It would be great if law schools did devote attention to The Federalist. But they should also devote an equal amount of attention The Antifederalist. The "antifederalists" had keen insights into some of the problems with the new Constitution (as well as the true intentions of its proponents). For the most part, the prescience of the antifederalists has been ably demonstrated.

Goal of the Monastic Life

You greatly delude yourself...if you think that one thing is demanded from the layman and another from the monk.... Because all must rise to the same height.... ~ St. John Chrysostom

What were the desert monastics up to? What was the purpose of their asceticism? Why so much emphasis on fasting, prayer, silence and meditations? Among those of us in the Reformed Communion, the answer given is usually simple: They were pursuing a life which would justify their claims to perfection, or at least to being holier and more righteous than non-monastics. To a certain extent this criticism is justified, especially since this was very much the case in the west at the time of the Reformation.

But then, church history doesn't begin with the Reformation. And Calvin had a higher view of the monasticism of earlier times than he did the monasticism of his day:

"[I]t is to be observed, that the ancient mode of living in monasteries was very different. The persons who retired to them were those who wished to train themselves to the greatest austerity and patience. The discipline practised by the monks then resembled that which the [Spartans] are said to have used under the laws of Lycurgus, and was even much more rigorous. They slept on the ground, their drink was water, their food bread, herbs, and roots, their chief luxuries oil and pulse. From more delicate food and care of the body they abstained. These things might seem hyperbolical were they not vouched by experienced eye-witnesses, as Gregory Nazianzen, Basil, and Chrysostom. By such rudimentary training they prepared themselves for greater offices. For of the fact that monastic colleges were then a kind of seminaries of the ecclesiastical order, both those whom we lately named are very competent witnesses, (they were all brought up in monasteries, and thence called to the episcopal office), as well as several other great and excellent men of their age. Augustine also shows that in his time the monasteries were wont to furnish the Church with clergy." (Emphasis added.)

In this posting, I explained the radical problem which, to the monastics, required a radical solution. The situation among monastics in the east was for the most part much different from the west.

In asking what is the goal of the monastic life, we could ask, as well, what is the goal of the Christian life? For the desert monastics, the goal of the ascetical practices was the same as the goal of the Christian life. Often, I think, this fact is lost on us precisely because of the asceticism itself. We cannot see the forest for the trees (those ascetical practices). Moreover, the aforementioned loathing of ascetical practices and easy dismissal as works-righteousness also hinders our vision. We Reformed and (by virtue thereof) non-monastics don't engage in such practices and we're living the Christian life; therefore, the monks, having added to the requirements as it were, are attempting acts of supererogation and, for that reason, not living the Christian life. They are in fact sinning greatly.

What in fact compelled the monastics to go into the desert was the command of Jesus to "Be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect" (Matthew 5.48). Jesus's words there, seeming to suggest that we must have a completely, flawlessly obedient life, might depress us, given what must surely be our knowledge that we cannot be perfect. But the message from Jesus recorded in Matthew 5.48 isn't about flawlessness; rather, they are a restatement of the Two Great Commandments: (1) that we are to love God with all our heart, soul, strength and mind (Deuteronomy 6.5) and (2) that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves (Leviticus 19.18) (cf. Luke 10.27).

What Jesus is asking of us is a life of perfect love, for God and for others. We were created to give and receive love. God created us for love; and he redeemed us for love. Love characterizes the Holy Trinity. The fundamental relationship between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit is love. Out of that love relationship, we were created and redeemed. And for the sake of that love relationship, we were created and redeemed. The center of all things is that love which exists in and among the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The life of the Godhead is an eternal love life with each other. As the church fathers have put it, the members of the Trinity interpenetrate each other (perichoresis). Or, better, as Jesus himself put it: "I am in my father and my father is in me" (John 14.10) and "...you are in me and I am in you." (John 17.21).

What's the point? God created us and redeemed us out of his eternal trinitarian love life. And he calls us to enter into that very love life; he calls us to live life with him. As the Catechism puts it, our whole purpose is "to glorify God and fully to enjoy him forever." However much we (or some of us) Reformed Christians may criticize the means, this life with God is the end or purpose of the monastic life. They, no less than we, seek to glorify God and enjoy him forever, specifically by growing in love for God and our neighbor.

There is a story by the 6th century monk Dorotheus which is highly illustrative of the relation between love for God and love for neighbor.

"Suppose we were to take a compass and insert the point and draw the outline of a circle. The centerpoint is the same distance from any point on the circumference. Let us suppose that this circle is the world and that God himself is the center. The straight lines drawn from the circumference to the center are the lives of human beings. Let's assume for the sake of this analogy that to move toward God, human beings move from the circumference along the various radii of the circle to the center. But at the same time, the closer they are to God the closer they become to one another. And the closer they are to one another the closer they become to God."

