Friday, March 3, 2017

Invitation To An Orthodox Intentional Community

The Fellowship of Intentional Communities defined intentional community this way: "A group of people who live together or share common facilities and who regularly associate with each other on the basis of explicit common values." I believe we need to form an Orthodox intentional community in the Phoenix metropolitan area. The reason is the synthesis and application of the answers to a series of increasingly specific questions as documented below:

Why am I attracted to intentional community?

I long to grow in the virtues of forgiveness, tolerance, love, commitment, grace, mercy, etc, but this only happens in community. Only in community can my narcissistic blindspots be challenged. For much of my life, my circumstances have required that I live alone, or effectively alone, and my interactions with people have been extremely compartmentalized. The result is that my growth in Christlikeness has been stagnant. It is a source of great sorrow for me. I might be naive, but I think I need the messy, interpersonal friction that demands growth. I would be very sad if I died only marginally more Christlike than I was in university. But I see so much hope in the prayer-bathed catalyst of intentional community--people choosing to live together--so that they can put into maximal practice the Gospel, and be transformed thereby.

Participatory commitment to a local, concrete expression of the Body of Christ is a minimal requirement for any true practitioner of Christianity. But I find even as a parish member that attends all liturgical services and functions, rarely is my ego challenged. As I reflect on my life, this has only consistently happened in those rare instances that I have lived with people. So I am looking to participate in intentional community.

Why am I attracted to covenant community?

Many will say that the above sounds like a good idea, but the problem arises when someone whom we do not like starts to participate in our community. Then the temptation comes to leave rather than work through the issues and learn to die to self. And this is the cause of the high rate of church-hopping, peripheral church participation, and the general depreciation of church membership among professing Christians.

I envision myself facing these same temptations to jump ship when an opportunity for growth in Christlikeness presents itself. I think that having an explicit and conscious covenant in the community would help me overcome my narcissism. As a metaphor, someone with a learning disability is placed in a special class with a special social contract and framework to help him cope with the disability. I lived as an unsupervised, unaccountable, lone-ranger, tent-making Evangelical missionary in China for ten years. I have a remedial need to learn to submit one to another. So I am attracted to a covenant community.

Why I am attracted to an Orthodox covenant community?

Humanly speaking, I cannot feel safe to make deep commitments with people who have a worldview too different from me. As a rough line in the sand, I am making Orthodox Catholicity as my minimal boundary. This at least ostensibly grants a shared sacramental worldview and shared submission to the same bishop. So I am attracted to an explicitly Orthodox covenant community.

What are the historical precedents?

Historically, there were two options for Orthodox after reaching adulthood:
  1. procreate and create one’s own “explicitly Orthodox covenant community” (AKA, biological family), or
  2. join a monastic community.
I am 43 and have not created a biological family yet, so the former does not seem to be the way of God’s Providence for me. I have recently realized that at this time the latter is also not my path.

How then shall We live?

An acquaintance who lived as a novice on Mt. Athos for several years told me that these two paths are the only spiritually safe paths. My current path of non-monastic singleness is very dangerous because it is too easy to fall into self-delusion when one has neither a wife nor an abbot to challenge one's selfishness. For a long time, I have been lulled into thinking that my status in life was perhaps not ideal, but not actually dangerous. But now I think that it really is dangerous because my life is littered with immaturity.

Through diligent exercise of the means of grace available to me in parish life and private devotion, I try to be “transformed by the renewal of my mind”, and I do see progress. However, I believe that daily participation in corporate morning and evening prayers by people living in community can do a lot toward expediting that transformation. I hypothesize that it would have a profound influence on the Orthodox formation of my phronema.

