One monastery I visited last summer had a dog, and when the bell was rung the dog would bark. Ring-ring-ring would go the bell, and the dog howled and barked along. What the bell and the dog were saying is "Stop what you are doing and come to prayer." That bell is a regular reminder, marking the hours and times and drawing the community back together. The days, there, follow a routine and schedule with things happening at particular hours and times. I heard one young novice, who hadn’t made his final vows yet, say that if he joined the monastery he knew what he would be doing on a Friday afternoon 20 years from now.

Chapter 41 of the Rule of St. Benedict describes part of the daily routine, particularly when the community is to eat. Most wouldn’t guess that this is usually important, but Benedict understands that having a clear schedule on when the community eats is part of the important work they do. Benedict says the meals should be arranged in “such a way that souls may be saved and that the brethren may do their work without just cause for murmuring.” Taking away anxiety over when the food is served helps the community focus their lives on prayer.

I love a routine. Most of my days follow a regular schedule. There’s a place for spontaneity, too, to chuck the schedule and do something unexpected. Most experiences of hospitality, as well, throw us off our routines when a guest comes unexpected. When I can, though, I try to focus my day so I have space to do what I want at a particular time. This isn’t a cold, boring way to live; it’s a way of arranging things so there is time for all I hope for in a day. Choosing when to eat, too, is part of this, so we might find the space to eat and enjoy food at the right times and so that there’s space, too, for the other parts of what we hope to do in a day. Benedict is telling us that eating--this chance to know nourishment and community together--isn’t trivial and when we choose to do it is important.