I know the road between Northwest Indiana (where I live), and Missouri (where my family lives) pretty well. I’ve passed through Effingham, Illinois, where I-70 meets I-57, several dozen times. If you’ve gone through there you know besides several places to eat, fuel up, or stay the night, there is also a really big cross there. If you’ve never passed through there you might not be able to appreciate how enormous it is. Even though I’ve passed the cross many times, its size still surprises me. Those who built it, I’m sure, did so out of honest devotion. Many who pass it, I’m sure, are encouraged in their faith, too. My opinion is only one guy’s thoughts, and I’m sure many feel differently, but the cross always seems over-the-top to me. Jesus’ resurrection appearances in the gospels are humble and quiet, where he gently restores the faith of his followers. Jesus doesn’t build a sky-high monument to himself; instead, he gently calls his followers to new life and service. The cross in Effingham is--to me--overwhelming and bombastic. Whenever I see it I think, “Bigger doesn’t always mean better.”

Benedict, in chapter 20 of the Rule, tells us bigger doesn’t mean better when it comes to our prayers. “Prayer should therefore be short and pure,” he says. He recognizes times of inspiration, where one is caught up by the Spirit in lengthy prayer, but prayer in the community “should always be brief.” Benedict isn’t calling us to marathons of prayer, where we build enormous monuments of our own words. Instead, he invites us to purity and simplicity. Jesus said something similar,instructing us not to “heap up empty phrases” in our prayers, simply so we’ll be heard with our many words (Matt. 6:7).

I’m as guilty as anyone else, doing something only so others will see and notice and be impressed. I want things I do to be loud, impressive, or overwhelming. Benedict calls us, though, to something different, to leave behind the lengthy prayers of show and to pray with simplicity, purity, and brevity.