Given that my life fits neither the married nor the monastic model, I need a new model: lay, marital-status-indifferent, Orthodox intentional community. I have found a few precedents online:
So let's form a lay, marital-status-indifferent, Orthodox, intentional community in Glendale, AZ.  Parascheva and I are being as intentional as we can with just two of us. Lord willing, Agathangelos will join us in December. Other interested parties, please contact me to discuss how to make this happen.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

What Kind of Asceticism for Philip

I have been intrigued by monasticism throughout most of my life. Probably my first encounter with it was as a child in the movieThe Sound of Music. Before I become an Orthodox Christian, I had taken several retreats at Roman Catholic monasteries. The longest one was a week-long retreat was at a Trappist monastery in Taiwan in 2009. That was a very interesting experience, and I wrote about it in my former blog: A Retreat In Taiwan and The Essence of Trappist Monasticism. The photos are here. Although I was happy that these monasteries existed so that I could utilize them as retreat centers, because of reservations that I had and have toward Roman Catholicism, I could never really seriously consider that as a viable path. This left me sad since from my perspective, monasticism was just one more baby that had been thrown out at the Protestant Reformation.

But that all changed on January 6, 2012, the night I was received into the Orthodox Church. Right after my life confession, it dawned on me that I was about to become part of a church that did not disdain monasticism, and I could re-open my investigation. Of course, I was living in mainland China at the time, where Orthodoxy is not even legal, much less has monasteries. And it took me two whole years to get up the courage to repatriate so that I could be in physical proximity to them. Then it took another three years for me to save enough money that I could peacefully take time off work to investigate.

It has been a challenge to talk about my interest in monasticism these five years. It sometimes has been impossible to communicate how far off the possibility of my becoming a monk was: The application process to become a monk is protracted lasting sometimes four years and I was just at the initial stage of even investigating the remote possibility of checking out a couple monasteries. For some reason, the concept of monasticism is so threatening to some people that my even mentioning monasticism was equivalent in their mind to my becoming a monk the next day. It is hard to have rational conversations in the presence of this level of fear.

Sometimes I just wished that people would take a look at my life and see whether I really was the impetuous person that their fear implied I was. I wished that they would give the benefit of the doubt to a person who had already spent five years prayerfully investigating the theory and history of monasticism on paper before even daring to investigate in person. I found it especially painful when people would say, "We don't think you would like it." I experienced those words as people trying to control me instead of honoring the freedom of will with which I am endowed as an image bearer of the Holy Trinity.

In the end, on January 31, 2017, after three months of preparing my clients for my disappearing, I finally quit my job and began to plan my trip. In order to minimize the drama and fear, to my friends and family, I billed it as a "pilgrimage" with stops at monasteries and national parks. I made a first pass at six different monasteries and then returned to drill down at the one with which I had felt the most affinity. My experience at each one was very different; as I said in my previous post, every monastery has a different flavor. In the end, I would say that pilgrimage was a very apropos word choice--and not just a marketing term--because I learned so much about myself and about the faith I have chosen.

What follows are the insights that I gained or were poignantly reinforced during my pilgrimage.

My Beauty Language Is The Desert

There is this concept called love languages, but I have realized that we also have beauty languages. That is a truth behind the adage: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Some expressions of beauty speak more deeply to our hearts than others. In the realm of landscape, mine is definitely desert. The first monastery, St. Antony's Coptic Monastery (photos), was so beautiful to me. Situated in the midst of the Mojave Desert, the sheer beauty of the monastery facilitated my tears. I wept for three days in repentance while I prayerfully walked the monastery grounds over and over.

The importance of the desert to me came into stark contrast when I went to the other monasteries, and at each one, monks would give tours of their grounds, enthusiastically praising its beauty while in my heart I was thinking, "But everything is green. There are no sand and shrubs and barren rocks. How can I thrive here?" And my tears dried up at 4 of the remaining 5 monasteries.

St Paesia the Harlot

At St. Antony's I was arrested by an icon that I saw:


My Coptic is pretty weak, and so after puzzling over the inscription for some time, I finally took a photo and ran up to a monk and asked, "Father, please tell me who this icon is of?" He said "St. John the Dwarf and Paesia". That was enough for me to find the story online, and what a story! Please read it here. I will quote just one sentence about St. Paesia that I pray that I will keep with me for the rest of my life: "One single hour of repentance has brought her more than the penance of many who continue without showing such fervor in repentance."

What Did You Go Out Into The Wilderness To See?

The first Orthodox monastery I ever stepped into was back in January 2014. I had just got off the boat from China in December 2013, so I was fresh and clueless. I observed to the abbot how disappointed I was with the music, and he said that music at monasteries is hit and miss. If you want beautiful music, you should go to cathedrals, not monasteries. I did not understand then. But I kept the word in my heart.