For those of us who eschew works righteousness, Dorotheus's analogy is powerful. He does not argue that in order to become closer to God we must love each other more, so that closeness to God becomes something like a reward for loving others. He says that we must love God. As we do so, we come closer to him and, since we are all moving from the circumference (i.e., our lives) to the center (i.e., his life) we also come closer to each other. Growing in love for each other; growing closer to each other -- these cannot happen by focusing on them. They can only happen by focusing the attention of our hearts upon God. Don't worry about loving me; worry about loving God.

So the goal of the monastic life, including their ascetical practices is love. The praying; the fasting; the silence; the meditation -- all are intended to draw the monk closer to God. Before we think that monks properly think of themselves as superior to non-monks we should recall Chrysostom's admonition: The only difference between the monk and the married man is that the monk has no wife. Nothing is demanded of a monk which is not also demanded of a married man. Nothing is demanded of a married man that is not also demanded of a monk. We all "must rise to the same height."


Part 1, Legitimacy of Monastic Life

Part 2, Rise of the Monastic Movement

Part 3, Theology of the Desert

Part 4, St. Pachomius

Part 5, St. Anthony

Sixteen months on YouTube, and still generating comments like it was posted yesterday.

St. Anthony

You greatly delude yourself...if you think that one thing is demanded from the layman and another from the monk.... Because all must rise to the same height.... ~ St. John Chrysostom


In my last post I mentioned that Pachomius had studied for a time with St. Anthony of Egypt. In this post I want to write a bit about St. Anthony.

Anthony was not the first Christian monk; neither was he the first to go out to the desert. But he is certainly the one most responsible for putting desert monasticism on the map of the Christian life. He is hailed as the father of the monks because of his impact on the movement as a whole.

Most of our knowledge of Anthony comes to us by way of St. Athanasius, the well-known defender of Nicene orthodoxy. During the time of the persecution of Nicene Christians, Athanasius went into the desert, and it was there that he met Anthony, who made such an impression on Athanasius that he decided to record Anthony's life (i.e., The Life of Anthony), one of the classics of Christian antiquity. (Well, I think so, anyway.)

Anthony was born in 251 and died in 356--105 years. When he was between eighteen and twenty years old, his parents died, leaving him their property and the care of his little sister. One day in church, Anthony heard the gospel reading in which Jesus says to the rich young ruler, "If you would be perfect, go so sell all your possessions and come follow me." To Anthony God on that particular day intended him to understand that passage as addressing himself, personally. So he sold most of his possessions and gave them to the poor. Later, he went to church and heard a story that induced him to sell everything he had; he did precisely that, taking up residence on the edge of the city under the direction of an old man who had been practising the ascetic life for some time.

What are we to make of this? Upon reflection, it is clear that Christ's command to the rich young ruler, was primarily for the rich young ruler, not to all, the point of the narrative being that at least one who would not follow Christ did so because he preferred the enjoyment of his wealth. Jesus does not call all of us to sell everything. Apparently, as far as Anthony was concerned, he was of a type with the rich young ruler. Very likely, upon hearing the gospel passage, he realized that he too preferred the enjoyment of wealth to the riches found in Christ. We would do well not to confuse our call with the call of others; otherwise, among other things, we'll all be vying for church pulpits! That being said, although he may not specifically require that we sell all our possessions, Jesus does nevertheless want us to be detached from the things of this world just as Anthony was detached. This detachment, however, must be first of all internal in nature. Anyone, really, can divest himself of all goods, and still be attached to the things of this world. Perhaps, unlike the rich young ruler we do not prefer the enjoyment of wealth, but rather the enjoyment of sex. If we are not prepared even to consider the celibate life, we may be no more ready to follow Christ than the rich young ruler. For some others, it may be neither sex nor wealth--alcohol, carousing with friends. Believe it or not, as innocuous as it may seem, if you cannot tolerate long periods without the company of friends, you may not be as ready to follow Christ as you think. On the other hand, if solitude is your preference you are in the same predicament. We must examine ourselves, and face up to what we find there.

But recall that the purpose of this detachment is not detachment for its own sake. The purpose of detachment is to free us up to serve Christ whole-heartedly. There is little good in detachment if, in your detachment, you are not serving Christ whole-heartedly.

Athanasius also informs us that St. Anthony went from place to place learning from others how to live the ascetic life. According to Athanasius, "He observed the graciousness of one, the eagerness for prayers in another. He took careful note of one's freedom from anger and the human concern of another. And he paid attention to one while he lived a watchful life, or one who pursued studies as also he admired one for patience, and another for fastings and sleeping on the ground. And having been filled in this manner he returned to his own place of discipline, from that time gathering the attributes of each in himself and striving to manifest in himself what was best in all."

St. Anthony didn't learn only from his observations of other ascetics, but he was also devoted to the Scriptures. "Not a word of holy scripture fell to the ground, but found ready obedience in the heart of Anthony." What sort of lessons can we take from this? First, Anthony learned from others, emulating those he thought superior to himself and he learned from scripture, putting into practice what he heard from it.

