Luke 18:1, “They should always pray and not give up,”[2] and other scriptural commands concerning prayer were foremost in their minds. This emphasis appears very early in the monastic tradition. Athanasius of Alexandria wrote that Antony “prayed often, for he had learned that one should pray to the Lord without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:17).[3] Similarly Bernard of Clairvaux wrote, “We must not devote ourselves to prayer once or twice, but frequently, diligently, letting God know the longings of our hearts and letting him hear, at times, the voice of our mouth. This is why it is said, ‘Let your petitions be made known to God’ (Phil. 4:6), which happens as a result of persistence and diligence in prayer.”[4]

The populace valued the monks’ lifestyle. Through the intercessory prayer of a monk the people embraced the words of James 5:16, “The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.” For instance in a letter to the abbot Hugo of Cluny, Henry III petitioned Hugo to become his son’s godfather: “Which man who knows the right way would not hope for your prayers and those of your monks? Who would not strive to hold fast to the indissoluble bond of your love, you whose prayer is all the purer in that it is remote from worldly deed, all the worthier in that it is near to God’s sight?”[5]

People sought the prayer support of the monks because of the confidence and peace they had as a result of sharing their needs. Intercessory prayer was central to the monks’ ministry. In this way they ministered to the community and carried out part of their pastoral service. And service was part of the monk’s focus.

An Irishman’s wife of the sixth century had taken an aversion to her husband (probably for good reason). When she went to the monk Columba for counsel, he reminded her of the Bible’s teaching on the permanence of marriage. She said, “I am ready to do everything … except live with him.” She said she would be faithful to her domestic responsibilities, and would even be willing to live in a convent. But she would not dwell with that man another minute! The wise Columba replied that a convent was out of the question so long as her husband was alive. “But,” he added, “let us fast and pray—you, your husband, and myself.” “Oh,” said the woman, “I know that you can obtain even what is impossible from God.” All three then fasted, and Columba spent the entire night alert and awake in prayer. The next morning he gently approached the woman and with tender irony asked her to which convent she had decided to flee. “To none,” she replied. “My heart has been changed tonight. I know not how I have passed from hate to love.” From that day on she lived with her husband lovingly and faithfully.[6]

The monks’ daily routine included many scheduled times of prayer; the first time was at dawn. Their prayers demonstrated a deep dependence on God’s grace, a confession of their mortality, and a healthy fear of sin. An old English liturgy from around the tenth century reflects on the light of each new day and expresses an overwhelming concern for purity. “In the first hour of the day, that is, at the sun’s rising, we should praise God and eagerly pray him that he, out of his tenderness of heart, illumine our hearts with the illumination of the true Sun—that is, that he by his grace so illumine our inward thought that the devil may not through harmful darkness lead us astray from the right path nor too much impede us with the snares of sin. Be, Lord God, a noble helpmate; look, Lord, upon me, and help me quickly then in my mortal need.”[7]

Such a beginning to each new day has scriptural support. David and the sons of Korah did something similar: “Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing. Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation” (Ps. 5:1–3). “But I cry to you for help, O Lord; in the morning my prayer comes before you” (88:13).

Features of Monastic Prayer

From Scripture the monks of early and medieval monasticism determined that their prayers should be pure, brief, frequent, and nurtured through the reading of Scripture. Since even in a monastery (let alone the rat race of the twenty-first century) distractions could be frequent (interruptions, wandering of the mind, worries, drowsiness), prayers that were offered alone or were in common with other monks were to be short in duration. The Rule of Saint Benedict states, “We are not to imagine that our prayers shall be heard because we use many words, but because the heart is pure and the spirit penitent. Therefore prayer must be short and pure, unless a feeling of divine inspiration prolong it. Prayer in common ought always be short, and when the sign is given by the superior [abbot], all should rise together.”[8]

This calls to mind Jesus’ words in Matthew 6:7–8: “And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” The monks’ belief that prayer was to be simple and short helped prevent their praying from becoming meaningless periods that went on and on and in which their thoughts drifted. This was taken very seriously, for human frailty is a constant threat to purity in prayer. The monk had to know his weaknesses so as not to abuse the sacred trust of prayer. Columbanus, an Irish monk who ministered in France and Italy during the late sixth and early seventh centuries, gave this advice: “The authentic tradition concerning prayer is that the possibilities of the man consecrated to this work be fulfilled without his getting tired of it. One must keep in mind his possibilities, as well as his mental powers and physical condition. His limitations must be taken into consideration and his possibilities realized according as the measure or fervor of each one requires.”[9]

Commenting on The Rule of St. Benedict, Hildemar wrote that “we ought to remain recollected in prayer only during the time that we can, by God’s help, remain free of vain thoughts. As soon as we realize that we are being overcome by temptations, and that we do not find delight in prayer, we should arise and return to reading or the recitation of the Psalter or to work.”[10] The monks held that attentiveness was crucial to holy prayer.

