It is not surprising that several guests at Friday’s Royal Wedding were anonymously quoted as “feeling jaded” yesterday. Anticipation of great events is commonly followed by a drained numbness, even if the event meets elevated expectations. Life thus passes by as a series of interspersed highs and, if not lows, mediocre neutrals. Is this the sum total of the human experience?
Man has historically found three ways to neutralise this nihilistic perspective: fame, religion and propagation.
Fame, with its associated glamour, can be fleeting or it can last a lifetime. Occasionally it outlasts its originating source and is considered worthy – or notorious – enough to be important to historical and cultural record. Whether transient or semi-permanent, its nourishment to the famous person is thin when weighed against the permanence of death. It can sustain the mind in the short-term, but is ultimately lacking.
To combat this failure of Temporal Power to assuage anomie, religion developed to offer believers escape from death, whether through reincarnation or heaven. Such Spiritual Might remains a comfort to many, channelling and guiding human emotion into soothingly predictable paths. Like Temporal Power, it offers individuals a larger sense of self that is part of a grander existence than Hobbes’ description of Man’s life as “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”.
But for many, meaningful fame is impossible (the Warhol-esque 15 minutes of reality TV or social networking hardly counts) and religious faith escapes them, or is actively shunned. Frequently, their final refuge is propagation and it is a rare parent indeed that does not think of their children as the best thing they ever did.
Creating the next generation is certainly a valuable role; I would not want to see the human species wiped out! But does it truly offer a solution to the impermanence of man? I suggest not; the real essence of even the best of parents is lost from collective memory within at most four generations. As long as the parent does not think too deeply about this inevitable historical dissipation, Familial Legacy can substitute for either Temporal Power or Spiritual Might and stave off despair at the prospect of death.
What if none of the above are to the liking of the individual, if all are thought to fail the essential test of overcoming fear of death and giving life meaning, what then?
Enter the Modern-Day Monk.
The archetype of the man who seeks spiritual enlightenment through disengagement from the world is an ancient one. We see echoes of his presence in all the major world religions, mythologies and philosophies. Traditionally, the Monk has sought physical separation from the world; either to wander alone or in the company of select fellow travellers on a similar journey. He has used asceticism as a tool to aid enlightenment. Asceticism encourages the abandonment of sensual pleasure and material wealth, deeming these to be distractions from personal growth.
The Modern-Day Monk follows a different path to individuation. It is not physical abandonment of the world that is important, but intellectual detachment. This detachment from the value systems of others (the Temporal, Spiritual and Familial spheres) nonetheless permits material and emotional engagement with the world. He is able to weigh up and measure situations and people rapidly, allowing only positive effects through to his inner self. He comes across to others as tolerant and moderate, as he has no need to be otherwise. He enjoys the world, but does not let the world rule his inner heart. And in the face of new challenges, he has an inner core of willpower – a clear sense of self – to neutralise against torment.
The more philosophically (or religiously) minded will have already identified the characteristics outlined in the preceding four sentence as the Four Cardinal Virtues: Prudence, Temperance, Justice, and Fortitude respectively. The virtues are named Cardinal for being the hinge (L. cardo) upon which rests the door of life. It is not the door to a physical retreat from the world as the first step to an afterlife. It is a system to support and enhance our human desire to be part of the world, while not being ruled by it.
The Modern-Day Monk lives well, as well as wisely.
What a great post, and what a brilliant way to live. Tell me: Are there any modern day monk training colleges out there, or is there an Open University option?
It’s a work in progress for all of us, I think! More of an ideal state of mind or an aspiration. I don’t think such equanimity is always possible, but it’s an archetype I rather like the idea of aiming for.
Funnily enough, I hear that there are a couple of regular monasteries now offering holiday packages for guests to come and live like a (old-style) monk. Kind of cool, though I think I’d miss my creature comforts and mod cons rather quickly…
“No internet, you say? But how am I supposed to commune with the Almighty if I can’t email him?!”
(thanks for the positive feedback; it is appreciated, as always!)
This is one to think about. It reminds me of what is important.
Glad you wrote it and put it out there.
For me the Taizé community in France is my model. But I am not a brother of Taizé, and therefore my own way must be — my own way.
(There is no way. Roads are made by walking.)
A most stimulating and inspiring post. Thank you.
For further reading see ‘Punk Monk’ by Andy Freemand and Pete Greig and ‘Finding Happiness’ by Abbot Christopher Jamison.
Christopher Jamison describes the route to monastic happiness as a journey towards ‘purity of heart’ or ‘freedom of spirit’. To achieve this he suggests we can follow the example of the early desert fathers and mothers who identified ‘Eight Thoughts’ which have the potential to throw us off balance:
acedia (loss of enthusiasm for the spiritual life)
gluttony
lust
greed
anger
sadness
vanity
pride
The huge number of young people who travel from all over the world to Taize or Taize meetings every year is evidence that ‘acedia’ has at last been rejected, as is the story of the spontaneous growth of the worldwide 24-7 prayer movement described in ‘Punk Monk’.
