what it means to be a monk..a million dollar question

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this week has been so extremely quiet for all of us here at the monastery because it is our annual retreat and it started last Sunday after our 5:30 Vespers and will commence with our retreat master's closing talk on Saturday at 8:30Am.....

what it means to be a monk ….what is it to do with me, you, them, the whole Christianity?
Monks are a curious breed. They don’t really fit the mentality of the modern world. Monks are unknown or misunderstood or disdained or simply ignored by just about everyone, though they are appreciated and even loved by those who do understand.

For some, the existence of monks is a comfort; for others, a prick of the conscience. In the eyes of some, monks are useless and dusty relics of an irrelevant past; in the eyes of others they are prophetic witnesses to the world. It is characteristic of the monk, however, that none of the above really matters a whole lot to him. He has a calling from God and he simply goes about following it.

The vocation of the monk can be called a “mystery” in two senses of the word. Primarily it is a divine mystery, that is, a reality proceeding from God, at once hidden and revealed, expressing in its essence something of the grace, wisdom, peace, and fruitfulness of God. Monastic consecration is a mystery akin to the sacramental mysteries of the Church, in which an inner change is effected through an outward ritual or symbol and hence becomes a wellspring of Divine Energy.

Yet this vocation is, to many (even sometimes to the monk himself), a “mystery” in the more common sense of the word. It is baffling, strange, something that cannot be figured out by rational analysis, something that eludes definition and even contradicts what many people regard as normal, sensible, and acceptable by the standards of today’s world. Therefore I find myself searching in vain for adequate words to present to you the simple yet profound calling of the monk.

I do not wish to say much here about poverty, chastity, and obedience, though they are important parts of the foundation of monastic life. Very much is said about the vows in other places. (As I was writing that sentence, I accidentally typed “wows” instead of “vows.” Perhaps that could be a beginning of a meditation on those gifts of God!) But the essence of the vows will be implied in much of what follows.
Essentially, the monastic life is a specific response of a restless heart to the call of the One in whom alone that heart can find rest. “Only in God is my soul at rest” (Psalm 61/62: 2). The Caller of Restless Hearts speaks to all, of course, but the monastic response is unlike most others.

For the monastic way of life (unlike that of the Christian in the world) is not one that seeks to ennoble the elements of the secular life while simultaneously partaking of its joys and sorrows. It is rather one that endeavors to transcend the conventions of secular society in a single-minded, single-hearted pursuit of God – not for the sake of escaping the harsh realities of life through attaining mystical ecstasy, but for the sake of the transformation of the very world he has left behind, that the Light of Christ may shine on all who still may be living in the shadows of sin and death.

But even this way of speaking is not entirely accurate, for the use of terms like “endeavor” and “pursuit” may give the impression that the monk is trying to achieve something by his own effort or strength, rather than hoping to receive something (for himself and others) through his radical availability for the movement of the Spirit of God.
For it is the vocation of the monk to be an empty vessel, a listening heart, a faithful servant – like the Virgin Mary, who could pronounce an unconditional “yes” to the will of God, because her heart was already wholly with Him. She loved humanity like no other, yet she was not enmeshed in attachments that would diminish her freedom and availability to offer her whole life to God.

Despite the impression one may get from reading literature on monastic life, it is not about a quest for personal perfection or self-mastery. As soon as the goal of monastic life becomes self-anything, the monk has lost his bearings and is on the road to pride, self-absorption, and ultimately a distaste for the things of God and hence a betrayal of his original calling.
There is, to be sure, a goal for which the monk offers his life, but it is not one that requires him to pay much attention to himself or his own inner states, even for the sake of “seeking holiness.” A monk, like any Christian, should seek God. Holiness will follow all by itself if our one desire is simply God.

The goal of monastic life is nothing less than the transfiguration of all humanity and the whole universe unto the image of the crucified and glorified Christ. Every deified soul contributes immensely to the radical renewal and salvation of the world.
It’s not that monks think they can accomplish this on their own. They just know that this goal is God’s will, and they want to sacrifice their lives for the fulfillment of God’s purpose in creating us in the first place.

So what do monks do to that end? A question that has often been put to us is: “What do you guys do?” We may begin by saying that our vocation as contemplatives is to pray and intercede and worship and work, to share in Christ’s agony and ecstasy, and thus to help restore the fallen world to God’s original dream. The inevitable rejoinder is: “OK, but what do you guys do?” So, seeing that they are looking for a more active or productive dimension to monastic life, we might say that we run a guest house and occasionally go out to attend to community errands or personal needs, send a periodic newsletter, or (as we did in the past) stage a Gregorian concert for public viewing. “Yeah, but like, what do you do?” Sigh. guess we really don’t do anything that would satisfy those who simply must see a product that will somehow justify our existence.

