Anarchist’s Dilemma: Rules V-VII

Thirteen Shades of Humility (or why “downward mobility” is not enough)

Rules V-VII:  Obedience, Silence and Humility

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I read this book during my undergrad.  It was the first time I remember coming across the phrase “downward mobility” – one of Nouwen’s pet ways of couching the Incarnation.  Christ demonstrated downward mobility when becoming human.  Our hope in obtaining the freedom that the resurrected life has in story is in the imitation of Christ’s downward mobility.  That’s not a bad way of framing the Incarnation and what discipleship looks like.  But does “downward mobility” really capture the moment of the Incarnation?  I’d like to come back to this in a New Orleanian minute (it’s going to be a little while).

I’m starting out my interaction of St. Benedict’s Rule with downward mobility because I’ve come across this phrase in a number of different articles and blogs every day for this past week.  Also, every day for this past week I have read and re-read these rules and what has emerged has been an interesting juxtaposition.  I have very little desire to be “that guy” who picks up on a trend and in a pseudo theological hipster fashion deconstruct, dismiss and make others feel like they’ve missed a much larger point in their own engagements with downward mobility.  I would like to believe that is not a part of my character and I hope others would agree.  However, it just doesn’t sit well with me when we couch Christ’s Incarnation and incarnational modes of ministry in terms of downward mobility.  I’d like to breakdown why into three streams of thought that are still very much open ended:

  1. Sociologically when speaking about mobility we are talking about mobility between social classes.  This whole paradigm is born out of the Enlightenment.  The Divine Right of Kings (which bled into aristocratic circles) no longer gave the ruling class an inherent sense of privilege and power when each individual became endowed with a sense of sovereignty.  Through the creation the nation state, the Industrial Revolution and the rise of capitalism what once was a caste system became more fluid and mobility was possible.  The meaning of upward and downward mobility is self-evident but underlying these concepts are fundamentally modernist principles.  The individual is sovereign and has the choice to go up or down.  The poor are poor because of the lifestyle choices they made and the rich got to where they are at because they earned it.  The vocabulary of social mobility (and therefore its praxis) is almost entirely composed by capitalism.  Tell me if you’ve heard this line in the last couple of years – “In light of our recent recession many consumers are becoming more and more downwardly mobile”.  Upward mobility is the Enlightenment process of shifting away from a communitarian system of support and toward becoming a “self-made” person.  This is more nuanced but it looks like anything from a person finally moving out of their parent’s basement to a successful minority who “got out” of their old neighborhood and made something of themselves.I bring all of this up to draw out a simple conclusion:  The modern project controls the rules of this game.  When we use “downward mobility” as a locus of meaning for engaging our neighborhoods and cities incarnationally we are playing according our culture’s own terms.  The trend toward downward mobility doesn’t levy a real critique on the inherent, systemically oppressive mechanisms within class mobility.  Downward mobility seems to only shift which direction on this vertical scale is to be preferred.  This shift in desire toward simplicity, community and solidarity with those who suffer from the Empire is a very good thing.  However, from my christian point of view, I believe the telos of the Eucharistic community is the elimination of social class (cf. Galatians 3, 1 Corinthians 11-14, and Revelation 21) and downward mobility in of itself doesn’t do the job.
  2. Although our culture generally looks positively upon upward mobility and rather negative towards its counterpart the goodness of mobility is determined by context.  Using the desire for upward mobility as an example – I work at a drug and alcohol rehab facility.  When our clients leave this facility, retain a full time job and move out of the enabling culture he or she was previously a part of that is both being upwardly mobile and a good thing.  The disappointment college students all across the country encounter from their parents when they decide to become a school teacher, a social worker or community organizer in one of the poorest 500 zip codes instead of becoming the lawyer or doctor the parents expect their children to become is not a good thing.  My concern with changing our culture’s preference to downward mobility is the elitism that can and does come with it.  It turns the table on the rich (not necessarily a bad thing) and makes them feel less than.  Ultimately the question of which mobility is better is about who has the power and maybe, just maybe, we should surrender this political power, the ability to make ourselves into what our cultures deems as “something”, to the One who has made us into His own Image.  Social mobility does not possess the capacity or authority to make such a surrender like the incarnated Body of Christ.
  3. Finally, downward mobility is a good starting point.  There is so much wealth in this country that has been acquired unjustly and even cruelly – of which much of the Church is complicit.  There needs to be a voice crying out from the wilderness “Repent!  For the Kingdom of God is very, very near!”.  The Rich need to take seriously the parable of the Lazarus and the Rich Man if they are going to survive Judgement Day.  I believe, for a couple of reasons, that the Incarnation is a three dimensional model of what downward mobility sketches out on a scrap piece of paper.  First, every Christian who is pursuing their calling will face many situations on their journey where they find themselves on their knees begging God to take this cup away from them.  When we make that agonizing choice in those dark nights of the soul to obediently respond with “Not my will, but yours be done” our downward mobility is transformed into living incarnationally.  The downwardly mobile are still empowered with an individualistic sense of sovereignty that must be surrendered if they want to experience the Incarnation.  Second, the Incarnation story (Jesus’ life, death and resurrection) provides us a new language that transforms the capitalist/consumer dialect that describe social class.  A couple of posts ago I wrote about my journey into the Catholicism about Christ’s adamic act of renaming what our world has already classified into specific categories.  Christ created a new reality that was so foreign that Paul called it a colony of heaven, not of this world.  In this process of renaming Christ called the rich poor and the poor rich.  This is our reality that we are called to inhabit and perhaps this is where downward mobility contrasts with the Incarnation the most for social mobility agrees with what the world calls rich and poor.  One of the fundamental questions of this series is concerned with is what it looks like to inhabit this new reality.  Downward mobility is a great starting point but we must go further than this.  We must continue the process of the transformation of our minds (cf. Romans 12) so that we may be able to see the new realities that are ever unfolding before us, to be able to recognize that the Kingdom is truly in our midst.