Holy praying focused on eternal matters, on others, on God’s thoughts. An Egyptian abbot, Isaac, said, “The author of eternity would have us ask nothing ephemeral, nothing paltry, nothing transient. He who neglects these petitions for eternity and prefers to ask for the evanescent, insults the generous majesty of God; meanness in prayer offends the judge instead of propitiating him.”[11] Unceasing prayer, then, was not just constant praying. It meant godly requests from a pure heart.

The Pastoral Prayer of Aelred, abbot of the Christian Abbey of Rievaulx in Northumbria (around a.d. 1150), is such a prayer. It focused on the eternal. As leader of the monastery, Aelred was awed by the responsibility and humbled by his office. He referred to himself as a “wretchful, unfit bungler of a shepherd,” contrasting himself with Jesus, “O good shepherd” (John 10:11, 14). He puzzled over why God had placed him as abbot, and before he dared to pray for those under his care, he confessed his sins, which confession he called a “sacrifice of prayer.” Scarred from past sins, guilty of pres-ent iniquity, and certain of future failures, all of which he knew God saw, he uttered quietly and confidently, “Look well at me, sweet Lord, look well. I place my hope in your compassion.” Glancing back at Solomon’s prayer in 2 Chronicles 1:10, where David’s son prayed not for riches but for wisdom to rule, Aelred pleaded to God for wisdom, saying, “Send her [wisdom] forth, O fount of wisdom, from the throne of your glory that she may … order the thoughts and words and all my deeds and counsel.”

Aelred told the Lord that he wished to “be holy and utterly employed and expended” for those under his care. Here was a man consumed with his pastoral charge. He then asked to be taught by the Holy Spirit in the following areas: being patient with the frail; sympathizing kindly; supporting tactfully; consoling the sad; strengthening the fainthearted; raising the fallen; being weak with the weak; indignant with those who have been scandalized; chiding the restless; comforting the timid; sustaining the weak; adapting himself to various temperaments, characters, feelings, and degrees of intelligence or simplicity; and speaking words that will build up in faith, hope, love, sexual purity, humility, patience, and obedience (1 Cor. 9:22; 13:13; 2 Cor. 11:29; Eph. 4:29).

In the final part of his prayer Aelred asked God to unify those under his charge in peace, to build them up in faith, to strengthen them against temptation and trial, and to free them from vices that would deter them from faithfulness (Matt. 6:13; Eph. 4:3; 5:3). Near the end of his prayer he said warmly, “You know, sweet Lord, how much I love them, how my heart goes out to them and melts for them.” Here is a shepherd after the Shepherd’s own heart, one consumed with the Christian growth of his charges, their life in the Spirit. He closed by petitioning the Lord to “cheer the depressed, fan the lukewarm into flame, and reinforce the wavering.”[12]

Another stunning example is one of Anselm’s prayers, in which he prayed for his enemies. Besides praying the words of Scripture, he also prayed, as Scripture commanded him to pray, after the words of Jesus, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven” (Matt. 5:43–45). His prayer for those who had persecuted him reflects his mature Christian heart: a heart that admitted its tendency to hate in return, a heart that needed the intervention of God to love, that sought eternal blessings for his foes, that recognized its own scandalous nature.

I can begin nothing good without you,
neither can I bring anything to fruition
nor maintain it, without you… .

You, who are true light, lighten their darkness;
You, who are whole truth, correct their errors;
You, who are true life, give life to their souls… .