Thomas Merton once said that the only justification for monastic life is the glory of God.
There are people who say that monks ought to be of some use in the world… but we have to understand the nature of a monk’s services and the way in which he has to help the world. A monk is someone who prays for the whole world, who weeps for the whole world; and in this lies his main work…

Thanks to monks, prayer continues unceasingly on earth, and the whole world profits, for through prayer the world continues to exist; but when prayer fails, the world will perish…
Thus has the Holy Spirit schooled the monk to love God and to love the world…
Though a monk takes thought for earthly things, so far as is needful for the life of the body, his spirit burns with love for God; though he labor with his hands, in mind he continues with God… He will keep a conscience pure in all things… He humbles his soul, and by humility repulses the enemy from himself and from those that ask his prayers…

Just as the angels perpetually serve God in spirit, so too must the mind of the monk ever dwell in God, and day and night meditate upon the word of God… The world does not know how a monk prays for the whole universe – people do not see his prayers and how they are received by the Lord in His mercy.

So prayer is at the heart of the monastic vocation. Prayer is something that many people do not understand or do not value sufficiently. Even people who do pray may still not understand why one would wish to live a life of prayer. And there is also a more general attitude that is expressed in ways such as, “We’ve done all we can in this situation. There’s nothing left to do but pray.”

Prayer is seen as a last resort, something one does as a kind of compensation for not being able to offer any practical help, something that is usually left to old ladies laden with prayer beads and holy cards, while those who really want to change the world get out there and make things happen.

But people who have a deeper understanding of the mystery of the Body of Christ, of the profound and dynamic (though often invisible) interconnection of all created things and persons, will understand that prayer ought to be the first resort instead of the last. The ability to enter into communication and communion with God surely ought to merit some regard from those who would like to change the world for the better.

When we say that a monk prays for the world, we are saying that in his stillness, he holds the whole of humanity close to the healing presence of God.
Yet there are a couple of other things that monks have to do, although these, like everything else, are still related to prayer: monks have to go to work.

Work is an important dimension in the life of monks, even though we don’t do the 9 to 5. Actually, our day is more like the 4 to 9, starting early and going in and out of periods of prayer and work of various sorts until evening brings the deep silence.
Whether it is manual or intellectual labor, the monk is required to give the best of his time and talents to the service of God and the community, to be productive and to avoid idleness at all costs. We know from the parable of the talents that slackers get the boot when it’s time to pass out rewards.

In recent years, much has been written on the dignity of work, but monks have known this all along. Monks have learned to combine prayer with work, and anything that is compatible with prayer is thereby ennobled, especially when it is consciously offered as a gift to God.
Study is a kind of work as well. The mind has to be exercised along with the body and the spirit. Historically, monks have often been among those who have advanced the intellectual and cultural life of the Church and even of the secular society.

Yet there is no college degree required for entering a monastery (not ours anyway!), only a heart that is willing to serve, to pray, to work, to grow, and to do all for the glory of God.
But if the mind is not given anything to stretch its capacities to understand the marvelous works of God, it will weaken and degenerate, and the spirit will soon follow.

Any other requirements? Oh yes, one also has to be willing to fight. A monk may be a pacifist when it comes to the wars of men, but in the arena of the soul he must continually fight the good fight, for the battle is with the “spiritual hosts of wickedness” (Ephesians 6: 12).
The monk is on the “front line” of the spiritual warfare, starting with his own inner life and expanding to the cosmic battles of principalities and powers. Look at the face of an old, experienced monk, and you will see not merely the marks of aging, but war wounds: tracks of tears and the lines of long, silent struggles. But in his eyes, there will still be burning the fire of love for God and the unshakable confidence that all things are accomplished, all enemies vanquished, through the grace of Christ who strengthens us.

“Indeed, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2Timothy 3: 12). This “persecution” may at times take the form of attacks from outsiders and visible enemies, but more often than not the monk is persecuted by the invisible enemies, the powers of darkness and his own inner “demons” that must be exorcised by unceasing prayer and unswerving fidelity to the word of the Master.

So, far from a boring (or even tranquil!) life, the monastic journey is a dangerous adventure, sometimes exhilarating, sometimes exhausting, but always with a deep undercurrent of peace and joy, for the love of God is poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, and the hope of heaven is ever alive.

All of the above we do, not as solitary individuals, but as members of a body – the monastic community and the whole mystical Body of Christ. When the branches are connected to the Vine they are thereby connected to each other as well. Solitude and silence are indispensable for the monastic vocation of prayer and seeking God, but the more “outgoing” side of brotherly love, communication, and cooperation is also an important part of the whole picture.

Part of the work of a community that is really alive in Christ is to continually seek the balance, amid the inner and outer unexpected changes of life, between silence and speaking, liturgy and contemplation, solitude and community, cloister and hospitality – in short, all the ways the monk must both bear fruit and share fruit. He has freely received and so must freely give, though always keeping vigilance over the inner treasure of the heart, the life of grace within.

Come what may, despite all changing trends and fashions, despite all the pendulum swings in the life of the Church and the mentality of the world, and in the midst of the sin and sorrows of life, “monks must be as trees which exist silently in the dark and by their vital presence purify the air” (Thomas Merton).