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So, that’s what a New Orleanian minute looks like.  I do not believe downward mobility wholly captures the Incarnation any more than my smartphone can capture the majesty of the sunset over the bayou in the spring time.  How then, can we transform downward mobility into incarnational engagement?  In these three chapters St. Benedict’s answer is “humility, humility, humility” or what I call “St. Benny’s Thirteen Shades of Humility”.  I’ve taken a little bit of license with this list in  an attempt to translate concepts like “Abbot” and “Superior” to more applicable situations in my community life.

  1. An unreserved, unhesitating obedience to Christ. (From chapter five)
  2. Constant awareness of our imperfection and that we, too, will have to stand Judgement.  
  3. Total adoration of God’s will.
  4. Imitating Christ in our obedience to our superiors.
  5. Patience
  6. Transparency and vulnerability on “where we’re at” with our community.
  7. Being perfectly content with this place and situation God has called us to.
  8. Consider others more important than ourselves.
  9. To live according to a rule of life.
  10. Embrace Silence.  Do not be in love with the sound of your own voice.  Actively listen for God’s voice in the other people around the table.
  11. Have a sense of humor that is seasoned with purity and grace.
  12. Speak to others with gentleness and humility.
  13. Maintain a constant posture of the knowledge that God is God and we are not.


Let us feel deeply our own poverty.  Let us faithfully inhabit this new reality by continuing the Lord’s work in saving the dignity of what the Empire calls undignified, lazy, dirty and dumb.  Let us pray that Christ does not delay his return any longer so that the captives will be set free, the blind will see and holistic freedom will come to all who are oppressed.  St. Athanasius, the one who gave the Church the imagination to rightly understand the Incarnation, pray for us on your fest day.  Amen.

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Anarchist’s Dilemma: Rule IV

How to Build a City

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Rule IV:  Instruments of Good Works

Go ahead, read this entire chapter.  It’s not very long and this online version of the Rule makes it easy by enumerating the “instruments” that St. Benedict lists.  How does this kind of list make you feel?

I felt a number of emotions.  Intimidation was a big one.  Whenever I see a list of rules I automatically go to places of self doubt and feeling inadequate.  How could I every hope to live up to this standard?  I was also frustrated when meditating on this list because this list of rules comes off as quite oppressive for this post-Enlightenment mind.  If this is what it means to live in “true” community then I’m out; this sounds a bit cultish to me.  Finally, I also felt a bit self-righteous.  These rules are for a specific group of people living outside of the city in a manufactured bubble.  I’m trying to live in community in the “real world” and if I, for example, “treasured chastity” that would destroy my marriage.  No, a lot of these rules are a bit archaic and I live in a world that has evolved a bit since Benedict left Rome.

I actually spent a few days wrapped up in these rules trying to justify my way out of a few (I do think I have a reasonable point on chastity), checking off the ones I think I’m doing alright in ( I haven’t killed anybody or stolen anything) and brushing off other ones as “unreasonable” (to keep death before one’s eyes daily).  However, I didn’t go too far down that road before I was reminded of the story of a young, rich man who once approached Jesus.  One of the many sermons one could draw out from that story is that it wasn’t so much that this young man was living in a particular sin as it was that he totally missed the point of the law – a single minded devotion to God.  This devotion could arguably be the most key or central virtue for the Christian life.  Love of God creates a love of neighbor and the rest of the law hangs on it, or so the story goes.

So lets talk about Virtue.  This isn’t meant to be a lesson in ethics but to understand Virtue theory we need to be familiar with some of the basic components involved.  First, Virtue beings with learning a skill.  If patience is a virtue then it starts with waiting until it is your turn to talk in the conversation.  When you practice that skill over and over it becomes a habit.  Patience as a habit looks like becoming content in waiting for whatever it is you’re waiting for.  The habit is in not being anxious to hear about whether you got that pay raise or not being frustrated at the barista (who makes minimum wage with no benefits) as he or she takes a while to your triple tall upside down, inside out, soy extra foam caramel machiatto.  As the habit develops (being able to wait in contentment for a longer and longer period of time) you become a patient person.  For virtue there is a certain trajectory of learning a skill to building a habit to character development.  Second, Virtue is both tested and developed within a virtuous community.  We simply do not develop our good and bad habits (vices) in a vacuum.  Third, we develop our character for a purpose.  Aristotle considered this purpose to be for the creation of a just, thriving and peaceful city.  I’ve glossed over a lot but those are the basic elements to Virtue theory.

What on earth does this have to do this chapter in the Rule?  I didn’t make this connection until I spent some time contemplating the final couple of sentences (did you read them?).  In this online version Benedict’s words are translated as “these are the instruments of the spiritual art” (italics mine).  In the version I’m working with this line is translated as “the tools of the spiritual craft”.  I grab on to this latter version because I have very little artistic blood in me but to develop a craft is something I can really resonate with.  These 73 rules are tools to develop a spiritual craft and what an appropriate way to describe the process of cultivating the particular virtue I’ve been writing about – a single minded devotion to God.  Yes, but what do these rules have to do with any of this?  Rules are an integral part to building any habit or learning any craft.  In his book on Virtue N.T. Wright compares this whole process to learning a new language as an adult:

You will often get it wrong, but it’s worth persisting for the goal, the telos, of what lies ahead. . .even in languages quite like our own, there will be a large amount of vocabulary which just has to be memorized. This requires mental effort, the conscious, acted-out intention to imprint these patterns, with their physical out-workings. . .aiming at the point when they will happen without effort and indeed without conscious thought.
- N.T. Wright, After you Believe: Why Christian Character Matters pg. 40

What he is talking about is the painstaking process of becoming fluent in a new language.  You have to practice and learn and memorize the rules (grammar and syntax) of the language before you can master it.  When we couch these seventy three rules in terms of virtue their purpose comes into sharp focus.  They are the grammar and syntax for the language of the imitatio Christi.  Take a look at the list again and tell me we wouldn’t be more like Christ if we mastered even just a few of these linguistic rules.

What of the City?

