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When I took a religious vow, in the mid-1990s, to live a Rule of Life, I realized it was a commitment to live as a monk in an unmonk-society. Indeed, "monk" is monos, meaning "alone." So, it seems a contradiction, or at least impossible calling, to live aloneness in a society and church, too, that resists aloneness.
Fortunately, as with hermits and monks in cloisters, being alone is not merely physical separation--anyway, being physically alone does not mean one is spiritually in solitude--; rather, solitude is a way of being and depth of existing amidst other persons and in relationship with the Triune Mystery. The monk does not do this just for himself or herself; rather, inner solitude is a public witness to the Call of the Christ for intimate union between the Holy Spirit Herself and each person.
I have imperfectly followed that path of solitude. I find it quite challenging and fun to attempt to live such a life in the midst of a culture that does not share the same values. I have found it challenging to live that way in relationships with persons who do not share that way of being.
To temper the life of a monastery and fit it into my home, life, work, and relationships is enriching, even when it befuddles those who know me. However, honestly, I befuddle myself quite often, as those who know me best do know. I find it quite unappealing and boring to live a life free of oddity and befuddlement, anyway.
However, to be different is painful at times. How does the man or woman who follows a contemplative path, who sees the world as a monastery, fit in with other persons? How does a person with contemplative priorities and values survive and, more, thrive in the institutional aspects of the church? Every time I see myself getting overly concerned with the business side of church life, I feel myself losing touch with what is the most important--my love and compassion for persons, and this comes from the contemplative Center, not outer beliefs and regulations and goals. But, again, many denominational leaders--indeed, likely most--do not lead and, thus, seek to shape pastoral leaders who lead from the Center. How can those persons who do not live and lead from the Inner Sanctuary lead other persons to do so? They cannot--so, a great need is not necessarily better educated clergypersons, but more spiritual clergypersons: and this applies to denominational leaders, also and equally.
But what is the path of a monk in the world--a monk who wants to integrate "secular" and "religious" life in the Centrum, the Holy of Holies of the Heart? Thomas Moore, in Meditations, notes traits of a monk life. Among the traits is an intense sensitivity to interior thoughts and feelings. The aspirate, likewise, is openly sensitive to the presence of others. Moore reminds us that in modern life it may seem that real work is located in the "heroics of surviving and succeeding in the world." However, the monk accepts the challenge of "nonheroic intimacy with oneself, others, and the world." A monk chooses intimacy over heroics--and, such is the path of Humility exemplified in the passion of The Christ. Basically, then, persons are more important than things and the aspirate refuses to live among others with his or her own heart closed up. Even his or her Inner Solitude is only a closing to be and become increasingly open to Creation: however, at a depth of the Mind and Compassion of Christ beyond those who do not practice the depth of Inner Intimacy that he or she does.
So, I return to the question, "How does one embrace the values of a contemplative in a culture with the contrary values?" Yes, even the churches present this same challenge often--indeed, usually. Often in our general culture and our churches persons are honored for heroics. However, the most heroic thing we can do, ironically, is open our hearts and souls to feel deeply everything and all persons, and this can occur only with the spirit of the monk: the man or woman who befriends and is intimate with the depths of his or her own Being-in-God.
So, we have a choice. We can be heroic. Or, ironically, we can choose the most demanding path known to humankind. That path is the way of Jesus. Jesus is portrayed as remaining open in compassion and intimacy with nature and persons. Jesus touched and allowed himself to be touched; this symbolized openness to giving and receiving. He let himself be anointed with expensive perfume by a woman, while his disciples murmured that it was a waste of money. The disciples' response was a typical response--efficiency and proficiency over meaning and intimacy. Jesus often ate with persons, as when he did invite himself into a tax collector's home. The table with food is a symbol of sensitivity and sharing in an intimatic context. The Presence of Intimacy invited other persons to a spiritual level of feasting together. The Revelation portrays Jesus knocking to be invited into one's home, one's heart--another symbol of closeness and togetherness.
For a monk, then, he or she trusts a depth of aloneness allows him or her a depth of contact with the Living Spirit that transforms the self to feel and know others and God at a level impossible otherwise. And, that few persons fail to follow this practice of Solitude does not negate its priority and need, but only accents our fashionable laziness in matters of the Spirit.
*OneLife writings are offered by Brian K. Wilcox, a United Methodist pastor serving in the Florida Conference of the United Methodist Church. He writes in the spirit of John Wesley's focus on the priority of inner experience of the Triune God; scriptural holiness; ongoing sanctification; the goal of Christian perfection (or, wholeness). Brian seeks to integrate the best of the contemplative teachings of Christianity East and West, from the patristic Church to the present. Brian lives a vowed contemplative life with his two dogs, Bandit Ty and St. Francis, in North Florida. OneLife writings are for anyone seeking to live and share love, joy, and peace in the world and in devotion to God as she or he best understands God.
**Expanded and Revised Edition of writing from 2001.
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