The Problem of Murmuring at Work according to St Benedict
Bad enough to complain at work, worse to murmur. I'm not talking about legitimate complaints about some matter or circumstance that prudence dictates you should address. I'm talking more about what we might call "chronic" complaining or, worse (as we'll see), murmuring.
I've done my share of complaining on the job, but at least I did start to realize early on that: 1) It got me nowhere; 2) It's a drag on everyone else. Not that my realization led to upbeat, positive words and behavior all the time. That's just not my personality. In fact, if all you can tell me is that I should be "positive" and not "negative," chances are your words won't sink in. They'll just bounce off this crusty shield God gave me that provides resistance to all those upbeat, positive thinkers and doers out there who endlessly talk about their "goals" and sow seeds of "feel-good" wherever they wander. (I suppose I should respond more positively to their positivity, but that's a subject for another time.)
Of course, bosses hate complainers. They feel it drags everyone down. There's some truth in this. Even if you're not one to be "motivated" by "positive thinking" nostrums, you probably understand that constant complaining really is a drag on everyone around you; it even serves as a kind of drain on the energy in your workplace.
In any case (without ever buying into the cult of positive thinking) over time my complaining lessened. If for no other reason, I didn't particularly care for hearing others complain around me, and naturally figured they probably didn't care for my complaining either. I may not be Mr. Positive, but I can think and reason.
Besides complaining, there's this matter of murmuring. Now there's a word not used as much as complaining to describe those who would sow seeds of discontent in negative attitudes and behavior in the workplace. But the murmurer may be even more of a problem than the outright complainer. You see, murmuring is quiet, more subdued. It's more a low, continuous sound and frequently results in "insinuation," which can be more subtle but nonetheless frequently more destructive and undermining of another than the outright complaint. In fact, St Benedict, in his Holy Rule (to which we refer from time to time), specifically weighs in about murmuring.
Here he talks about murmuring in the monastery, but of course we can substitute the workplace and his words still ring true. The context of his remarks are interesting: he's talking about drinking wine. St Benedict, being the thorough instructor in the ways of living a good, holy life in the monastery, covers just about every aspect of daily life, including a suggestion about how much wine a monk should drink in a day. (Remember, wine was the staple drink at this time, and in some cultures still is. It's not something people drank just to get drunk, but rather was considered as much a part of normal dining as the food on your plate - even by monks.) His recommendation being generous, he does warn against drinking "to surfeit" (an excessive amount of something). But then he mentions that, in some circumstances there may not be enough or even any wine at all in the case of a monastery that's particularly poor in its circumstances. And here he weighs in on murmuring:
"Above all things" don't murmur says the great saint. Rather, thank God for all you have. We would do well to listen to St Benedict as we go to work today.
I've done my share of complaining on the job, but at least I did start to realize early on that: 1) It got me nowhere; 2) It's a drag on everyone else. Not that my realization led to upbeat, positive words and behavior all the time. That's just not my personality. In fact, if all you can tell me is that I should be "positive" and not "negative," chances are your words won't sink in. They'll just bounce off this crusty shield God gave me that provides resistance to all those upbeat, positive thinkers and doers out there who endlessly talk about their "goals" and sow seeds of "feel-good" wherever they wander. (I suppose I should respond more positively to their positivity, but that's a subject for another time.)
Of course, bosses hate complainers. They feel it drags everyone down. There's some truth in this. Even if you're not one to be "motivated" by "positive thinking" nostrums, you probably understand that constant complaining really is a drag on everyone around you; it even serves as a kind of drain on the energy in your workplace.
In any case (without ever buying into the cult of positive thinking) over time my complaining lessened. If for no other reason, I didn't particularly care for hearing others complain around me, and naturally figured they probably didn't care for my complaining either. I may not be Mr. Positive, but I can think and reason.
Besides complaining, there's this matter of murmuring. Now there's a word not used as much as complaining to describe those who would sow seeds of discontent in negative attitudes and behavior in the workplace. But the murmurer may be even more of a problem than the outright complainer. You see, murmuring is quiet, more subdued. It's more a low, continuous sound and frequently results in "insinuation," which can be more subtle but nonetheless frequently more destructive and undermining of another than the outright complaint. In fact, St Benedict, in his Holy Rule (to which we refer from time to time), specifically weighs in about murmuring.
Here he talks about murmuring in the monastery, but of course we can substitute the workplace and his words still ring true. The context of his remarks are interesting: he's talking about drinking wine. St Benedict, being the thorough instructor in the ways of living a good, holy life in the monastery, covers just about every aspect of daily life, including a suggestion about how much wine a monk should drink in a day. (Remember, wine was the staple drink at this time, and in some cultures still is. It's not something people drank just to get drunk, but rather was considered as much a part of normal dining as the food on your plate - even by monks.) His recommendation being generous, he does warn against drinking "to surfeit" (an excessive amount of something). But then he mentions that, in some circumstances there may not be enough or even any wine at all in the case of a monastery that's particularly poor in its circumstances. And here he weighs in on murmuring:
But when the circumstances of the place are such that the aforesaid measure (of wine) cannot be had, but much less or even none at all, then let the monks who dwell there bless God and not murmur. Above all things do we give this admonition, that they abstain from murmuring. (Rule of St Benedict, Chapter 40)
"Above all things" don't murmur says the great saint. Rather, thank God for all you have. We would do well to listen to St Benedict as we go to work today.
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