These rules aren’t so much an oppressive, puritanical list of dos and don’ts as they are “instruments” for creating a just, thriving and peaceful community.  The stability that comes out of people practicing this soul-craft together – which Benedict mentions only in passing – is the bedrock for living incarnationally.  Theologically, the stability of the trinitarian community from where Jesus operated out of made the drama of the incarnation (his life, death and resurrection) possible.  Mimetically, we can only engage with our neighborhoods and cities incarnationally if we are operating out of this sort of stability Benedict mentions.  As a direct result of this stability the virtuous incarnational community most aptly demonstrate for the City what it has the potential to become.  This demonstration is much more than a mere show and tell, it is the act of prefiguration.  Prefiguration is an important component to anarchist theory because it is not only tangible model of what life would be like after the revolution but also a mechanism of persuasion for “the people”.  To tie that into this context, the virtuous christian community demonstrates for the City what justice, hospitality, peace and reconciliation really look like in communal life.  The communal life that is ever working towards becoming fluent in the language found in this chapter is also it’s own method of persuasion as people interact with what we call justice, mercy, hospitality and so on.  The idea is that more people will be persuaded enough to live like us so we can practice this soul-craft together.  Here we see that this soul-craft is much more than the practices of an individual or a community – it is the process of rebuilding the City from the inside out.

It wasn’t the amazing architecture, the five star restaurants or places of entertainment that made a city great for Aristotle.  What made a city great was whether or not the inhabitants were virtuous because the people as the fundamental building blocks of the polis.  This is no less true for the Church.  It isn’t our impressive cathedrals, the awesome programs we run or even whether or not we have a celebrity pastor on stage that makes our churches great.  The church’s greatness is wholly dependent on virtues her inhabitants possess.  We need our Church to be great so that together we may possess the capacity to prefigure the City of God for our cities here on earth and to be a part of the rebuilding until the Lord returns.

If there is anything we can take away from St. Benedict it is that this sort of rebuilding – the “spiritual art” – begins with a list of rules that when put into practice transform our character to be more and more like Christ.

On becoming Catholic

To The Curious

I’ve only made mention of it a couple of times- and always in passing – but over the last several months on almost every Tuesday night I have made my way over to our local parish and attended the RCIA class they put on. RCIA stands for the “Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults” and it was essentially a catechism for adults who were exploring the possibility of getting confirmed into the Roman Catholic Church. The process turned out to be more of a time of spiritual formation than it did an official “class” as we worked our way through the meaning of the sacraments, the liturgy and prayer. It was a time of honest dialog between people ranging from cradle Catholics who are going through this so their upcoming marriage can be blessed by the Church, to skeptical protestants (me) to parishioners who miss the good ol’ days of Vatican I. After all my questions, doubts and concerns they were still ready to confirm me. My ecclesiology has always been the same: if x church community will have me I will have them. So, on Sunday April 14th I took my First Communion and officially became a part of the Roman Catholic Church.

When I posted my Confirmation Certificate on my Twitter and Facebook I experienced a mixed reception. There were a lot of notes with well wishes and congratulations. Some have communicated that they are unsure of my salvation now – to which I’ve responded that I’ve always been unsure and that’s sort of the point. I also received a couple of emails and private messages from people I haven’t talked to in a while asking me out of complete curiosity why I’ve decided to “convert”. This post is mostly in response to those curious about my faith.

It starts with the Restoration Movement

It’s true, I blame Alexander Campbell and Bart W. Stone for this because they started a movement with certain values that would eventually be passed down to me Values like: “In essentials, unity. In non-essentials liberty and in all things, charity” or “Christians only but not the only Christians”. During a place and time during American Church History where any doctrinal disagreements was cause for schism these two men from opposite ends of the theological spectrum decided they weren’t going to let their disagreements prevent them from taking communion with one another. Thus the “non-deominational” church was born and that posture of charity toward those who I don’t see eye to eye with has enabled me to stay at the table in many other contexts. Because of this heritage that I have been brought up in I have always seen myself as a Christian practicing in x-tradition. I have been a Christian practicing in the Lutheran, Presbyterian, Anglican, Four-Square, Anabaptist traditions. Now, I’m a Christian practicing in the Roman Catholic tradition.

In this age of mobility why not just find a Church of Christ church and go there on Sundays? Why does it have to be Catholic? The answer is really just a pragmatic one. I live in a city that is deeply influenced by catholicism and in a community that seeks to incarnationally engage with the culture of our neighborhood. To understand some of the idiosyncrasies of New Orleans we have to learn about the RCC. Not only is becoming catholic the easiest and most effective way to do that BUT it is also a huge gateway to be considered a part of the culture.

Also, I feel like I’m called to be present in my local church. Presently in my neighborhood – Bayou St. John – there are a little over 10,000 inhabitants. Want to guess how many churches? Only one – Our Lady of the Holy Rosary – and it is a church that has been around for almost 100 years. The only other religious institution in our neighborhood is a Hare Krishna temple (think complex). My local church is the Roman Catholic Church and as Paul has taught us we have been made free by the Holy Spirit to “be all things to all people”. Back to the RM, it is because of those values that I have been instilled with that I can gracefully and humbly participate in other traditions.

De vita contemplativa and Embracing the Desert

This hasn’t been so much a “conversion” as it is more of a Kierkegaardian leap into the Void. The ways in which the Mass have transformed how I perceive myself, God and the world are to a certain degree beyond Reason as these experiences have brought a deep and profound order to my interior life. Much of my interior life has and continues to be spent in the Desert: the vast wilderness of Faith where, at times, I only continue my pilgrimage out of sheer inertia from the grace that has brough me safe thus far. My protestant evangelical background has most consistently taught me that the Desert is just a passing phase in all of our lives and someday soon we will be led to greener pastures. I was taught the Desert to be both unavoidable and undesirable. I think the hardest part about the Desert for me was that I knew I was in an undesirable place and there there was a sort of unsaid belief that my frequent sojourns into it meant there is something with my relationship with God. That is, until I learned about the Desert Mothers and Fathers and others like Saint Anthony, Benedict, John of the Cross or Teresa Avila who are known today because they embraced the Desert both literally and figuratively. From these men and women who have gone before me I learned so much about myself, my capacity for the contemplative life and that being in the Desert isn’t such an undesirable place after all.

desertThat little bit of self discovery spanned over a couple of years and after I finally learned to embrace the desert I never quite fit in my church settings. I was that guy asking the tough questions of faith and not being satisfied with bumper sticker answers. I loved silence and it became more and more difficult to encounter God with a rock band on the stage. The truth is, the Protestant side doesn’t have a strong contemplative tradition and while I was loved by the churches I grew up in I didn’t have a real environment that would nurture the contemplative life. I wouldn’t say there was a prejudice against contemplative spirituality, they just weren’t equipped or interested to foster it. I found that nurturing from a whole host of Catholic influences. It wasn’t long before I began participating in the liturgy.

