Today we celebrate St. Benedict, one of the greatest spiritual fathers of the Church—someone whose influence still ripples through Christian life more than 1,500 years later. And on this memorial, our readings couldn’t be more fitting for what Benedict teaches us about trust, perseverance, and spiritual warfare.
Let’s start with the first reading from Genesis—Jacob, now Israel, hears the Lord calling him by name: “Jacob! Jacob!” And what does he say? “Here I am.” Simple. Trusting. And then God tells him not to be afraid to go down to Egypt, even though it’s a foreign land, even though it’s going to change everything. But God says, “I will go with you.” That line is key today.
Because St. Benedict lived in a time of chaos. He was born around the year 480, just after the Roman Empire fell. Society was breaking down, cities were lawless, and Christian life was getting lost in the noise. And Benedict? He walked away from it all. Left Rome. Lived as a hermit in a cave for years. Just him and God. And over time, people started coming to him—not because he was flashy or famous—but because they saw in him someone who had peace. Stability. A heart centred on God.
He founded monasteries—most famously Monte Cassino—and wrote a little guidebook called the Rule of St. Benedict. It talks about obedience, humility, work, and prayer. In fact, his motto became: Ora et Labora—Pray and work. That’s it. Steady, daily faithfulness. Just like Jacob trusting God to lead him into Egypt.
But here’s where Benedict really connects with the Gospel today. Jesus warns the disciples: “I’m sending you out like sheep among wolves.” And He doesn’t sugar-coat it—there will be persecution, betrayal, hatred. Yet He says, “Do not worry. The Spirit will give you the words.”
Now, Benedict didn’t face courts or Roman governors like the apostles did, but he certainly knew spiritual warfare. He dealt with real attacks—not just from people, but from the enemy of our souls. There are stories from his life about monks trying to poison him, of him casting out demons, of people being healed by his prayers. He wasn’t seeking power—he was just so rooted in Christ that evil couldn’t stand being near him.
That’s why the St. Benedict Medal is so powerful. If you’ve ever seen one, it’s full of symbols and Latin inscriptions—many of them direct prayers against evil. “Vade retro Satana!”—Get behind me, Satan! The medal isn’t magic, but it’s a sacramental—a physical sign reminding us of God’s power and protection. And in exorcisms, it’s one of the most trusted spiritual tools—because Benedict’s whole life was a witness to the triumph of Christ over evil.
He’s also the patron of Europe and of monks, but more and more, he’s becoming a go-to intercessor in times of spiritual confusion and chaos. Honestly, doesn’t that sound like our world today?
So maybe the Lord is inviting us, like He did Jacob, like He did Benedict, to trust Him more deeply, to follow Him into unfamiliar or even frightening places—not on our own strength, but with the promise that He will go with us.
And maybe today we need to reclaim that spirit of Benedictine steadiness—quiet, faithful living, praying without panic, working without needing applause, turning from evil without fanfare. Because, as Psalm 37 reminds us, “The salvation of the just comes from the Lord. He is their refuge in time of distress.”
So whether you’re facing stress, spiritual attacks, or just the grind of everyday life—remember the quiet strength of St. Benedict. Root yourself in Christ. Keep praying. Keep working. And when you’re tempted to give up, just whisper: “Vade retro, Satana.” Get behind me, Satan.
And then… keep going.
St. Benedict, pray for us.
Amen.
And just before I let you go—my apologies that I won’t be able to share the usual audio version of this homily today. I’m away from my regular setup and don’t have the connection I need to record it properly. Thanks for your patience—and please know I’m with you in prayer wherever you’re tuning in from.
God bless you all.
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