As I see it, the water drawn from the rock recalls Moses; the iron tool that came up from the bottom of the water, Elisha; sorrow at the death of an enemy, David. It seems to me, then, that this man was fully endowed with the spirit of all the just.--Dialogues of Gregory the Great, Book II,.8:8.

This famous outburst on the part of the Deacon Peter, Pope Gregory's partner in The Dialogues, affirms that the three miracles of St. Benedict just narrated by Gregory were imitations of miracles recorded by thee great figures from Scripture. That Benedict's miracles should be imitations of biblical archetypes suggests to many scholars that these miracles, and the life of Benedict as a whole, have been lifted out of history and into the realm of myth. Literary criticism of Gregory's life of Benedict in Book II of The Dialogues cannot solve the historical issue, but it can explore what Gregory accomplishes in his narration and refine questions having to do with myth and history.

The three events Peter lists in this outburst all happened at Subiaco, the first of Benedict's two main monastic foundations. In the first, Benedict struck a rock so as to cause water to flow out from it, thus saving the monks living nearby a difficult and dangerous journey down a mountain to the nearest lake to draw water. This, of course, recalls the incident at Meribah where Moses struck the rock in the desert to give water to the thirsting Israelites. The second incident was about a Goth, a novice who, while clearing space for a garden with a borrowed tool, dropped it in the water. As Elisha made a tool similarly borrowed by a prophet float to the top of the water, Benedict was able to pull the same trick. The third event was not a miracle on the part of Benedict, unless one takes his attitude to the situation as a miracle. When Benedict was told that a local priest who had persecuted the community had just been killed, Benedict grieved as David grieved over the death of his enemy Saul.

The references to Moses and Elijah cover the Law and the Prophets of the Old Testament. The reference to David has messianic overtones since David was an ancestor of Jesus. The forgiving act of David alluded to here can only strengthen the reference to Christ. There is one more celebrated miracle tied to a biblical figure that Gregory has just narrated that the Deacon Peter did not include in his little outburst. One of the younger monks, Placid, fell into the river while trying to draw water. Benedict, knowing immediately what had happened, sent his disciple Maurus to rescue Placid. After dashing down to the river, Maurus ran across the water to pull Placid out. The mystery of this miracle was heightened later when Placid said that he saw the mantel of Benedict himself when he was being rescued. In his narration, Gregory said that this event was "an amazing thing, which has not happened since the time of the Apostle Peter."

It is a commonplace in hagiographical literature that many of the miracles narrated of the saints are copies of miracles from the Bible and earlier hagiographical literature. In an age that craves an undue amount of originality, one may wish that the saints, or their biographers, could be a little more creative and come up with new miracles. The point, however, is that the saints, like Benedict are, in Peter's phrase, "endowed with the spirit of all of the just." If one is indeed endowed with the spirit of the just ones, then one does the same things that the just ones did in earlier times. We shall soon see that it was not just the miracles of Benedict which were done in imitation of earlier saints. The whole life of Benedict is a copy of the actions of his predecessors.

One of the delicious ironies in the whole matter of originality is that imitating the just ones of earlier times turns out to be the best way to end up doing something original after all. In discussing how these miracles under discussion recapitulate biblical archetypes, Adalbert de Vogüé also demonstrates significant differences from the originals. For example, when Moses struck the rock in the desert of Zin, it was to quell a riot that could result in the leader himself being lynched. Because of the contention at the time, the spring was called "The Waters of Contradiction." (Meribah) Benedict's gesture was a quiet, "family affair." The miracle is done at night, with Placid the only witness, rather than performed in front of everybody with a lot of fanfare. Moreover, it is not the case that anybody had demanded water. Rather, the monks from the houses that had a difficult journey to the lake had humbly asked Benedict if they could move to a better location. Unlike the contention in the Desert of Zin, "the complaint of the monks is reasonable; the response of the abbot is gentle and encouraging." Part of the awe inspired by Gregory's story of Benedict comes from the gentle low-key style of performing the miracle. De Vogüé goes on to say: "If the contrast between fear and love could ever have characterized the two covenants, this is surely the case here." Not only is Benedict imitating Moses, he is imitating Christ as well, with the result that the miracle upon which Benedict's is modeled is transformed. (Gregory the Great: The Life of Saint Benedict: Commentary by Adalbert de Vogüé. Translated by Hilary Costello and Eoin de Bhaldraithe. Petersham, Mass.; St. Bede's Publications; 1993)

Although the saints are held up as models, the miracles worked by these saints are an impediment to us in imitating them. One cannot decide on one's own to perform a miracle. It is up to God to work miracles through God's chosen vessels. There is, however, another line of imitation in the life of Benedict that is not dependent on miracles partaking of the supernatural. One can choose to live either an eremitical or communal life or prayer in imitation of the monks and nuns who have gone before. That is what Benedict chose to do and it is a choice others can also make.

