In Defense of Asceticism

I have a confession to make. I am addicted to comfort. As it happens with some addicts, however, I was not aware that I was “suffering” from this addiction.

I had an enviable childhood. Growing up in a middle-class family in Nicaragua meant that I rarely had to go hungry. We had maids and nannies that would take care of our needs. I did not have to cook for my meals. On some rare days, I managed to make my bed in the mornings.

It would be an understatement to say that migrating to the US was a marvelous case of culture shock. These clashes of cultures did not always occur in the way some of you might imagine. Sure, I was shocked at the economic power of the West, but I was also surprised to find that most people in this country don’t grow up with maids and nannies. This meant that most of us here have to do our own laundry, housecleaning, and other chores I was unfamiliar with.

I eventually joined in 2009 (and left two years later) an Augustinian religious order as a candidate for the pre-novitiate in San Francisco. Of course, part of living with the Augustinian community was participation in household chores on Saturday morning. My vocational director, after some months of observing my feeble attempts at cleaning, commented succinctly: “I have never seen anyone do chores with the least effort possible as you.”

I was stunned by his comment. I honestly (and embarrassingly admit now) didn’t know what he meant.

One afternoon the same vocational director “caught” me catching a second bus that would take me up three mere blocks, dropping me off half a block from the community house. “Most people” he mentioned casually when we were at home “would simply walk those three blocks.”

I was confused with his comment. Why wouldn't anyone, I thought silently, take the bus to shorten their walk if it is available to them and costs them no extra money?

I did not say that out loud, of course, but simply responded “oh, most days I walk those three blocks, but I saw the bus coming so I decided to take the bus.”

These are just a couple of examples that portray my addiction to comfort and my lack of awareness to it.

“You are Addicted to Comfort”

These are the words I heard in prayer one recent afternoon. This time around, these words didn’t come as a shocking revelation. My addiction is something I slowly discovered over the many years of efforts at growing up. I started on this path of intentional maturing seven or eight years ago. It is not like I didn’t make any efforts to grow up before. It is simply that I thought growing up came to you naturally by simply living and delaying one’s imminent death as long as possible.

You would think that after seven or eight years of intentional growth that I would finally jettison this addiction. No such luck. There is unquestionably some improvement in this area, but my addiction still lurks around and appears to urge me every once in a while, (daily) to “suffer” on the couch.

Come to think of it, to be told by God that one is addicted to comfort is a really nice way of saying “you are lazy.”

"Lord," I asked Jesus after hearing of my addiction in prayer, "how do I get over this addiction?" "Carry your cross daily” I heard back, “and follow me. Don’t be afraid of hard work.”

Studying Patristics Ethics and Rediscovering Asceticism

Over the past couple of years, I've developed a fascination with Orthodox Spirituality. I have found the writings of the Church Mothers and Fathers and of Orthodox Monasticism immensely nourishing and inspiring. The mysticism. The mystery. The grandiose and beauty of the liturgy. These are all aspects of Orthodox Spirituality that are speaking gently and robustly to my soul. This fascination was intensified this past semester at seminary after taking a class on Patristics Salvation & Ethics at the Orthodox Institute.

One aspect that seems to characterize Patristic writings and Orthodox Spirituality is its practice of asceticism.

Merriam-Webster defines Asceticism as “the practice of strict self-denial as a measure of personal and especially spiritual discipline: the condition, practice, or mode of life of an ascetic: rigorous abstention from self-indulgence.”

Now I’m a BIG fan of self-indulgence. This is something my couch and ma’ belly *points to luxurious belly*  will readily testify. My wife is also a witness of my prodigious gift for over-eating. Ever since I heard of the inspiring phenomenon of deep-fried butter at county fairs, for example, I can't stop thinking about them.

One time, a misguided Augustinian candidate to the pre-novitiate thought that he could beat me in an eating competition. He foolishly and impulsively decided to challenge me to a food contest at IHOP after watching their ads for their glorious “All You Can Eat Pancakes.” Not taking challenges to my honor lightly, we made a bet that whoever lost the challenge had to buy a six pack of beer.

One fateful morning soon after, my impetuous friend, another pre-novice and your faithful servant went to our local IHOP and ordered our breakfasts with all you can eat pancakes. I ordered a gargantuan meal composed of a meat-lovers omelet, hash browns plus all the pancakes you could dream of. He ordered a simple breakfast of a couple of eggs and I forget what else. At pancake nine my friend was looking sickly and remorseful. I was in good spirits and enjoying my ninth pancake as well. I ordered three more and ended up eating eleven. After witnessing this awe-inspiring feat of gastric aerobics, my friend decided to throw the napkin and buy us all a six pack of beer. Because, you know, there is no better way to celebrate after a meal of eating copious amount of carbs than by drinking carbs.