On this pilgrimage, my expectation of finding beautiful music at monasteries persisted. One day during yet another musically unsatisfying office of prayer, a verse suddenly came into my mind: "What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft clothing? Behold, those who wear soft clothing are in kings’ houses." (Matthew 11:7-8 ESV) And then the verse came again modified: "What then did you go out to the wilderness to hear? Beautiful music? Behold, those who hear beautiful music are in cathedrals."

This is not to say that beautiful music is unimportant to monasteries. It is just that they have very limited resources. If none of the already extreme minority of people who are called to live in a specific monastery have musical ability, then there is no musical ability there. A lot more people attend cathedrals, and so the talent pool is bigger. Also, there is the time constraint. Since monastics are maximizing how many prayer services they can have a day and chanting takes less time than singing, most of the hymns get plain chanted.

Spiritual Impoverished But Oblivious To This Fact

Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3 ESV). I started to ask myself, "What does it mean to be spiritually poor? Does my behavior demonstrate that I actually believe that I am spiritually poor? And how would it change if I did actually believe this was true?" I felt that I got some answers on my pilgrimage.

The answer might be surprising to non-Orthodox Christians, so let me try to trace the thought process back to its beginning. I was reading Dorotheos Of Gaza: Discourses and Sayings. Dorotheos was the abbot of a monastery in Palestine who died around 565 AD, and he said some really insightful things likes these:
So it is with our evil desires: insofar as they are small to start with, we can if we want to, cut them off with ease. If we neglect them as mere trifles, they harden, and the more they harden, the more labor is needed to get rid of them. But if they grow to any degree of maturity inside us, we shall no longer be able to remove them from ourselves no matter how hard we labor unless we have the help of the saints interceding for us with God.
It is one thing to uproot a blade of grass and another to uproot a great tree. 
For there is great danger for the man who falls into the habit of indulging his evil inclinations, because as we said, such a man even if he desires it, is not able alone to cast off his evil inclinations unless he has help from some of the saints.
There is a lot going on in these sentences. Let me just highlight a few things that spoke to me:

  • As image-bearers of the Holy Trinity, we have this tremendous gift called freedom of will. And it is strong enough to resist temptations before they turn into hardened evil desires (popularly called addictions, but in Orthodoxy commonly called passions).
  • One manifestation of spiritual poverty is a heart littered with these passions, that is, a freedom of will that is compromised.
  • Being an member of the interconnected body of Christ, the intercessions of other members make it possible over even passions.

Another author brought out the fact that another way of identifying the spiritually rich from the spiritually poor is by the effectiveness of their prayers, and if I am spiritually poor and I do not fervently enlist the intercessions of others, I squander a great resource:
God's saints are great merchants, who have enriched themselves with all spiritual treasures, with all virtues: meekness, humility, abstinence, patience, great faith, hope, and love. This is why we ask their holy prayers, as poor men of rich, that they may help us in our spiritual poverty; that they may teach us how to pray and to progress in all Christian virtues; that they, having boldness before God, may pray for the remission of our past sins and protect us from fresh ones. We go to earthly merchants in their shops to buy their merchandise: shall we not have recourse to the heavenly merchants with fervent prayer, as though with silver and gold? Shall we not purchase of them their intercession for us before God for the forgiveness of sins and the bestowal of various Christian virtues? It seems very natural to do so. (St. John of Kronstadt in My Life in Christ, or Moments of Spiritual Serenity and Contemplation, of Reverent Feeling, of Earnest Self-Amendment, and of Peace in God)
Of course, as Orthodox Christians, we know that we have at our disposal not only the intercessions of our brothers and sisters on the earth who are still struggling against their own passions, but also those of saints who have already reposed and who can undistractedly intercede for us before the very throne of God. See another article I wrote on the practice of invoking the prayers of saints for more details.

So putting these thoughts all together, my indifference toward asking the saints for their intercessions betrays that I do not really consider myself to be spiritually impoverished. And conversely, if I really grasped the desperateness of my spiritual condition, I would fervidly implore the intercessions of the saints, even as a starving man would beg food.