Encountering God Again (for the first time)

By my junior year in college I was burned out on church. It partly had to do with the fact that I was going to a christian school, was totally over the evangelical sub-culture and my choices were either go somewhere alone, go with all my friends to the nearby mega church (which after a year of going no one could remember my name) or sleep in. I was choosing to sleep in until a friend of mine invited me to go to an early morning liturgical service at a local ELCA church. Not only was the liturgy a breath of fresh air for worship but it introduced me to the creeds and the “communion of saints”. I’ve written more extensively about that here but it was in the liturgy where I experienced a very real connection to the Body and it revitalized my soul.

From there I would find myself returning to churches with higher and higher liturgies until I started to attend the Mass. The Eucharist opened up my eyes (yes, I took communion as an undercover protestant) to a reality that is ever unfolding and I, I encountered God. This experience I have had most closely relates to Graham Ward’s “ontological scandal” where Christ, as the Second Adam, has the power to rename something that which by all appearances isn’t. He did this in the Eucharist by calling wine and bread his blood and flesh. He also did this by teaching us that the poorest among us are the rich and powerful. He taught us to see the great strength in weakness He elevated the status of women and children in a heavily patriarchal culture. He gave us new definitions of justice, love and peacemaking. Through the liturgy He continues to rename the world. He also taught us that the Kingdom is in our midst when we faithfully inhabit these spaces according to how He has named them. For the reason the liturgy has been a time and place where the Faith is integrated with Sacrament as we consume the Body of Christ and become consumed by it.

An Imperfect Church

The Roman Catholic Church still has its baggage and there is still a bit of the official teachings of the Church that I disagree with. I believe women should be ordained ministers if God has called them to be. While I try to stay out of sticky debates on where life begins I’m certain that birth control which prevents fertilization is not equivocal to abortion and I have no problem with my wife using said birth control. I think gay couples should be allowed to get married and that their union does not in any way put the union I have with Amanda in danger. I believe that while Mary, the mother of Jesus, should hold an esteemed place among the saints she was not immaculately conceived, she did not remain a virgin for the rest of her life (at least according to the Bible) and she isn’t the completion of the “new humanity” grounded in Christ. Unlike the first Adam, Jesus needs no counterpart to complete Him because He exists in perfect community with God the Father and the Holy Spirit. I could go on about other places in Catholic dogma where I don’t see eye to eye with the Church but, as I said in the beginning, I’ll have whatever church community will have me. I’ve never been a part of a perfect church where I agree with everything 100 percent and I long ago gave up the silly notion of a one “true church”. I don’t know if this means that I’ll be practicing my faith in the Catholic tradition for the rest of my life but, for now, this is where I’ll be. This is a church that has been willing to have me and it would be wrong to not reciprocate that hospitality.

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An Anarchist’s Dilemma: Rule III

A Writer’s Dilemma:  Or Why I Haven’t Posted in a Couple of Months

Although this project has been at the back of my mind for a while, I took a bit of reprieve from posting.  If a reason for my absence from the blog-sphere could be seen as a drink it would be:  1 part desire to not write out of cynicism, 1 part being busy presenting at an Anarchist’s studies conference, Mardi Gras, yet another move and adopting a dog, 2 parts working on my thesis and poured over ice cold insecurity.  I call it “Daniel doesn’t think he has anything interesting to say”.

…and perhaps I don’t.

However, I want to get back into the swing of this because the basic fact remains:  writers write and writing is rewriting is rewriting.   I want to contribute to the larger conversations going on about Theology and Culture.  I can only speak into such lofty and diverse conversations from my perspective: a church community in New Orleans, LA that subscribes itself to an ever growing movement in the West known as “new monasticism” and engages with the city incarnationally with the hope that we have the ability to demonstrate for the city what it can potentially become.

I once again return to the Rule of Saint Benedict and the dilemma of being an anarchist who is bound to a rule of life and a people.  I’m going to pick up where I left off and if you need a refresher here are the links to the other entries I’ve posted in this series.  I’ve revised a few of them to better clarify the task at hand, the framework I’m working within and other reflections.

Encountering the Rule of St. Benedict
Incarnational Anarchy
Cenobites Have All The Fun
How to Not Get Marooned On an Island

And now, on to Rule III….

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Decisions are Made By Those Who Show Up

Rule III:  Summoning The Brothers for Counsel

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There is a thread throughout the Rule that subtly challenges the way power is typically distributed in a community.  In the previous rule Benedict describes the qualities the One Whom is in Ultimate Authority must possess in order to be the Abbot.  The Abbot is meant to represent Christ to the other monks in the cloister and therefore looks wholly unlike a leader of any other top-down organization.  Taking on the burdens and responsibilities of the Abbot means becoming the servant of all.  In this chapter we see what the Abbot needs to do when making decisions, whom God reveals his wisdom through and expectations of the monks after a decision is made.  Later on Benedict will talk about what the election of an Abbot looks like and also how the majority’s rule ought to be overridden when the minority’s opinion makes more sense.  