Now, this is not to point fingers and say that every overweight person is as big a fan of self-indulgence as I am. Obesity is a complex issue with multiple causes that can’t just be solved by simple explanations. What I am saying, however, is that I can safely correlate my obesity and diabetes to my over-indulgence.

Anyways, to return to our topic at hand. I love food. Asceticism and my inordinate love of food don’t always get along. Therefore, asceticism is bad.

The Bad Rep of Asceticism

Seriously though, asceticism has lately come under a bad rep. Some think of those practices as medieval leftovers better left in the dark ages. Some of this bad rep seems justified. There are, after all, many cases of abuse that may appear repulsive to us. Unhappy monks flagellating themselves before going on a killing spree a la Da Vinci Code. Or sad looking, monotonous black-robed monks hitting their foreheads with a thick and skull breaking tablet a la Monty Python.

We also hear of ascetics trying to "subject" their bodies and its evil desires. Every want and need of the body is seen as suspicious. The body may be seen as "bad," and all that matters, they seem to suggest, is that we deny our bodies' wants and needs and merely focus on our spiritual needs.

We are, however, a people of the resurrection. The resurrection of Jesus Christ and our doctrine of the resurrection of the dead give witness to God’s material creation as “good.” We will be redeemed wholly, body, spirit, and soul. Therefore, to demonize the body is to demonize something God has made good and God will glorify. Therefore, Asceticism is bad.

Not so fast, though. I believe there is a more balanced way of looking at Asceticism that can be productive and even helpful on our journey to holiness. I believe that Asceticism can be looked in a non-dualistic way, and I believe it should be a healthy aspect of our spirituality.

Amma Theodora, for example, when speaking to a dualistic Manichaean said: “Give the body discipline and you will see that the body is for the one who made it.” The body is for God who made it, but as with every gift that God gives us, it is in dire need of discipline.

In St. Basil’s address to young men he exhorts us that "we ought not to serve the body any more than is absolutely necessary, but we ought to do our best for the soul, releasing it from the bondage of fellowship with the bodily appetites; at the same time we ought to make the body superior to passion.”

St. Basil’s quote can be easily interpreted to mean the soul is superior to the body since we are encouraged to release the soul "from the bondage of fellowship with bodily appetites." One can be justified in offering this interpretation.

A closer reading, however, can reveal some nuances. First, St. Basil doesn’t say that we need to release the soul from the bondage of the body, but to the appetites. What enslaves our souls are therefore not our bodies but our appetites. In other words, we ought to give the body what it needs, but we are to be wary of our appetites.

Many of us, I am sure to estimate, are deeply aware of the terrible consequences of giving in to our every bodily appetite. I believe one of the main reasons I am overweight and suffering from diabetes is because I gave in to my inordinate appetites too many times for too long. I know that if I were to do what my body desired, every single time, I would be in a much worse state than I am. This is not only the case with my appetite for food since I am deeply aware that the causes of obesity and diabetes can be complex, but it is also true in many other areas of my life. What would my sexuality look like if I gave in to every bodily appetite? What would my finances be if I gave in and bought with my credit cards whatever I had the appetite for? The list could go on.

Also, notice the second part of St. Basil’s quote: we ought to make the body superior to passion. All of these inordinate appetites, which St. Basil names as passion, the body is capable of being superior of. If our bodies are not capable of being superior to our passions, then St. Basil's exhortation would be pointless. The fact that the body can be superior to our passions means that the body is good. Why is that? Can something that is bad be capable of being superior? Is it capable of growth? If it is, then there is inherent good in it. Notice also that St. Basil never equates our bodies to our passions. He distinguishes between the two and is able to advise us to free our bodies from our inordinate passions.

Greek Orthodox scholar John Chryssagvis’ essay Soma-Sara: The Body and the Flesh – an Insight into Patristic Anthropology explains the Church Fathers and Mothers general perception on our anthropology:

"For the Greek Fathers, who never offered, nor claimed to offer, a comprehensive account of the matter, there remained an element of mystery attached to the human person, due largely to their underlying idea of man as an irreducible pneumato-psycho-physical being, of which both the material and immaterial constituents are mysteriously conjoined and are essential for a properly integrated personal existence."

Humans are irreducibly “material and immaterial.” Chryssagvis then quotes St. Gregory the Theologian to make his point:

"Man cannot detach himself from matter without ceasing at the same time to be man."

Chryssagvis also quotes Climacus:

       

"Hypocrisy is soul and body in a state of opposition to each other (enantia katastasis), intertwined with every kind of invention."

The ascetic practices can serve simply as a tool to discipline our bodies who, at least in my experience, is almost always looking for every sort of comfort and the path of least resistance. If these practices are seen not as a way to subjugate our evil bodies but to discipline them and train them away from our inordinate appetites, then Asceticism can be seen as an essential help towards holiness.