It’s safe to say many of us head into December with a mix of excitement and a sprinkle of reluctance.

The twinkle lights? Gorgeous.
The cookies? Delightful.
The family gatherings? …emotionally athletic. 😅

And somewhere between the gift lists, the expectations, the traditions, and the “Mom, I can’t find my other shoe,” or the, “So, sweetie, are you seeing anyone yet,” you start to question if it’s even possible to have a peaceful Christmas when you’re the one holding it all together.

But the truth is: you were never meant to white-knuckle your way through the holiday season. And surprisingly, no one speaks into December mom-life quite like a 6th-century monk. St. Benedict offers a vision of order, peace, humility, and simplicity that is perfect for us during the busiest, noisiest, holiest time of the year.

Here are five life-saving lessons from the Rule of St. Benedict that can help you cultivate a Christmas rooted in peace instead of pressure.

No. 1: “Do nothing harsh, nothing burdensome.”

From the prologue

Benedict opens his Rule by telling his monks that this way of life is not meant to crush them—but to free them. It seems a little counter-intuitive but the Bible reflects this same idea. God gives us the law not to punish or rebuke but to free. (Deuteronomy 10:13, Galatians 5:1, James 1:25, Romans 7:12)

December piles on extra everything—extra tasks, extra expectations, extra pressure. But Benedict reminds us: If it feels harsh, frantic, or heavy, it’s not the way of Christ. Our sweet savior Himself tells us, “My yoke is easy, my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28–30)

This Advent and Christmas, consider the mantra: “Simple is holy.” 

When invitations and events come up, ask yourself if it serves your family, points you toward Christ, and helps promote the peace in your home. Ask yourself if you’re saying yes out of love or guilt. Ask yourself if the event/task is important or just loud. Christmas doesn’t really require more from us, but it does ask us to receive more of Him. 

No. 2: “Prefer nothing whatever to Christ.”

From Chapter 4: Instruments of Good Works

Gah. This is one of those things that we know but is so hard to practice.

When Benedict says prefer nothing to Christ, he isn’t being poetic—he means nothing: Not the perfect dinner. Not matching pajamas. Not a flawless Christmas card photo. Not pleasing your extended family. Nothing.

When Christ is first, everything else finds its right size and order. When Christ is first, we feel secure in His love and can stop chasing approval, performing, and contorting ourselves to make others comfortable.

Consider the mantra: “Jesus, I prefer You. Help me see everything else as secondary.”

3. “Guard your tongue… keep silence… speak only what is necessary.”

From Chapter 6: On Silence

Silence may sound especially challenging when the house is full of cousins, wrapping paper, and every musical toy gifted by well-meaning relatives. But Benedict refers to both exterior and interior silence.

And this is exactly what we need when the comments and questions start flying:

“So… when are you going to have another?”
“Are you still homeschooling?”
“Why aren’t you married yet?”
“You know, if you’d just do it this way…”

When the comments come up, it’s easy to fall into traps of defensiveness, anger, annoyance, and sometimes sin. Here’s what Benedict had to say about how we should remain humble: “For to speak and to teach becomes the master, to be silent and to listen beseems the disciple.”

Benedict wants his monks to embody the humility of learners—quiet, receptive, slow to speak—something we can borrow from this time of year when the noise seems to be amplified in every respect. When we hold our tongues, we leave space to God to speak to us. By closing our mouths, we open the communication lines between us and our Father. Just as Mary pondered, so we are invited to hold our tongues in humility. And from quiet, God can fill us with His presence, peace, and wisdom. 

No. 4: “Carry one another’s weaknesses patiently.”

From Chapter 72: The Good Zeal of Monks

Benedict expects his monks to be imperfect—and commands the community to love each other through those imperfections. Hello, is that a hard pill to swallow. 😅

We live our lives with our families and friends and co-workers, all sinners rubbing our gaping wounds on each other’s hearts and minds. And, especially during the holidays, when we’re overstimulated, stressed, carrying more than our usual load, meekness and mercy can feel far away. 

It is so easy to forget that our children and our in-laws and our co-workers are image bearers. We are quick to label them as disruptive, annoying, or as someone happening to us and making our lives harder. But Benedict specifically tells his monks to put others first and honor them before themselves. He urges them not to choose the easiest or most convenient path just because it benefits them. 

So, yes, your relatives may be opinionated.
And you yourself are carrying more than usual.

But we can actively try to choose compassion over irritation, tenderness over tension, presence over pressure. Walk into the holidays with an attitude of premeditated mercy. By that, I don’t mean gritting your teeth and tolerating everyone. But actively choosing (ahead of time!) to interpret others with radical charity.

Instead of:

“He left the food out because he doesn’t respect my time.”
Try:
“He probably ran to rescue a kid climbing a chair, or got distracted helping with something important.”

Instead of:
“My mom/MIL always nitpicks my parenting.”
Try:
“She loves us deeply… and worries in ways she doesn’t always express well.”

This season, we can better welcome Christ by bearing each other’s weaknesses than a thousand carols and hymns. 

No. 5: “Order your days with measure; avoid excess.”

(Numerous chapters: moderation in food, drink, work, schedule, and expectations)

Historically, fasting during the weeks of Advent was very similar to Lent. It was a solemn time for rich meditation and preparation. Now, in our culture, there are parties every week. We start with Thanksgiving and often celebrate our way into Christmas and New Years. 

But Benedict reminds us that balance and moderation make rich soil for spiritual life. Throughout his Rule, he speaks often about moderating work, talking, self-imposed pressure, and busyness.

This is a gift for us, especially at Christmas. When the culture beckons us to do more, Benedict reminds us: “Do less, but with love.”

This season, ask yourself:

• What actually matters this year?
• What can be simplified—or skipped entirely?
• What is draining more than it’s giving?
• Where is Christ inviting me to slow down?
  

Our peace grows in spacious, intentionally ordered days—not in frantic, overstuffed ones.

If your December has already started to feel like a marathon, let these ancient words reorient you. You don’t have to orchestrate a magazine-worthy Christmas. You don’t have to manage every mood, every meal, every extended-family dynamic. You certainly don’t have to carry the emotional load of an entire household on your already-tired shoulders. What you can do (and what Benedict invites us to do) is create more silence, order, and mercy in your days to notice the God who is drawing near.