I Dream To Use Mandarin In Ministry

As I was visiting monasteries, I kept asking myself two questions: 1) Would I have to learn another language and risk it pushing Mandarin out of my mind, just like learning Mandarin pushed French out of my mind? (apparently, I have very limited neural space). 2) Is it likely that I would be able to have interactions with Mandarin-speaking people?

The services at St. Anthony's Greek Monastery were 100% in Greek as was even the meal devotional readings. The services at St. Antony's Coptic Monastery were a mixture of Arabic, Coptic, and English. I knew that my Mandarin would be doomed at either of those.

Holy Cross Monastery effectively functions as a parish on Sunday mornings and is situated in Silicon Valley, where many Mandarin-speaking people come to work for high-tech companies. And the abbot even mentioned baptizing Chinese-speaking people. That seemed hopeful.

At St. Silouan's Monastery, the deputy abbot had spent much time in China, and a novice there had gone through intensive Mandarin training while being in the military. He said that he had counted 11 Chinese restaurants in the city of 5,000 people. I also saw a road sign that said "Chinese Camp 4 miles" nearby the monastery (this turned out to be a ghost town built when Chinese immigrants came to work in the mines). This also seemed hopeful.

It was actually in China that I had met the abbot at St. Herman's Monastery. He takes regular trips there. And there was a Chinese novice at this monastery, whom unfortunately I did not have the chance to meet. This also seemed hopeful.

But as I was reading over my 2015 2nd Quarter Personal Growth Plan, I stumbled across this line in my vision statement, and it gave me pause:
To serve as a deacon (as did the Holy Martyr and Archdeacon St. Lawrence) in a Mandarin-speaking context (as did the Holy Hierarch St. John of Shanghai).
The fact is that I invested a lot of time studying Mandarin. As my roommate knows, I have antipathy toward the word fun, but when I have an opportunity to converse in Mandarin, I will even use the word fun to describe it. And frankly I would feel sadness if I could not find a way to use it in an Orthodox ministry context before I die. I guess you could say that this is a priority for me. And at this point, the dream of using Mandarin in Orthodox ministry does not have an obvious intersection with monasticism in the US, nor have I yet discovered Chinese Orthodox parishes in anywhere in the world, much less Chinese Orthodox monasteries. So becoming a monk has begun to lose its appeal.

I Have Lived A Soft Life

I am not an outdoorsman or survivalist. I have no experience gardening or doing carpentry. I'm overweight. I can do a single pushup with just the greatest effort. The frequency with which I take off and put on clothing suggests that I have a very narrow range of comfort for body temperature. I hate sweating. I hate being cold. I cannot sleep if there is any noise or light around me. Until I found hiking, there was no form of physical exercise that I could even endure. I complain about standing for an 1.5 hour church service. I don't cook, my roommate says I cannot clean. I have the habit of checking my email every 5 minutes. And I have spent my whole adult life pushing electrons on a computer.

The fact is that while it would be possible for a person like me to adapt to the life of a monastic, the transition would be excruciating. Humanly speaking, it would be better to try to toughen up before undertaking the life of a monk. Army bootcamp lasts for 10 weeks; the monastic novitiate (the monastic bootcamp) lasts 3 years because it is so demanding. It is not a realistic proposition that in my current state I attempt a monastic life. One abbot suggested that I go home and ask my spiritual father to give me toughening obediences first.

Conclusion

In addition to all the above, I miss my friends and family terribly, and I am accustomed to the freedom to spontaneously travel. I wrote this paragraph in 2014:
I cut my catechumenal teeth on the Lives of the Saints. Their stories have captivated my imagination. I recognize that I need to be disabused of romanticized notions of monasticism. But I cannot do this in isolation. I cannot discern a monastic vacation in a vacuum. I have to experience it firsthand in order to set this longing at rest. Right now the monastic life is the greener grass on the other side of the fence. Until I taste it, I will continue pining away in fantasy.
I have tasted and seen, and I stand disabused. I am not yet ready for monasticism.

