Death in the Monastery

“Keep death daily before your eyes” — Rule of St. Benedict 4:47

Recently, one of our confreres passed away. P. Koloman’s death was not an interruption to our life together, but a deepening of it—a moment in which the rhythm of the Rule met the reality of our human condition.

In the quiet rhythm of monastic life, death is not a stranger. It does not interrupt; it completes. St. Benedict does not tell his monks to fear death, but to remember it—to live in its light, not its shadow.

In the monastery, we do not hide from death behind euphemisms or distractions. We accompany the dying with prayer and presence. We keep vigil. We chant the psalms. We bury our brothers in the same earth from which we came, with the same hope that called us to monastic life: that our lives are not our own, but are part of God's great telling.

To “keep death daily before your eyes” is not morbid—it is deeply human and deeply Christian. It means recognizing that time is not endless, that every breath is a gift, and that our days are to be shaped by humility, gratitude, and readiness. In Benedictine tradition, this remembrance of death is not about dread but about focus: a life lived fully, awake to grace.

We grieve, but we do not grieve without hope. Not in the hope of escaping death, but in the trust that nothing is lost to God. Even silence, even endings, belong to His Word.

And so when a brother dies, we remember: his story now belongs to God’s story. His life, shaped by obedience, prayer, and love, is gathered into the mystery we all await.

In the monastery, we learn to die as we live: listening, surrendering, and trusting that the final word is not death, but God.