Tender Lord Jesus,
let me not be the cause of the death of my brothers,
let me not be to them
a stone of stumbling and a rock of offense.
For it is more than enough, Lord,
that I should be a scandal to myself,
my sin is sufficient to me.[13]

First Thessalonians 5:17 and 1 Timothy 2:8 go together, as Isaac affirmed: “St. Paul’s words were: ‘Pray without ceasing,’ and ‘In every place lifting up pure hands without wrath and controversy.’ To obey this is impossible, unless the mind is purified from sin, is given to virtue as its natural good, and is continually nourished by the contemplation of God.’”[14] And again he wrote, “He prays too little, who only prays when he is on his knees. But he never prays, who while on his knees is in his heart roaming far afield.”[15]

Besides being brief, attentive, and pure, the monks’ prayers were to be frequent. Like studying for an examination or memorizing a poem, many short, concentrated periods are better than a few drawn-out disjointed ones. Though these dedicated men prayed short prayers, they prayed many times each day. Their praying was “without ceasing,” that is, frequent. Prayer at the first hour (6:00 A.M.), was followed by prayer at nine o’clock, noon, and three o’clock, at which times they interrupted their labor, and then evening prayer. It was not unusual, however, for monks, after what they understood as the manner of David (Ps. 119:164), to pray seven times in each twenty-four-hour period. This would include the middle of the night and before dawn, in addition to the other five times mentioned. Prayer, of course, also accompanied work, meals, and the weekly, longer liturgical services. “Pray without ceasing,” then, also meant praying continually in every daily activity. Douglas Burton-Christie relates a wonderful story from the early desert monks.

This story concerns some Euchites [a heretical sect], who went to see Abba Lucious. When Lucious asked them about their work, they replied, “We do not touch manual work but as the Apostle says, we pray without ceasing” (1 Thess 5:17). Lucious was dubious about this reply and pressed his visitors to elaborate. He asked them whether they ever ate or slept. They replied that they did. Lucious then asked how they prayed when they were eating or sleeping, but they could not find an answer to give him. Seeing this, he said to them, in language which expressed the depth of their misunderstanding of the biblical text, “Forgive me but you do not act as you speak.” Lucious then proceeded to show them how, while doing his manual work, he prayed without ceasing. He told them: “I sit down with God, soaking my reeds and plaiting my ropes and saying to God, ‘have mercy on me … save me from my sins.’ ”[16]

Bible Reading and Meditation

Monastic prayer life was closely associated with the reading of the Bible. For many monks it was difficult to separate the two, for prayer was prayerful reading. In this spirit Arnoul of Bohériss wrote, “When he reads, let him seek for savor, not science. The Holy Scripture is the well of Jacob from which the waters are drawn which will be poured out later in prayer. Thus there will be no need to go to the oratory [spoken prayer] to begin to pray; but in reading itself, means will be found for prayer and contemplation.”[17]

Reading the Bible encouraged prayer, nurtured sacred thinking, and helped the monks think correctly about God and themselves. Fragmenting one’s devotional life into separate functions, such as Bible study time, meditation, and prayer time, are largely modern inventions. Monks wed them as different aspects of one act. In his worshipful theological work Meditation on Human Redemption, Anselm (1033–1109) wrote, “Consider again the strength of your salvation and where it is found. Meditate upon it, delight in the contemplation of it. Shake off your lethargy and set your mind to thinking over these things. Taste the goodness of your Redeemer, be on fire with love for your Savior. Chew the honeycomb of his words, suck their flavor which is sweeter than sap, swallow their wholesome sweetness. Chew by thinking, suck by understanding, swallow by loving and rejoicing. Be glad to chew, be thankful to suck, rejoice to swallow.”[18]

For Anselm, sacred reading was “an action of the whole person, by which the meaning of a text was absorbed, until it became prayer.”[19] Reading the Bible in prayer involved what the monks often spoke of as rumination: a meditative, reflective thinking or contemplation. So deep and thorough was the rumination of some monks, that they memorized great portions of the Bible. One such monk was Antony of Padua of the thirteenth century. He was said to have known almost the entire Bible by heart. This ability caused Gregory IX to refer to him as “the ark of the covenant.” By that, he meant that much as the ark held the tablets of the Law of Moses, Antony retained “the whole of Scripture in his memory.”[20]