But what will I do with my life now that I quit my job and the thing that I spent five years prepping for is not a realistic option? I think it is time to get serious about Mandarin. I don't know what that will look like long-term, but I plan to spend at least the next month studying it full-time and see if I get any ideas. I have only been able to squeeze in 9 months of full-time study over the course of the last fourteen years. And now I have the time to study full-time again.

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Initial Observations After My Monastic Pilgrimage

Introduction 

I still cannot work out why ... why would anyone choose to do it ... total renunciation of all contact, of all comfort, why, why would anyone do that? And why is that a road to God? Why can't the road to God be eating tomato and basil soup and getting up and having a lovely day? Why can't that be a road to God? Why does it have to involve all of this deprivation, pain, starvation, and torture. Why? (Fr. Peter Owen-Jones)
The above quote from the BBC documentary Extreme Pilgrim--Ascetic Christianity came to my mind frequently during my own recent pilgrimage. Unlike Fr. Peter who lived as a hermit for twenty-one days, I merely visited at six different monasteries over the course of twenty days:
  1. http://www.saintantonymonasteryus.org/
  2. http://www.roea.org/holyresurrection.html
  3. http://www.holycrossmonastery.org/
  4. http://www.wadiocese.com/saint_silouan_monastery_sonora_ca.html
  5. http://www.monasteryofstjohn.org/
  6. http://sainthermanmonastery.org/
Like him I struggled to understand the relationship between authentic Christianity, asceticism, and monasticism--and their relationship to me. My own similar but different struggle was captured in a desperate voice message I left my presbyter after ten days of cold rain and unheated rooms:
What can't the ascetic struggle involve a hot shower every day with deodorant and just two hours of corporate prayer? I'm so tired of being cold, being surrounded by body odor, and seven hours of standing for prayer every day.
What follows are some of the thoughts I had as I pondered and wrestled with these questions.

Is Maximizing Comfort My Unconscious Goal?

I was so cold so much of the time, and I kept asking myself, "Why would anyone volunteer to be cold?" In other words, if I have the means to create a comfortable environment, what are some of the reasons I might choose not to avail myself of those means? I thought of all sorts of reasons in general: wanting to conserve energy to protect the environment, wanting to save money to use it on something I value more, wanting to identify better with those who cannot afford the comfort, etc. In each case, the motivation was sacrificing a perceived lower good for a perceived higher good. Thus, this behavior makes sense if it is consistent with your value system. But as an outsider, I kept wondering what was this strange value system that inspired monks to embrace the cold without complaint.

As I thought about it, I realized that the pursuit of comfort, convenience, pleasure, etc has no limit. If I can afford $1,000 of comfort (heating, delicious food, pain pills, beautiful clothes), I tend to maintain a $1,000 level of comfort. If I get a raise and can afford a $1,500 level of comfort, my standard of comfort tends to go up to, and I start to spend more money on my comfort. This leads to bigger houses, cars, meals, etc. 
On the other hand, if my incomes decreases, then my standard of comfort tends to drop--unless I have access to credit cards, in which case I fiercely fight the drop. In other words, I tend to mindlessly increase my level of comfort rather than to own it with a conscious choice. I am reminded of this verse:
Again, I saw vanity under the sun: one person who has no other, either son or brother, yet there is no end to all his toil, and his eyes are never satisfied with riches, so that he never asks, “For whom am I toiling and depriving myself of pleasure?” This also is vanity and an unhappy business. (Ecclesiastes 4:7-8 ESV)
But an unchecked and passive pursuit of comfort and pleasure is dangerous for at least these reasons:
  • The line between harmless and harmful pleasures begins to blur.
  • The line between needs and wants begins to blur.
  • I develop a sense of entitlement toward comfort, that I have the right to or deserve a certain stable (or increasing) level of comfort because, for example, I have worked hard.
  • I become indifferent to the plight of those around me because, for example, they did not work as hard as I.
  • An expectation of an increasing standard of comfort leads to increased temptation to use unethical (taking advantage of others) or unwise (going into debt) or myopic (destroying the environment) means to achieve that goal.
So if this is the case, how do you get out of the comfort cycle? You embrace simplicity. You consciously choose a standard of comfort below your means, consistently resist the urge to increase it, give away the difference to those less fortunate, and always keep in mind the fact that you are doing this not because of any nobility on your part but because keeping in check the deceitfulness of your own heart calls for desperate measures.