Benedict creates a protocol for the One Who Ultimately Makes the Decision that radically deconstructs the power structures and systems he was no doubt acquainted with before leaving Rome: The Military and The Church where both the Pope and the Emperor ruled from the top.  They issued their edicts and expected obedience from those below them.  Sure, they had their advisers and counselors but at the end of the day it was the will of the sovereign ruler that mattered.  Benedict does more than invert this power structure.  He moves the top to the center resulting in the Abbot’s making his decisions from the heart of the community.  He accomplishes this by instructing the Abbot to get the whole community around the table, explain the issue and then open it up for discussion so that everybody else can weigh in.  This is more than just taking counsel from a hand selected group of people.  This is an empowerment for everybody to affect the outcome of whatever decision is being made.  The move Benedict makes that is important to note is in this line “the Lord often reveals what is better to the younger.”  In a world not too much unlike our own where age equals experience which equals authority which equals the right to be heard more than others this rule iterates the fact that the Lord often speaks through those whom the culture sees as weak, inexperience or unqualified.  For the Abbot to best discern God’s will for important decisions he must hear the heartbeat of his community and he must give special attention to the voices of those with the least amount of status or power.

This rule isn’t wholly for the Abbot, however.  There is an important role here for the rest of the brothers: they must show up and participate in the conversation.  They must participate with humility, honesty and without an agenda to win an argument.  Decisions are made after the whole community has deliberated and wrestled with the problem together.  Decisions are made by those who show up and go all in.  That way, after the Abbot carefully weighs everything and makes his decision all are accountable to it.  None should deviate from the rule by “following his own hearts desire” but all are expected to move forward together and abide by the heart of the community from which the Abbot rules.

For the modern person to live by this Rule it would be a subversion of how we typically organize communities and distribute power.  To live according to a Rule like this is an active resistance to modernity’s romantic notion of the sovereign individual because it requires everyone from top to bottom to relinquish out sense of sovereignty, become bound to a people and be hospitable toward those on the other side of the table when hashing important issues out.

Who determines what issues are important and what aren’t?  Well, I imagine that would be the very first important decision a community needs to make.  There is a counter balance that Benedict offers at the end of this chapter.  For the less important decisions the Abbot is still instructed to speak about it with the “seniors” – my guess is this is for the sake of expediency – before making the decision.  In the end the Abbot, although the one in authority, is still bound to community in everything he does.  He does not have the right to act on his own volition because that isn’t the sort of power he has been endowed with.  His authority is grounded in being chosen by the community as the one who can best speak and act from within.

Benedict’s final words on this matter:  ”Do everything with counsel and you will not be sorry afterward”.

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An Anarchist’s Dilemma: Rule II

How to Not Get Marooned On an Island

Rule II:  Qualities of the Abbot

But Jesus called them to him and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”  - Matthew 20:25-28

A central concern for any sort of political theory (anarchist or otherwise) is relationship between culture and power.  Or, to be more specific, political theory is concerned with the distribution of power within a culture.  So while this “concern” will be suspended over this whole interaction with the Rule I do not intend to make every post about power.  Actually, I’m more interested in exploring the inter-workings of the Monastery and imagining what an anarchistic community could look like.  However, there are rules in here that have to do with power.  This rule has to do with the character of the Abbot**; the one who manages all of the affairs of the monastery, who is the spiritual director of the monks and even, at times, the one who disciplines those who have deviated from the Rule.  This rule teaches us what kind of person the Abbot needs to be in order for the monastery to thrive.

**Parenthetical Note #1:  In the 7th Century there came about a movement of “Benedictine Nuns” that is still with us today.  This is an order that has had no trouble translating the male leadership roles within the Rule into female ones.  Although Benedict speaks only of men, practice of the Rule is gender neutral.  

I’m lucky to live less than an hour away from a Benedictine monastery and to be able to go there for my personal retreats.  This past summer, the in the wake of Hurricane Isaac I went up there for a couple of days to rest, pray and practice the liturgy.  We’ll get into this later on in the Rule but there is strict observance of silence during certain parts of the day – mostly around meal times – and this is a story about a time when I broke Silence.  Before a dinner I was talking to Brother Immanuel while he was doing his shift at the front office desk.  We had all sorts of questions for each other and one of mine was about the Abbot’s relationship to the Diocese, his over all function within the monastery and what he looks like.  In one of his explanations Br. Immanuel told me that the Abbot is the one person who basically gets to do whatever he wants and everyone else has to obey is directions.  I wasn’t able to press into that further because it was time for dinner and we had to be quiet.  So in my silence I contemplated what he had said and I had a whole number of questions swimming around in my head.  Mostly I was wondering how a community could thrive with only one person who is sovereign over the rest.  Yes, yes, it seems like my western liberalism roots are showing but I don’t think that is the case.  What community/church/business/organization do you know of that is both thriving and solely rests on the sovereignty and wisdom of one individual?  There has to be real accountability on some level, right?

Now, during dinner one of the monks reads a chapter from the Rule, book on church history and some other book they fancy.  While thinking about all of these questions the reader was reading some book on the history of monasticism in the middle ages and that day’s chapter was about some monastery in Spain (i think).  There was a new Abbot to come in and apparently he ruled the monastery harshly – the the point where the rest of the monks eventually tied him up, kidnapped him and marooned him on some island for him to die.  This is the part where I choked on my soup, made a bit of a mess and definitely broke Silence.  Did the monks really just perform a coup d’etat against their Abbot?  The lesson I learned from that story:  The Abbot is ultimately accountable to those whom he leads and his power is contingent upon the level of trust between him and the rest of the monks.  It is through building a trusting relationship with the community that the Abbot gains authority in the hearts and minds of the monks.  How then can one earn the level of authority and trust that is necessary to peaceably rule over the people and affairs of the monastery?   In this rule I believe St. Benedict responds to  this implicit question with three focal images and a charge that communicates the gravitas that comes with this holy office.

The first image for the Abbot to conform to is the Shepherd.  He is one who is entrusted with the health and well being of those in his monastery.  One aspect of this is spiritual.  The Abbot is one who contends with those who are less mature in the Faith and monastic life for their growth and maturity.  Unlike some distant corporate executive or even a “head pastor” the Abbot must have an intimate relationship with each of his monks so that A.) the monk can experience the Abbot’s character in order to build trust and B.) the Abbot can learn how to speak into the monk’s life not in a prescriptive manner but in the way friends who have walked a great distance can talk. This is not just for reproof or correction but a genuine relationship also includes the knowledge of the monk’s dreams, hopes and fears.  Without that knowledge how could the Abbot ever begin to help his monks cultivate those dreams and utilize their gifting for the glory of God?