The Book of Psalms was especially attractive to the monks, although they were not hesitant to read all the Scriptures and commentaries on them. Through such contemplative reading their prayers ultimately became citations or paraphrases of Scripture and through memorization unceasing prayer became more possible. Their mouths uttered and their minds presented to God what was in their hearts. It was not enough simply to keep the appointed times of prayer as Epiphanius the Bishop of Cyprus relates: “The true monk should have prayer and psalmody continually in his heart.”[21] For this reason memorization of the Psalter was a regular requirement of monastic life.[22] Recitation of the Psalms to aid prayer could reach astounding measures with a few monks reciting the entire Psalter. Such recitation helped unite the heart, tongue, and mind in prayer. The Scriptures were the fountain of all practice for the monks and supplied every avenue to spirituality. Epiphanius stated that “ignorance of the Scriptures is a precipice and a deep abyss,” and Antony encouraged every monk to heed this teaching: “whatever you do, do it according to the testimony of the holy Scriptures.”[23] Reading, memorizing, and reciting the Scriptures helped monks maintain purity in prayer, for as they prayed after the mind of God they began to “own” the biblical revelation and to utter it back to God.

Three phases were involved in monastic prayer and Bible reading.[24] The first was lectio, or “reading.” This practice was devoted to the reading of Scripture or helpful explanations of it. Joined to the first phase is the second, meditatio, or “meditation.” How one reads is critical to both lectio and meditatio. Seeing the words on the page is not sufficient. One must pronounce the words, thus focusing mind and body on what is read. Thus when the monks spoke of “hearing” the Scriptures, this did not mean silent reading. Instead, it emphasized vocal recitation. This repeated recitation helped the monks memorize the Bible and internalize its truths. “There shall be no one whatever in the monastery who does not learn to read and does not memorize something of the Scriptures. [One should learn by heart] at least the New Testament and the Psalter.”[25] “Let us devote ourselves to reading and learning the Scriptures, reciting them continually, aware of the text, ‘A man shall be filled with the fruit of his own mouth’ (Prov. 13:2)…. Consider by how many testimonies the word of the Lord urges us to recite the Holy Scriptures that we may possess through faith what we have repeated with our mouth.”[26]

The third phase, based on the first two, is oratio, “prayer.”

Reading and meditation must lead to prayerful response. Apart from prayer, reading and meditation were inadequate. Lectio and meditatio are slow, reflective, and repetitive. The monks followed Jesus’ own pattern of repetition in prayer also (Matt. 26:44), as the words of Scripture informed and even became their own prayer. Leclercq wrote that monastic prayer was “our placing our voice in harmony with the voice of God in the Church and in ourselves, in harmonizing our voice with his.”[27] This happens only as prayer accompanies the reading of and meditation on the Bible.

A premier example of this is in Anselm’s Prayer to Christ, which includes echoes of several psalms.

Most kind lover of men, “the poor commits himself to you,
for you are the helper of the orphan” [Ps. 10:14].
My most safe helper, have mercy upon the orphan left to you.
I am become a child without a father; my soul is like a widow… .
“My soul thirsts for you, my flesh longs after you” [Ps. 63:1; cf. 42:2].
My soul thirsts for God, the fountain of life;
“when shall I come to appear before the presence of God?” [Ps. 42:2].
My consolor, for whom I wait, when will you come?
O that I might see the joy that I desire;
that I might be satisfied with the appearing of your
glory for which I hunger;
that I might be satisfied with the riches of your
house for which I sigh;
that I might drink of the torrent of your pleasures
for which I thirst [Ps. 36:8].[28]

The language of Scripture had become Anselm’s prayer language. He had assimilated God’s Word into his very speech; his mind was so saturated with it that he spoke back to God what God had spoken to him.

Intimacy, Doctrine, and Godly Awareness

Three other aspects of the prayer life of monks may be noted.

First, the monks viewed prayer as the treasured occasion of being humbly and gratefully the loved creature before the Creator. Prayer was something desired, something that demanded the closing of some doors in order to open the door into prayer. Prayer desperately sought intimacy with God; and prayer began with confession of sin and finiteness and moved into a humble confidence about God’s infiniteness and mercy. This desire for intimacy with God was beautifully expressed by Anselm.

Come now, little man,
turn aside for a while from your daily employment,
escape for a moment from the tumult of your thoughts.
Put aside your weighty cares, let your burdensome distractions wait,
free yourself awhile for God and rest awhile in him.
[Your servant] longs to see you,
but your countenance is too far away… .
How wretched is the fate of man
when he lost that for which he was created… .
Adam [before the Fall] was so full he belched, we are
so hungry we sigh;
he had abundance, and we go begging… .