When I realized that this is what the monks were doing, it did not make my coldness any more bearable, but at least it made it understandable. They had consciously chosen a standard of comfort lower than the one I had pretty much unconsciously chosen for myself. And they have the right to do this. They likely know their own hearts better than I know their hearts, and they have determined what they need to do in order to break out of and keep out of that comfort-driven cycle. And there is no necessary reason to label them legalists or teachers of works salvation or hypocrites or practicers of "voluntary humility" (Colossians 2:18 KJV) or those who "give heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of devils" (1 Timothy 4:1 KJV) or any of the other epithets by which monks are commonly judged. In fact, the importance Romans 14:4 is all the more clear: "Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand" (ESV). They are the ones who have to give an account of themselves on the day of judgment, and they are vigilantly preparing for that according to their conscience.

And the same thing applies to the body odor. The first commercial deodorant did not come on the market until 1888 in the US (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deodorant). That means that for most of human history in most places of the word, deodorant was not available. In other words being in a body odor free environment is a modern, luxurious comfort. That means that for me to look down on or judge someone as irresponsible, inconvenient, inferior, uncomfortable, or foolish because they have body odor says more about the superficial, self-centered, uncharitable bondage of my own heart to pride, pleasure, and comfort than anything about the other person. In fact, when I encounter a person with body odor, I should thank the Holy Trinity for that challenge to my self-centeredness since it is an opportunity for spiritual growth. Monks have the right to choose not to use deodorant if they feel that this is the best way to guard their hearts from the deception of pleasure and comfort.

And the same thing applies to frequent, warm showering. Most of the world throughout most of human history did not have indoor, heated plumbing. So showering in the winter is a modern, luxurious comfort. Yes, I think it feels gross not to shower every day, but when I start to think that I am entitled to it, that should be a warning that I am falling prey again to the siren calls of pleasure and comfort. Monks have the right to choose not to shower frequently if they feel that this is the best way to guard their hearts from the deception of pleasure and comfort.

In summary, we are all accountable for our own actions. If someone chooses to live up to the standard of comfort that they can afford, I should not judge them. If someone consciously chooses NOT to live up to the standard of comfort that they can afford or cannot live up to my standard of comfort, I should not judge them. But it is in my best interest to prepare for the day of judgment by judiciously taking practical steps to guard my heart against the deception of comfort.

The Essence of Christian Asceticism

In the tradition of my upbringing, there was a definite anti-ascetical bias. I was raised to regard with deep suspicion and frankly prejudice anyone who invited me to refrain from any pleasure or comfort that was not sinful. As an example, it was fine for me to modify my diet for health reasons but if it was for "spiritual reasons", I would be met with warnings of legalism. Interacting with monks helped to clarify what asceticism is and is not.

First, what asceticism is NOT. Refraining from sin is NOT asceticism. Refraining from sin is merely obedience. If all I am doing is depriving myself of SINFUL pleasures, that is good, but that is not asceticism. That is base-line Christianity. That is the starting block. That means I am still functioning at the level of the "Gospel of Sin Management" as Dallas Willard once said at a conference. This is the first step, but it is still far from the goal of union with Christ and the resulting total transformation into Christlikeness, or theosis.

So, positively, what is asceticism? It is the giving up of a legitimate comfort or pleasure for a higher good. That is the basis for spiritual disciplines. Oftentimes, self-control, or the lack thereof, will bleed over from one area of your life into another. If I lack sexual self-control, a frontal assault on lust might not be as effectual as an indirect assault on it by redoubling self-control in another facet of life. For example, fighting sexual lust by dietary fasting. As self-control is gained over the lust of the tongue, it might empowers a side-effect victory over sexual lust. Or fighting greed through almsgiving.

But for many of us, even if we have repented of indulging in a specific sinful pleasure, we still desire that pleasure. How do we go from not sinning to not desiring to sin? It is the same principle, we fight the desire for sinful pleasures by voluntarily giving up our right to legitimate pleasures. Again, it is very important that I emphasize the words voluntarily and legitimate. We cooperate with the Holy Trinity in the mortification of our flesh by voluntarily saying no to a legitimate pleasure in order to weaken the power that sinful pleasure in general has over us.