Another aspect of this Shepherd image is this is a role that manages the pragmatics of monastic life.  At the end of the day someone has to sign off on budget plans, travel allowances and be the one who interfaces with outside organizations.  Like a Shepherd, the Abbot is one who navigates through all of these aspects of the Monastery while keeping the well being of his monks in mind.

>I'm reminded of a story this morning

The next image is the Teacher and Benny’s words are pretty straightforward on this subject:

Anyone who receives the name of abbot is to lead his disciples by a twofold teaching:  he must point out to them all that is good and holy more by example than by words, proposing the commandments of the Lord to receptive disciples with words, but demonstrating God’s instructions to the stubborn and the dull by living example.

The Abbot must be consistent in both word and deed; engaging in discourse with those who can be persuaded through argument and demonstrating what it good practice to those who are limited in some other way.  I think the truth in this point is self evident but it is a principle that is forgotten (or ignored) often.  In order for me to build trust with those that I lead I must practice what I preach.  Now, obviously the virtuous life is a journey without a point of arrival but the Abbot cannot gain credibility (and therefore authority) in the hearts and minds of his monks unless he is on the same journey they are striving for the same Good.

Parenthetical Note #2:  How this actually works out in community life is extremely complex because there is a basic truth underlying any sort of submission to leadership.  There will be a moment (several, actually) where the followers will experience the pain and disappointment that comes when the leader fails.  When that happens it takes work to rebuild that trust and give back that authority.  However, the depth of knowledge and relationship that is produced by staying at the table (what I wrote about last time) make this whole process worth it.  

Finally, Benedict speaks to the image of Father for this is what the title “Abbot” literally means.  He does not refer to “Father” much in this section but he seems to suggest in a couple of places that concepts of discipline and responsibility are central for this Father figure.  Discipline is something that is discussed more in depth elsewhere but Benedict uses some heavy words to charge anybody who bears the title “Abbot” with:

The Abbot must always remember what he is and remember what he is called, aware that more will be expected of a man to whom more has been entrusted.  He must know what a difficult and demanding burden he has undertaken: directing souls and serving a variety of temperaments  coaxing, reproving and encouraging them as appropriate.  He must so accommodate and adapt himself to each one’s character and intelligence that he will not only keep his flock entrusted to his care from dwindling, but will rejoice in the increase of a good flock.  Above all, he must not show too great concern for the fleeting and temporal things of this world, neglecting or treating lightly the welfare of those entrusted to him.  Rather, he should keep in mind that he has undertaken the care of souls for whom he must give an account.

The Abbot (as Father) is responsible for much and must never lose sight of the task he has endeavored upon in leading a group of monks who are intrinsically different from one another.  He must never forget the souls that have been entrusted to him and the fact that he will answer for the quality of his stewardship in this life or the next.

Now, I’d like to return to the question of authority, dominion and incarnational anarchy.  On the surface the hierarchy of the Monastery, beginning with the Abbot, may seem autocratic but I suggest that there is this incarnational anarchy at play because the monastic life from the top down begins and ends with the imitation of Christ.  If the Abbot is expected to be an incarnation of Christ in the Monastery this suggests that he is one who, in his own way, makes Christ’s story his own; which, as I’ve argued before, is inherently anarchistic.  The apparent autocracy within the Monastery is thus countered and rearranged by the anarchistic DNA of the Incarnation.

The Abbot, then, is the chief instigator of and model for the anarchistic movement that is inevitable when any community endeavors to incarnate their faith and hope in Christ in their day to day lives.  The virtuous Abbot will look like these images that St. Benedict evoked in the second chapter of his Rule.  The viscous Abbot may end up marooned on some island somewhere.

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An Anarchist’s Dilemma: Rule I

Cenobites Have All The Fun

Rule I: The Kinds of Monks

At the title of every rule I will turn it into a link so you can be able to read the whole thing on your own. Some chapters are longer than others, this one is but the preamble to what is to come. In it we find out Benny’s intended audience, or whom this Rule of Life is for: The Cenobites (monastics). In getting to that point he writes of the “Four Kinds of Monks”. His descriptions are colorful, interesting and a bit harsh at times. To unpack The Hermit would bring us into an entirely different discussion. The other two, I think are much more relevant and helps us better Benedict’s ideal in the Cenobite.

St. Benedict doesn’t spend any time explaining why the monks who do not live according to any specific Rule or stay in any one place for a very long time is a lesser kind of monk. For him, the why is self-evident but unless we read this short chapter closely what is obvious for Benny alludes us. From our modern lens isn’t there something romantic, adventurous and inherently good about going out and taking the world by storm? We grow up learning about historical figures like Hemingway or Thoreau who abandoned any sense of community and face whatever may come on their own. We’ve been taught about the Magna Carta, The Constitution of the United States, Manifest Destiny. We live in the age of couchsurfing.com and an ever present “hipster” culture dedicated to rejecting social trends (not really) by being infatuated with the obscure (again, not really but the irony is sort of the point). The pursuit of happiness means to let our hearts navigate us through the often perilous landscape which all of us are journeying through. The descriptions of these lesser monks seem to match up fairly well with the ideal Individual in our (post)modern milieu. Given our cultural and political lens are Benedict’s judgments of these sorts of monks archaic, paternalistic and even a bit coercive? Perhaps, at least some of his words don’t seem charitable. However, I think Benedict sees the untethered life for exactly what it is. To put it into the matrix of incarnational anarchy – these are people who have yet to dethrone their individualistic sense of sovereignty. They do not grow roots or gain stability and are in a constant state of flux and chaos. They live as estranged ones to the monastery. The why for St. Benedict is found in the description of the Cenobite – one who belongs to the monastery, serves under a rule and an abbot. Benedict understands that we, as humans, have a need to belong. On a fundamental level we need to be known and accepted for exactly who we are by others. We are orientated toward community and to truly reject this we are rejecting something that makes us human.

