Monk?

In solitude

I’ve heard personally from many people, even Catholics, who believe sincerely that monks live a kind of soft life and that their withdrawal from the world into the cloister of the monastery is a weakness and an evasion from responsibility. They are convinced these people have chosen the monastic life because they can’t handle the real world. And so, on and on it goes with similar convictions from good folks who just can’t fathom why anyone normal would choose to live in such a way.

What to say? Are there folks who have entered monastic life for the wrong reasons, and some who’ve done so in order to avoid life and all its responsibilities? No doubt, yes. But my own experience suggests this is the exception and not the rule. Today the psychological examination and interview process, to say nothing of the years long process of temporary vows before one is accepted as a professed member of a community pretty much weeds out the possibility of admission to a community on the part of the unhealthy and unbalanced.

Honestly, the monastery is no place for someone who suffers psychologically. The solitude and silence of the cloister, often romanticized in the minds of those who have not experienced either in any real way, is a testing crucible of the highest order. It is the loci within which the monk is seared internally, the timber of his self-constructed identity burnt away, revealing the truth of his being before God. Only from a distance can this seem romantic; it is not. It calls forth the very qualities we admire most in people: steadfastness, perseverance, the ability to suffer for a higher good, altruism, generosity, faith in the face of doubt, love, to say nothing of a reasonably healthy psyche.

Solitude is the place this happens, the monk hidden away from admiring eyes, looking within and beyond for the truth, for God. If solitude were such a vacation from life I would expect monastery’s like the Abbey of the Genesee and all the other Trappist monasteries in the U.S. would be turning away people for lack of space. That isn’t happening and honestly that’s because monasteries that really live the monastic life are the antithesis of Club-Med. They’re places were real people live a very real and demanding religious life.

Peace!

Br. Anthony of Genesee

There are both essential and non-essential elements in the life of a monk. The vows: obedience to rule and abbot, conversion of life (celibacy and poverty), and stability (the commitment to remain in one’s monastery and community for life) are essential, the core of his way to God. There are also practices, known as observances, which are not vowed, which contain some of the most distinctive and important aspects of monastic life, as well as some that are far less important.

Some of the less important practices, which can change with cultural and historical circumstances, are the distinctive clothing monks wear, haircuts, liturgical celebrations, etc. These can change and frequently have over the centuries and yet they don’t change the essential nature of monastic life.

Other observances are at the very heart of what it is to be a monk and would include: withdrawal from society (living an enclosed life), the practice of silence, the life of prayer, fasting and vigils, and monastic work (the Cistercians emphasize manual work). Without these, monastic life would be nothing more than a comfortable club; with them the monk takes on the means for his vow of conversion of life, living it in earnest each day as he seeks to know himself and God.

It’s worth thinking about - that some people freely take on such practices for purposes unrelated to personal gain as understood within our culture. There are men and women throughout the world that rise every day of their life long before the sun shines to chant prayers to the unseen God they pledge their lives to, take simple meals in silence, and spend solitary hours each day in sacred reading and meditation. And there are no vacations from this life of devotion.

These practices are the tools monastic life has always employed to guide the traveler on his way to the one essential thing: love. For the ones who take on these disciplines with a true heart, and as St. Benedict puts it “run on the path of God’s commandments” (Prologue vs.49 ) the reward is what we all are seeking - a love that surpasses all understanding.

A brother asked abba Poemen, “If I see my brother sin, is it right to say nothing about it?” The old man replied, “whenever we cover our brother’s sin, God will cover ours; whenever we tell people about our brother’s guilt, God will do the same about ours.” (Sayings of the Desert Fathers, Benidicta Ward, translator)

Why do some people become monks? Well, simply put, they have a desire to live life out in a monastic way; they choose to live monastically over and above all the other options available to them. This, though, is a bit like saying the color black is dark; it doesn’t say a whole heck of a lot.

Something happens inside all of us when we come in contact in one form or another with the “it” we’re meant to do, though “do” really isn’t the right verb at all. It’s really who we’re meant to “be” that emerges into consciousness and sends a hum of energy throughout our being when we “see” it for the first time. It happens to all of us when we meet our true love - we know it beyond words; there is no adequate description of it that can be made to others, nor, in the end does there need to be, because if the encounter is real others will see it too and experience the resonance of a person in love.

And monks are lovers, and are called to love unconditionally - God. That something that vibrates within, as if a perfectly still surface of water were suddenly alive with ripples sent out from a center point touched with the tip of a finger, is experienced in different circumstances by men and women “called” to be monks. It might occur while reading a book, walking alone in the woods, sitting at the beach looking at the water rolling in; it could begin by the touch of a word someone might say…at church, at the dinner table, at work. It could happen suddenly or more like a slow, incessant “something” within that simply cannot be ignored. Wherever or however it happens it is a question that needs answering, a pull that won’t stop pulling, a yearning that demands a response.

The classic idea of vocation says we are called by God and we are free to respond or not to respond, and this is so. However, it is so much more beautiful and unfathomable than any formulation can put it, no matter what God speaks us to be, including that of monk. Everyone reading this has or will experience, God willing, their own singular call; it’s woven into the fabric of human destiny. Most won’t experience the pull to live monastically; however, some reading this just might… It’s my guess you know who you are, or at least suspect it.

My suggestion? Pray and be open to God’s invitation even if it scares you to even think about it. The way will be open if you really want to know the answer. Blessings!

At that time a meeting was held at Sketis about a brother who had sinned. The Fathers spoke, but Abba Pior kept silent. Later, he got up and went out. He took a sack and filled it with sand and carried it on his shoulder; then he put a little sand into a small bag that he carried in front of him. When the Fathers asked him what this meant he said, ‘In this sack which contains much sand, are my sins which are many; I have put them behind me so that I might not be troubled about them and so that I might not weep. And behold, here are the little sins of my brother which are in front of me, and I spend my time judging them. This is not right. Rather, I ought to carry my sins in front of me and concern myself with them, begging God to forgive me.’ The Fathers stood up and said, ‘Verily, this is the way of salvation.’ (Selected sayings from the Apothegmata patrum, translated by M.C. Steenberg)