I think that the ignorance of this basic Christian principle causes us to misunderstand the force of some really direct Scriptures. For example:
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control [footnote: Greek I pummel my body and make it a slave], lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified. (1 Corinthians 9:24-27 ESV)
Notice that pummel and slave are very forceful words but because of the anti-ascetical bias of their readership, the translators had to hide the real meaning in a footnote or be at risk of people rejecting their translation. The fact is that successful athletes say no to legitimate pleasures (e.g., desserts and lazing around instead of exercising) in order to equip themselves for success. In the same way, successful Christians exercise the spiritual muscle of saying no sinful pleasures by strategically saying no to legitimate pleasures.
Have nothing to do with irreverent, silly myths. Rather train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come. (1 Timothy 4:7-8 ESV)
Most of the time, I heard people use this verse to put down the importance of physical exercise. But that is not the force of passage. Rather, it is saying that given the importance of physical exercise, how much more important is spiritual exercise. That verb translated train in Greek is gymnazō, from which we get gymnasium, and it literally means "to exercise naked". Few people question that wearing clothing is a good thing, so it is all the more appropriate to use clothing as a metaphor for any legitimate pleasure that gets in the way of our spiritual fitness. That is part of what is going on in the following Scripture:
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:1-2 ESV)
In order to endure the Christian race to the end, we need to not only lay aside sin, but also every weight, that is, distractions (often time legitimate pleasures) that slow us down and sap our spiritual energy. I think this is where Paul was going when he wrote this:
“All things are lawful for me,” but not all things are helpful. “All things are lawful for me,” but I will not be dominated by anything. (1 Corinthians 6:12 ESV)
A pleasure might be lawful but if it tends toward addiction or spiritual distraction, it is better to give it up for the higher good. At the monastery, I was pruning a tree and uprooting things a monk called "suckers", and all of a sudden two passages from the Gospel came alive:
Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. (John 15:2 ESV)
And he said to the vinedresser, ‘Look, for three years now I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none. Cut it down. Why should it use up the ground?’ And he answered him, ‘Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure. Then if it should bear fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’” (Luke 13:7-9 ESV)
In the first passage, the leaves that are pruned are not weeds or parasites, they are part of the plant. However, they redirect energy from fruitfulness, just like legitimate pleasures can. In the second passage, the fruitless tree was using up resources that other trees could use to be even more fruitful. Again, it was a fig tree--not a weed--but if it fruitlessly distracted other trees from being as fruitful, it was to be cut down. The same is true about legitimate pleasures and comforts that are at risk of distracting us. I think that is one thing Jesus is pointing at when he said this:
From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. (Matthew 11:12 ESV)
This is not talking about militaristic Crusades or Christian jihad. This is talking about decisively saying no to any legitimate pleasure that distracts from the kingdom of heaven. Eating locust and wild honey and wearing camel hair, John the Baptist is an icon of Christian asceticism. He said no to legitimate comforts and pleasures for the greater good. And when we desire to be a prophetic witness for Christ, but do not want to circumvent the ascetic means to that end, Jesus says to us that insistence on legitimate pleasures (as exemplified by soft clothes) will not get us there:
What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft clothing? Behold, those who wear soft clothing are in kings’ houses. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. (Matthew 11:7-9 ESV)
So, in summary, asceticism is giving up legitimate pleasures for the sake of a higher good. Examples of these higher goods include the weakening of the power of sinful pleasure over us and the removing of things that sap our limited spiritual resources and prevent fruitfulness. And all Christians are called to the ascetic struggle.

Monasticism vs Asceticism

Therefore let us leave the elementary doctrine of Christ and go on to maturity, not laying again a foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God .... (Hebrews 6:1 ESV)
Repentance from dead works is foundational. It is the first step. There are those (including myself much of the time) who are still in the stage of their spiritual development where the Gospel is still just about sin management. I would characterize this as minimal Christianity--how to minimize vice. But God wants us all to move on toward maturity, that is maximal Christianity--how to maximize virtue. Maximal fruitfulness, maximal Christlikeness, winning the maximal prize, taking the kingdom in our lives by maximal force.