Doesn’t it seem that one way or the other all of these kinds of monks are being ruled? Yes…and that’s kind of the point. I would like to suggest that incarnational anarchy can only take place within community; which is inherently a type of rule. Those who remain at the table regardless of how hard the conversations may be are the ones are who have the opportunity to re-enact this Anarchistic Moment. Only in this context can the dysfunction that is present in every culture be subverted because kenotic-hospitality is contingent upon community. Community, as we understand from St. Benedict, are those committed to the same Rule and have a vested interest in the prosperity of the order. Those drifting on the outside or those who leave the table for whatever reason inherently cannot be a part of the transformative overthrow that both incarnational anarchy offers and the community’s culture requires.

St. Benedicts’ audience are those who are committed to the individual and communal process of kenosis, subversion, death and resurrection. His Rule is for those who equally embrace the idealism of “community” and the reality of it. This Rule of Life is quite straightforwardbut it gets unbelievably messy as it becomes the flesh and bones of a community dedicated to the inauguration of God’s Kingdom. In the end, though, it’s the Cenobites who have all the fun.

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An Anarchist’s Dilemma: Incarnational Anarchy

Incarnational Anarchy

Whenever I talk about anarchy (which isn’t very often) the first question that I am almost always asked is “What do you mean by ‘anarchy’”?  Before encountering the Rule I would like to unpack that a bit and share the framework that I am working within.

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I found this meme to be pretty funny – although I admit some of the humor is kind of crass – and pretty accurate to what anarchy is perceived to be.  Whenever I talk about having a conversation on anarchy or that I am presenting an essay at this year’s North American Anarchist Studies conference there is an inevitable joke about the perceived irony of something organized having something to do with anarchy.  There’s a chuckle that is had and we move on in the conversation.  There’s usually nothing to those kinds of comments in the conversations I have but in other contexts this is a way the status quo (the Controlling Order) minimizes and dismisses anything that an anarchist point of view could bring to the table.  More dangerously, though, anarchy is often portrayed not as some sort of mechanism for building a better culture but rather as the destruction of culture and civilization.  The Joker’s character in The Dark Knight is a stark example of this portrayal and to be fair, some people just want to see the city burn.  Therefore, conversations and memes like this begs a rather serious question:  Is anarchy and idealistic, youthful “damn the man!” protest that is more interesting in burning down the house or is it about community and changing cultural paradigms of power?  The answer is “Yes”.  I don’t pretend to be any sort of expert in anarchist theory but in my dabbling I have come to understand the label “anarchy” to have a wide range of meanings with not much of a compass on it.  Perhaps being a decentralized theory is the point, I don’t know.  This is why it is important to say what I mean by “anarchy” before working through Benny’s Rule.  I need a compass.

To those that know me and have heard me talking about this ad nauseum know that I’ve only come to understand anarchy through the Incarnation of God.  In the essay that I’m writing for this conference I am working through some anarchistic implications (what I call the “anarchistic DNA for the Church”) of the Incarnation.  Here I want to reflect on Paul’s “Christ Hymn” in Philippians 2: what I believe to be the Anarchist Moment in the Christian story.

Make your own attitude that of Christ Jesus,
who, existing in the form of God,
did not consider equality with God
as something to be used for His own advantage.
Instead He emptied Himself by assuming the form of a slave, taking on the likeness of men.
And when He had come as a man in His external form,
He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even to death on a cross.
For this reason God highly exalted Him
and gave Him the name that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow
of those who are in heaven and on earth
and under the earth and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

There is quite a bit here and it is a playground for students who are cutting their teeth in Biblical Studies.  I don’t have the resources on hand to do that but I am confident that my theological reading of this text doesn’t stray too far from what we understand St. Paul’s mind to be.  I see this as a central text which tells a Three Part Drama of “Christianity’s Anarchistic Moment”.  The very first line is a short and simple Prologue:  Make your attitude that of Christ Jesus.  Yes, yes we are essentially reading Paul’s mail to a church on the other side of this world thousands of years ago – but do we have any real reason to believe Paul’s exhortation would be any different if he were posting on some blog from an obscure coffee shop in Whatever City, USA?  Not really, so while this letter isn’t written to us we can safely understand that these words are truly for us as well.  This is why the rest of this hymn is both Christ’s and Christianity’s ‘Anarchistic Moment’ – we are expected to imitate the character of Christ as displayed in this poem.

In “Part 1″ we witness a sort of dethronement of God.  Christ, in taking on human form (the Incarnation) emptied himself (kenosis).  Theologically speaking, Christ relinquished the rights and status he was entitled to as One who participates in the divine trinitarian community and entered into a reality that was utterly estranged from this community (cf. Romans 1-5, Colossians 1).

Part II is a bit more implicit as Paul does not write much of Jesus’ life on earth but rather lunges forward to his death.  Jesus lived a life which was constantly and directly confrontational to the power structures he was born into.  Through his words and life he gave those whom would follow him a different imagination the nature of power and how it could be used for what is truly good.  Ultimately Jesus was charged with sedition and crucified.  Paul understood all of this to be Jesus’ obedience to a divinely inspired cosmic scheme to overthrow the ‘powers and principalities’ (Ephesians 6), ‘the domain of darkness’ (Colossians 1:13), the ‘sting’ of Death (1 Corinthians 15).

Part III speaks of Christ’s exultation and elevation.  In his resurrection these powers were overthrown.  This is the hope for all of creation because, as was noted in the ‘prologue’, we are called to participate in this story with Him and live out a resurrected way of life.

In this three part drama I believe we see an anarchistic character in the Incarnation and this gives me an idea of which way is North.  ”Incarnational Anarchy” isn’t some attempt to burn down the house for its own sake but rather a process of kenosis, subverting our cultural mileaux of an Ayn Rand type of rugged individualism.  Ultimately incarnational anarchy leads into a life of obedience, of non-violence, forgiveness, love and hospitality.  This “Incarnational Anarchy” is my compass for encountering the Rule of St. Benedict and community life.