When Benedict left his childhood nursemaid for the grotto at the top of a mountain near Subiaco, the monk par excellence whom Benedict was imitating, of course, St. Antony of Egypt. The Life of Antony by Athanasius of Alexandria was well-known throughout the Christian world. Augustine of Hippo, himself, was deeply inspired by the example of Antony held up by this biography. Athanasius tells how Antony heard the Gospel read in Church that commands the rich young man to sell everything he owns and follow Jesus. When Antony heard those words, he left the church and did just that. Likewise, Benedict left everything to follow a life of prayer.

Besides Jesus Himself, who, if anybody, was Antony of Egypt imitating? Athanasius said that Antony "used to tell himself that from the career of the great Elijah, as from a mirror, the ascetic must always acquire knowledge of his own life." (Athanasius: The Life of Antony. Translation and introduction by Robert C. Gregg; Preface by William A. Clebsch. New York; Paulist Press; 1980) Athanasius was not, of course, the first to imitate Elijah. Both Matthew and Mark say that John the Baptist lived in the desert and wore a garment of camel skin. Who was John the Baptist imitating? Elijah had gone out into the desert before John. 2 Kings 1:8 reports that Elijah was identifiable because of the hair cloak he was wearing. The Life of Antony states that Antony was girt the same way as Elijah. With the widespread figurative use of clothing in Scripture and Church writings, the imitation could be figurative in this case. Benedict himself, however, imitated John the Baptist imitating Elijah by wearing animal skins during his time as a hermit in Subiaco.

It is not surprising that Elijah should have been regarded as the archetypal contemplative from the Old Testament. He lived an extended time alone in the desert, withdrawn from a violent society that had rejected God and which sought to scapegoat him. The theophany of the still small voice after the whirlwind and the earthquake is a model of contemplative insight for Elijah after having experienced the violence of the surrounding society and the violence within himself. Elijah, too, had a model. Moses also journeyed into the desert and was the recipient of theophanies such as the burning bush and the cloud on Mount Sinai. Because of this, Moses, too, is treated by Christian writers as an archetype of the contemplative life. Both Moses and Elijah were agents of divine violence inflicted on their enemies. Both became the focus of threatened collective violence from their own people. As already noted, both experienced theophanies in the desert. Since Jesus is normally posited as the prime example for us to imitate, we can easily overlook the fact that Jesus himself, as a human like any other, imitated other people. Although John the Baptist himself was to declare that Jesus surpassed him, it was John the Baptist whom Jesus imitated by withdrawing into the desert for an extended period of time, although the Gospels say nothing about Jesus wearing animal skins. At the same time, Jesus was imitating Elijah and Moses, the Law and the Prophets. In following these two, Jesus redeemed, in his death and resurrection, the violence in which even these two great figures were enmeshed in their times.

We have a trajectory of imitation then that runs as follows: Benedict imitated Antony, who imitated John the Baptist, who imitated Elijah, who imitated Moses. I have already pointed that Gregory also emphasizes Benedict's imitation of Peter and that overarching this whole series of imitations is the imitation of Christ. The series of imitations is much more complex than this brief outline suggests because many of the stories narrated by Gregory seem to be modeled by earlier lives of monastic saints so that one can spin quite a complex web of monastic figures imitating monastic figures and biblical figures.

Although one cannot, at will, imitate the miracles of Elijah or Moses, one can imitate their contemplative journeys as did Antony, Benedict, and many other monastic figures. It is also worth recalling that in the midst of Benedict making biblical miracles present, he also made present King David's grief over the death of an enemy. That the balcony of the envious priest who persecuted Benedict should collapse and kill him can be seen as an act of divine retribution, but balconies can collapse through purely natural causes. In any case, Benedict does not, himself, perform a miracle of any kind. Unless, that is, one considers it a miracle that a person who was the object of destructive hatred to the extent that he felt required to move away and start a new foundation elsewhere, should experience grief but no elation over the enemy's death.

A further question: Does Gregory think that the miracles performed by the saints are impossible to imitate? When the Deacon Peter named the biblical archetypes of Benedict's miracles, he added that Benedict was "fully endowed with the spirit of all of the just." It was through this "endowment" from the just ones that Benedict performed the miracles that he did. That is to say, the just ones do not attempt to keep their miraculous powers to themselves. They freely endow the new just ones with the spirit which was given them by God. God, likewise, does not begrudge the possession of divine power on the part of the just ones. In imitating those who gave their lives for the sake of following Christ, one also has the potential to receive the "endowment," that is the substance of holiness itself, that those who followed Christ before received, and which we can receive in our turn.