So, we are ALL called to the ascetic struggle toward maximal Christianity, and there are two broad approaches to it: monastic and non-monastic. Again, neither is better, they both can lead to theosis or Christlikeness, but each of us has different needs and backgrounds and chooses our own path accordingly. In other words, monasticism is just one way to implement our universal ascetic vocation as Christians.

Why Is It Valid to Have Multiple Approaches

The fact is that God calls each of us down different paths to achieve that same goal of maximal Christianity. Joseph and Daniel served at high levels in government, and Abraham was rewarded for his obedience with great wealth. On the other hand, Elijah was so poor that a raven fed him while a queen hunted for his life, and John the Baptist lived in the wilderness and lost his head for his witness. It should not surprise us when God's providence in our lives looks different:
Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone ... Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret? (1 Corinthians 12:4-6, 29-30 ESV)
The problem arises when the eye says to the hand or the head to feet, "I have no need of you." Or applied to the question under discussion, when the non-monastic says to the monastic, "The path you chose for pursuing maximal Christianity is not valid." We have to stop judging when our paths look different from others who also are pursuing maximal Christianity according to their own conscience.

The Distinctives of the Monastic Approach

Monastics, deeply aware of their own personal brokenness and weakness, have determined that they can stay true to the ascetic struggle in the pursuit of maximal Christianity ONLY IF they live in a highly disciplined environment. Accordingly, they choose to live in a highly disciplined, close-knit intentional community for mutual support. Every monastery has its own flavor, but there are certainly monasteries where the agreed upon discipline is more demanding than military service. I read an article about a guy who was the last officer to receive the highest distinction in the Soviet Union, the title Hero of the Soviet Union. Last year he became a monk. He said an interesting thing in an interview:
Let me tell you something.  There are three kinds of endeavor: in war, in the world, which is everyday life, and monastic endeavor.  I have experience in all three. I went to war, I lived in the world and was married, now I am in a monastery. 
Let me tell you something, monastic endeavor is much harder than the others. I would rank it as the hardest! Yet I’d rank it as the most joyful as well…They say if people only knew how hard it can be in monasticism, nobody would become a monk. But if they knew what joy belongs to monks, everyone would become monastics. (http://www.pravmir.com/monk-kyprian-being-in-battle-is-easier-than-being-a-monk/)
Furthermore, all monastics have determined that God is calling them to apply four Biblical principles in a radical way and take vows to support that determination. I explore these in detail in a different article Thoughts on Monastic Vows, but I reproduce them here briefly:
  • Chastity through celibacy
  • Generosity through poverty
  • Obedience through submission
  • Commitment through stability
Other distinctives of the monastic approach to asceticism is what I would call a radical intentionality in applying certain verses. Most notably:
  • "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you" (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 ESV). Monastics often prefer manual work over mental work because it allows them more easily to practice the presence of God constantly while their mind is not occupied analyzing.
  • "Seven times a day I praise you for your righteous rules" (Psalm 119:164 ESV). Monastics tend to have numerous corporate prayer meetings each day knowing that prayer is the engine behind spiritual transformation.
  • "Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching" (1 Timothy 4:13 ESV). Monastics tend to set aside large blocks of time each day for corporate listening to the reading aloud of the Bible--especially the Psalms.
  • "Addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart ..." (Ephesians 5:19 ESV). In addition to the public reading of Psalms, there is also the public reading of hymn texts. This might seem odd at first, but it is not a given that anyone in the community is skilled enough that their singing of the hymn would not introduce distraction.

Summary

On my pilgrimage, I was confronted by the fact that we Christians all are called to ascetic struggle, but that struggle is going to look different for different people. For most people, it will involve living in the world (but not being worldly). However, there are a small but historically significant group of people who knowing the state of their own heart realized that they could not maintain the ascetic struggle while being in close proximity to worldliness and took radical steps. These monastics form intentional communities of people covenanting together to create an safe environment for their ascetic struggle.

Now, the next big question is whether I see myself as having a monastic calling. Hopefully, I will come up with an answer to that for my next blog post.