Alas, I am indeed wretched, one of those wretched sons of Eve,
separated from God! …
Lord, I am so bent I can only look downwards,
raise me, that I may look upwards.
My iniquities have gone over my head,
they cover me and weigh me down like a heavy burden… .

Ah, from what generous love and loving generosity
compassion follows out to us!
Ah, what feelings of love should we sinners have
towards the unbounded goodness of God! …
I was seeking God, and I have found that he is above all things,
and that than which nothing greater can be thought.[29]

Second, Anselm and many others made hardly any distinction between a robust theology and devotion, between head and heart, doctrine and practical piety, knowledge and prayer. The prayers of earlier monks were nurtured on and reflected a foundation of definite belief in orthodox doctrines. One who prayed purely did not merely pray with sentimentality. Prayer was not an occasion for informality with the Judge and Creator of the universe. One was obligated to believe correctly about God and His relationship to creation. Such belief, then, was to find expression in theologically correct prayer. Purity in prayer began with believing the theology held and taught by the church. Prayer was an opportunity to enter into a deeper understanding of the church’s faith. Interestingly two of Anselm’s greatest theological treatises, Meditation on Human Redemption and Proslogion, are prayers. The following tender but profound words reflect on the mysterious death of Christ.

There is something mysterious in this abjection. O hidden strength: a man hangs on a cross and lifts the load of eternal death from the human race; a man nailed to wood looses the bonds of everlasting death that hold fast the world. O hidden power: a man condemned with thieves saves men condemned with devils, a man stretched out on the gibbet draws all men to himself. O mysterious strength: one soul coming forth from torment draws countless souls with him out of hell, a man submits to the death of the body and destroys the death of souls…. See, Christian soul, here is the strength of your salvation, here is the cause of your freedom, here is the price of your redemption. You were a bond-slave and by this man you are free. By him you are brought back from exile, lost, you are restored, dead, you are raised.[30]

Third, prayer was an enduring awareness of God. It might await set times for communal or private expression, but it was ultimately a constant discipline of meditation on one’s finitude in light of God’s immensity. To aid this enduring awareness, some monks adopted biblical texts that expressed their state in numerous specific instances. Abbot Isaac was one of these. Psalm 70:1, “O God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me,” was for him a text which fit “every mood and temper of human nature, every temptation, every circumstance. It contains an invocation of God, a humble confession of faith, a reverent watchfulness, a meditation upon our frailty, a confidence in God’s answer, an assurance of his ever-present support. The man who continually invokes God as his guardian, is aware that he is continually at hand.”[31] Each believer needed to cling to this passage. When one felt gluttonous, when one was weak about reading the Bible, when a sudden temptation came softly, when anger welled up, when pride crept in, when wandering thoughts interrupted prayer, when one thought stumbling was unlikely, the prayer must be sincerely spoken.[32]

Eadmer wrote that Anselm’s prayers were written to benefit others in their prayer lives. This monk, who was also a theologian, delivered his prayers to help the people enter into transforming conversations with Almighty God. As Eadmer expressed it, “I hope that [the reader’s] heart will be touched and that he will feel the benefit of them [the prayers] and rejoice in them and for them.”[33]