Personally, I am glad that it is possible to follow a monastic rule, as members of the Third Order of St Francis do today, while still living and working in the world, and that it is no longer considered helpful to become anchorites who walled themselves into three-windowed cells and lived on the patronage of the landed gentry!
Another stimulating post, Chris. I have been mulling over for years, and months, weeks, hours, minutes, possibly even nano-seconds, the meaning/meanings of “spirituality” and all that. Do people despair at death, or do they “fear” it? I myself, identify more with the “fear” aspect – momentary, as all of our experience is. Despair seems to arise from an avoidance of the primary fear reaction and thus a more elongated “experience”- almost, I sometimes think, actually “creating” the very space/time which is experienced. Not true, I’m sure, but an intuition which seems to be very robust at that “moment” of intuiting. Methinks monks would be better off meditating equally on M-theory and the “Laws” of thermodynamics, as God. An equal pathway to the Infinite, methinks.
My father died a couple of weeks ago. He knew what was happening but he did not fear death because he knew he was going to meet ‘Almighty God’, as he called him. He had only one desire – to see all his family one last time. On his last day he waited for my mother to arrive and then simply ‘let go’ and became peaceful after two months of poor health and a couple of days of laboured breathing.
I contrast this experience with that of other gentlemen I saw in hospital with my father who were also close to death but who spent their time moaning and crying out. There I think is the fear you refer to.
No better place for contemplating the meaning of life than the geriatric ward of your local hospital.
That resonates with me as I worked for many years on “psycho-geriatric” wards (an awful term) and have seen people suffer dementia and death from the serene to the tortured ends of the spectrum of experience. Dying well is the central preoccupation of many systems of philosophical and religious belief and when one has seen someone die “badly” it is no wonder why. I am glad your father had a peaceful death and suspect his serenity resonates in your family.
Thank you all for the interesting replies; it’s great to hear all your ideas.
“Agnes”: Regarding acedia as a concept – there are some obvious parallels between this and anomie. In a way, it may be conceptually useful to consider acedia is a subset, or special case, of anomie. Anomie would also have a wider, non-spiritual, component of becoming abstracting from _any_ higher sense of order and belonging, whether temporal or spiritual.
Belief systems are very important. I don’t necessarily think it has to be a religious belief system, but some sort of belief system is vital to remaining, well, vital! It could be a metaphysical or a physical model (as John mentions) or if you’re particularly strong-willed, even just believing strongly in yourself.
I see a lot of what you write about reflected in the Jewish ideals of living within the world but taking care to use everything for a spiritual purpose. It promotes an awareness of being which I believe is meant to ensure that even the simple things are not taken for granted, that actions are carefully considered, and that the highs and lows of life can be taken in stride. I think that’s part of the value of a ritualised lifestyle, which gives structure and meaning to support a person through otherwise overwhelming events, both good and bad. How important do you think ritual is in forming belief systems? I recently wrote an article on my own blog about how I believe ritual can help to form a consistent sense of self which I would appreciate having your thoughts on (http://michaelakay.wordpress.com/2012/02/19/the-right-rites-the-role-of-ritual-in-society-and-self/).
Thanks again for another very interesting post!
Michael.
I think you’re right to point to the impact of attitude in developing belief systems. Rituals can perhaps be seen as the external marker of an inner attitude to life, and a shared religious ritual acts as a way of affirming adherence to that religion’s agreed set of attitudes. Most religions have these.
I find it really interesting that you can see a lot of what I write in Jewish ideals; I’ve had other people note that there’s a Christian or even Hindu element to some of it. I myself can see parallels to Buddhist structures of thought. I suspect what is being noted is a willingness to accept that spiritual does matter, in terms of trying to find and maintain a sense of self/inner-peace.
Where I would perhaps differ from your perspective is that I was unable to find that within the rituals of a single pre-existing religious framework so have tried to develop an outlook personalised to my own mindset. Given that, there are naturally fewer rituals! But there is an active attempt to refine and maintain a certain attitude to life (and death). Which, I suppose, is its own sort of ritual.
Thanks! I expect most religions contain some similar elements, although the focus of each will differ slightly, and within religions there will be plenty of variety. I can only speak for one particular strand of orthodoxy, and not for others, let alone non-orthodox forms of Judaism. All I would note regarding building your own framework is that I can see how it must surely be harder to use it to ground an individual within a community. Personally I prefer the more timeless nature of my religion, more free from the quirks and fancies of particular eras of history. But I appreciate your approach, I hope it grants you contentment.