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An Anarchist’s Dilemma: Encountering with the Rule of St. Benedict

An Anarchist’s Dilemma

Over the past several years I have become more and more acquainted with anarchist theory.  At first I found my friend’s anarchistic inclinations to be deeply offensive but rather than discounting the lot of them I asked questions and wrestled with my own beliefs about power, Christianity and Empire.  I got to the point this year where I did not register to vote because of some confused convictions that I had (still have).  Now, though, I think I more or less subscribe to a form of anarchy that I want to use this space to try to suss out a bit more.  I want to approach this series in a way that seems to be dialectical by reading the Rule of St. Benedict through my burgeoning anarchistic perspective.  However, I sense that these two aspects may be more compatible than one might initially believe – at least that is what my experience living in a vowed community has taught me.

I’ve titled this series “An Anarchist’s Dilemma” and I will be writing this in tandem with my thesis on The City, the Incarnation and the Church’s call to demonstrate for the City what has the potential to become.  Hopefully the two projects will inform each other.  The version of St. Benedict’s Rule I’m working with can be bought on Amazon for a couple bucks here OR you can check out this online version.

I am coming to the Rule with questions and I will probably end up with more by the end.  My hope is that they will be better questions and that I am able to share what its like to live in community within a wider culture where the individual is sovereign, time is currency and knowledge is power.  Perhaps, in this day and age, living according to a rule of life is the most anarchistic act one can do.

Zen master and the little boy

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After dinner last night Amanda and I watched Charlie Wilson’s War.  There is a short scene at the end where Gust (Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s character) and Charlie (Tom Hanks) are at a party celebrating the defeat of the Soviets in Afghanistan.  I thought this short dialog was appropriate for today.

Gust: Did I ever tell you the story of the Zen master and the little boy? On his 16th birthday, a boy gets a horse as a present. All the villagers say, “How wonderful!” The Zen master says, “We’ll see.” One day, the boy is thrown from the horse and is hurt and can no longer walk. All the villagers say, “How terrible!” The Zen master says, “We’ll see.” A short time later, war begins, and all the young men of the village are taken away to be soldiers, but this boy can’t fight, so he is spared, and all the villagers say, “How wonderful!”

Charlie: And the Zen master says, “We’ll see…”

Gust: You’re catching on…

 

Are you catching on?

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Holy Day of Obligation Batman!

All Saints Day

So, I’m going through RCIA right now.  It’s the adult catechism for the Catholic Church and last Tuesday night I learned that today, All Saints Day, is a Holy Day of Obligation.  Since I’m not catholic yet I won’t be going to Mass but given this holiday I thought it would be a good time to share a little bit about how important the Saints (not the football team) have become to my faith as well as address how grossly misunderstood this element of the RC tradition is by the Protestant Evangelical traditions that I’ve grown up in.  I’ve probably written this once before on here but it is worth sharing again.  The liturgy of the Eucharist has saved, and continues to save, my faith.  I discovered it in college during some severe spells of doubt mixed with apathy – I was quickly approaching the point where I did not have the will to continue with believing what I do and allowing myself to accept the hope of the promised redemption of this world.  It was in the rituals of prayer, confession, recitation of ancient creeds and the Eucharist that brought me back.  To this day there is something medicinal about going through the whole drama of the Eucharist for me.  The Petitioning to the Saints, however, was a bit esoteric for me that I just didn’t want to get into.  I would just leave it out there and let people light their candles undisturbed.  In direct contradiction to that, however, was that my favorite line in the Apostle’s Creed was that bit about believing in the “communion of saints”.  After a while of performing the Eucharist (or was the Eucharist performing something in me?) the reality of the Saints opened up to me and I began to understand the nature of my fellowship with them.  This was quite scary for me because of my protestant evangelical roots which taught me that the Catholic tradition, in many ways, syncretized pagan worship with the “true faith”.  Praying to the Saints and to Mary are primary examples of this and I’ve certainly heard the whole litany of “10 word answers” that attempt to denigrate this practice that millions of Christians around the world hold sacred.  The most charitable line of argument is something like “Christ is and can be my only mediator to God.  It is through him that I have direct access to the Father.  Praying to the Saints/Mary stand in direct contradiction to that”.  This post is to confront this line of argument and what it presupposes about this tradition.  In order to do that, though, I need to return to the Eucharist and our perception of time.

Do this is remembrance of me…

The night before Jesus was betrayed by one of his own, handed over to an armed militia, was tried, found guilty of sedition and ultimately crucified he shared a meal with his closest friends.  It was the Passover meal – an interesting Jewish liturgy that reenacts the Exodus story and gives hope to a future promise of redemption – and towards the end he told his friends to remember him whenever they broke bread and drank from the cup like this.  ”To Remember” in this context (anamnesis) simultaneously points to the past events that demonstrate God’s faithfulness and to the future hope of God fulfilling what he has promised to do.  For the Christian this means the redemption and restoration of our bodies, souls, planet and cosmos.  Within the drama of the Eucharist the past, present and future capitulate into a singular reality – a space where God’s will is “done on earth as it is in heaven”.  Theologically speaking, during the Eucharist we are unified within an eschatological reality that is not bound to a linear understanding of time because past, present and future are one.  As Christians we join a communion that started two thousand years ago and will continue until the Last Day.  How this relates to the Saints, Mary and all those other people the Catholics allegedly pray to is that in this eschatological moment we are not only in communion with the person sitting in the pew next to us.  We are communing with the Saints of the Church – past, present and future.  We are able to converse with them and, like how we would a close friend, ask them to pray for us.  This is where the misperception I have always been taught resides.  It’s not so much having to pray to someone to go to God but asking those whom I fellowship with (past, present and future) to pray for me, to intercede for me, as I encounter God in the Eucharist.  This is very different than praying to some dead person in order to relate to God and the practice of beseeching the Saints is no different than your practice of asking your pastor to pray for you.

The Art of Staying Faithful

This is how the Saints have become such an important aspect to my faith.  During times of great struggle, turmoil and doubt I know I have such a communion of experience that I can look to for encouragement and strength.  The Saints are amazing guides as they have lived through these same issues (and often so much more) and stayed faithful.  If you’re like me, one who can use as much encouragement as he can get, I definitely recommend finding a book on the lives of the saints and reading all about their crazy stories.  You’ll laugh, cry and maybe at some point ask them to pray for you too.

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