Notes

1. On this topic in the Middle Ages see Gerd Tellenbach, The Church in Western Europe from the Tenth to the Early Twelfth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 101–7; John Leclercq, “Ways of Prayer and Contemplation: II. Western,” in Christian Spirituality: Origins to the Twelfth Century, ed. Bernard McGinn, John Meyendorff, and John Leclercq (New York: Crossroad, 1996), 415–26; and Benedicta Ward, “Mysticism and Devotion in the Middle Ages,” in Companion Encyclopedia of Theology, ed. Peter Byrne and Leslie Houlden (New York: Routledge, 1995), 558–75. For introductions on monasticism see David Knowles, Christian Monasticism (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969); Clifford Hugh Lawrence, Medieval Monasticism: Forms of Religious Life in Western Europe in the Middle Ages, 2d ed. (London: Longman, 1989); Lowrie J. Daly, Benedictine Monasticism: Its Formation and Development through the 12th Century (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1965); James E. Goehring, “Monasticism,” in Encyclopedia of Early Christianity, 2d ed., ed. Everett Ferguson (New York: Garland, 1997), 769–74.
2. Unless noted otherwise, all quotations of Scripture are from the New International Version.
3. Athanasius of Alexandria, Life of Antony, 3, Early Christian Lives, ed. and trans. Carolinne White (London: Penguin, 1998), 10.
4. Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermon on Advent, 9, quoted in Leclercq, “Ways of Prayer and Contemplation,” 423.
5. Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Diplomata, Henry III, no. 263, quoted in Tellenbach, The Church in Western Europe, 107.
6. Sabine Baring-Gould, The Lives of the Saints (June), 2d ed. (London: John Hodges, 1874), 120.
7. The Old English Benedictine Office, in Anglo-Saxon Poetry, trans. and ed. S. A. J. Bradley (London: Everyman’s Library, 1997), 539.
8. The Rule of Saint Benedict, 20, in Western Asceticism, Library of Christian Classics, ed. Owen Chadwick (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1958), 309–10.
9. Sancti Columbani Opera, ed. G. S. M. Walker (Dublin: Institute for Advanced Studies, 1957), quoted in John Leclercq, “Liturgy and Contemplation,” Monastic Studies 10 (1974): 82. See also John Leclercq, “Meditation as Biblical Reading,” Worship 33 (1959): 564.
10. Hildemar, Expositio in Regulam S. Benedicti, 20, quoted in Leclercq, “Liturgy and Contemplation,” 82; cf. Leclercq, “Meditation as Biblical Reading,” 565.
11. Cassian, Conferences, 9.24, in Chadwick, Western Asceticism, 226.
12. Aelred of Rievaulx, Pastoral Prayer, in The Cistercian World:Monastic Writings of the Twelfth Century (London: Penguin, 1993), 194–98.
13. Anselm, Prayer for Enemies, 16–18, 37–39, 46–52, in Prayers and Meditations of Saint Anselm with the Proslogion, trans. Benedicta Ward (London: Penguin, 1973), 216–17.
14. Cassian, Conferences, 9.3, in Chadwick, Western Asceticism, 215.
15. Cassian, Conferences, 10.14, in ibid., 245.
16. Douglas Burton-Christie, The Word in the Desert: Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in Early Christian Monasticism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 163–64, relating Lucious 1.
17. Arnoul of Bohériss, Speculum Monachorum, 1, quoted in John Leclercq, The Love and Learning and the Desire for God: A Study of Monastic Culture, trans. Catharine Misrahi (New York: Fordham University Press, 1982), 73.
18. Anselm, Meditation on Human Redemption, 4–12, in Prayers and Meditations of Saint Anselm, 230.
19. Benedicta Ward, “Introduction,” in Prayers and Meditations of Saint Anselm, 43–44.
20. Antony of Padua, quoted in Sabine Baring-Gould, The Lives of the Saints (June), 184.
21. Sayings of the Fathers, Epiphanius 3, in The Desert Christian: Sayings of the Desert Fathers, trans. Benedicta Ward (New York: Macmillan, 1975), 57.
22. See J. Dyer, “The Psalms in Monastic Prayer,” in The Place of the Psalms in the Intellectual Culture of the Middle Ages, ed. Nancy van Deusen (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1999), 59–89.
23. Sayings of the Fathers, Epiphanius 11 and Antony 3, in The Desert Christian, 58.
24. Leclercq, “Liturgy and Contemplation,” 80–84.
25. Rules of Pachomias, 2.166, quoted in William A. Graham, Beyond the Written Word (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 130.
26. Rules of Pachomius, 3.210, quoted in ibid.
27. Leclercq, “Liturgy and Contemplation,” 86.
28. Anselm, Prayer to Christ, 158–81, in Prayers and Meditations of Saint Anselm, 98.
29. Anselm, Proslogion, 1.1-7, 35–46, 50–51, 65–66, 86–88, 126–29; 9.332-35; 14. 456–58, in Prayers and Meditations of Saint Anselm, 239–43, 250, 255.
30. Anselm, Meditation on Human Redemption, 25–33, 163–67, in ibid., 230–31, 234.
31. Cassian, Conferences, 10.10, in Chadwick, Western Asceticism, 240.
32. Ibid., 240-43.
33. Eadmar, The Life of Saint Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, ed. and trans. Richard W. Southern (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962), 14.