In Chapter 64 of the Rule, Saint Benedict offers counsel to the abbot in dealing with his monks. Three words tell it all. Indeed, the three are a summary of the Benedictine way: "ne quid nimis," —nothing to excess. The abbot must avoid extremes in his words and deeds.

When the Benedictines first arrived in this country from Europe, they had in mind to build a brewery as a means of support. At least they did until the bishops heard about it. They were aghast. "You cannot do that in this country. It's Protestant country and its thinking on alcoholic beverage is not Catholic. You would offend, shock, scandalize." But they had their brewery, if with awkward misgivings. In fact, St. Vincent Beer from the abbey was produced for 59 years, but it was against a background of temperance promotion, also on the part of the Catholic Church. The beer ended with the 18th Amendment in 1919.

When Dom Frederic Dunne¹ became abbot, he made a few changes as first American abbot. No wine at table. "That may be customary with monks, with everyone in France, it is not so here. Further, if we have Catholics around us, they are an encircled few. It is Baptist country and wine with our meals would in no way edify them." Dom Frederic also put an end to snuff. I don't think it was an ecumenical matter. I am sure he found snuff a dirty habit.

The beer and the wine solution was a bit severe, yet it was done primarily out of concern for the feelings of others.

But the trouble with "ne quid nimis," with avoiding extremes, is that it is not impressive. It looks soft, compromising. It is not to take a strong, firm stand. It is to take a gentle one.

So when great Protestant effort in this country fought liquor and everything they saw that went with it, they succeeded. The country voted an amendment to the Constitution to forbid alcoholic beverage.

The Catholic Church never supported it. Too severe. Too extreme. They took the weak position of tolerance, hope in the growth of the virtues of abstinence and sobriety. In any case, the heart of the sacramental life involves wine. But such comment sounded weak and lame, a compromise. In the end, and the end was not long in coming, Prohibition was a disaster and was repealed.

Now here we go again with Bingo and Casinos. The Church insists that there is no sin in games of chance. Indeed, hundreds of parishes in Kentucky play Bingo for the money it brings in. It is as mindless a game as any game of chance could be, but it doesn't cost that much, is a social gathering people enjoy, it supports good works. And is hardly addictive, the winnings scarcely worthy of addiction.

But one Father told me: "The Church cannot stand up to the Casinos and the river boats because it supports Bingo." —Not really. It just looks that way because the gentle approach always looks soft. It sounds tough to say: "No gambling whatever. No games of chance. No way. Period!"

A more humane approach is better. The Church sees Casinos, especially numbers of them, as too much, too big, too lavish, too attractive, too seductive. And devastating for many unable to resist the lure. Stories already abound.

Some bishops, some pastors ban Bingo as cheap, carnival stuff. Others not, and see in the gathering fun, support and a community exercise of get-together. And you can add class if you like. Fr. Robertson, a former Anglican priest, disliked Bingo, but saw its advantages. So he played Bach recordings as background music and advertised his game as "Bingo with Bach."

The lesson is general, not just for abbots and their monks. "Ne quid nimis:" Avoid extremes. Go gently. It's a good policy. Though it looks weak, it actually demands strength. It's easy to get tough and violent in word or deed. It is not Christian, and certainly not Benedictine.  The gentle style is something anyone can practice. And should.

The monks of our Motherhouse, Melleray, in France, were farmers. They made neither cheese nor beer. The cheese and the wherewithal came from another house. One wonders what would have happened had our early monks chosen to brew beer as they do in Holland and Belgium.

Perhaps we have reached the perfect solution of  "ne quid nimis" with our fruit cake and fudge. We forego bourbon at our table, our gatherings, but we don't hesitate to flavor both cake and fudge with it. Even in Baptist country which, oddly enough, is also bourbon country.

All of which brings us to the Gospel for today. It's all a matter of preference. You prefer nothing whatever to Christ. A preference is not a violent, extreme position. It is a quiet settling in a serene position without fear or tension, any anxiety. There is nothing violent about it. It is as gentle as a compass needle pointing out a direction. No excitement is involved. It is thus we are fully able to act without pressure, calm and free, barren of extremes. Even in a most demanding situation, "ne quid nimis."     Amen.

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¹ Dom Frederic Dunne was the 5th abbot of Gethsemani, from 1935 until his death in August of 1948.