I doubt many, even many of us who are Reformed, truly compare favorably with Anthony. Many are content to learn the faith, meaning, specifically, learning theology in the academic sense as if this were the sum total of the Christian life. Oh, and obeying the Ten Commandments, barely. In most discussions faith and practice means theology and worship (meaning, the worship service, that is, Sunday mornings and, for some, evenings, and maybe Wednesday evenings). Expound a bit too much on practice (especially fasting) and you run the risk of being dismissed as a legalist. Suggest that regular times of church-wide fasting be observed (but not required) and you'll likely be warned that you are violating Christ's command about fasting in Matthew 6.16. After all, if everyone is fasting then everyone knows that everyone is fasting and that means everyone is practicing their righteousness before everyone else. Huh? You mean like in church when we're all praying and singing hymns before each other?

But I digress.

The fact is, for the most part, we learn for purposes of discussion, not obedient action. We may even prefer discussion to obedience. We may actually prefer to hear, rather than to do. In that case, Anthony teaches us an important lesson: that the goal of knowledge is wisdom, that is, putting truth into practice.

It should come as no surprise that Anthony (who was illiterate, by the way) became known throughout the empire for his wisdom and holiness. Once, the Emperor Constantius invited him to the capital for a visit. Anthony, honored by the invitation, nevertheless declined because he had asked another man for advice. His advisor, Abba Paul (who was also Anthony's disciple), said, "If you go, you will be called Anthony. But if you remain here, you will be called Abba Anthony". Incredible: Anthony asks his disciple for advice.

What does Abba Paul mean by saying that Anthony will be called, "Abba"? If Anthony were to have gone to the emperor, then the interview would have been on the emperor's terms. Anthony's presence would have been a show for the court, no doubt, a show in which Anthony, at the emperor's request would have done something wonderful or interesting, fascinating the court with his holiness. (In all probability, the audience would have been respectful, but in the end also aware that Anthony had come at the behest of Constantius.) If, on the other hand, the emperor were to come to Anthony the situation would have been quite different, but not contrary: Anthony would not have been entertained by the emperor's presence. The emperor would have a proper understanding of Anthony's motives. I mean, the emperor, not Anthony, would be the one to undertake the long journey into the desert, humbling himself in the process and being in the proper frame of mind to listen to anything Anthony might have for him. As opposed to entertaining him, Anthony could really help the emperor, if the emperor was willing.

I can't help but wonder how I would respond to an invitation from the White House. I know some people who "worked" their respective networks to meet and have their photographs taken with two presidents. It would be nice (not to mention self-flattering) to think I'd turn down the offer. But in my experience, most of us don't know how we'll act in a given situation until we find ourselves in that situation; and we're likely to disappoint ourselves and others. (I will admit the invitation would be particularly tempting if were extended by, say, President Ron Paul.)

I recall having the opportunity, a specific invitation in fact, to meet the men in the band, Petra. At the last minute, I thought better of the offer and didn't take the opportunity. I'd like to say it was due to my having achieved a certain amount of the detachment we should have. Perhaps to a certain extent it was. I'd been contemplating becoming either a Benedictine or a Jesuit and, in addition to the Scriptures, had been steeping myself in classics of monastic literature. Detachment was the goal and I was taking a serious stab at it. But, right at the moment of declining the offer, I actually was pleased with myself for having done so. I thought I had achieved some level of detachment; but all I really did was appear to have done so. (This is one of many themes C. S. Lewis deals with in The Screwtape Letters.) Like I said: we disappoint ourselves.

There is a certain "glitter" which surrounds superstars, whether we're talking superstars in politics, the academic world, or the arts. And rubbing shoulders with them, for almost any length of time could possibly give us a high. If these are "spiritual" superstars then, of course, the high is a "spiritual" one. Perhaps, some sort of spiritual high is what Constantius sought in a visit from St. Anthony. To be sure, Constantius probably had some admiration for Anthony; but if he were to learn something from Anthony, then his going to visit Anthony was the best way. For one thing, a visit to the desert removes all the distractions of court life.

Perhaps Anthony's greatest example is the way he died. Says Athanasius: "It is worthwhile for me to recall what the end of his life was like. For even his death has become something imitable." Anthony learned from God that he was soon to die and made preparation. He entrusted himself to two of his disciples and as he lay on his death-bed, he "lifted his feet and as if seeing friends who had come to him and being cheered by them (for as he lay there his face seemed bright) he died."

It's easy for us in the West, especially if we are Calvinists, to dismiss this sort of thing as undue focus on humans rather than God--works righteousness, even. But Athanasius sought to inform the world about St. Anthony because, as he saw it, Anthony was evidence of the power of the gospel to change lives: "The Lord chose those who are his men like lamps to everyone so that those who hear may know that the commandments have power for amendment of life and may gain zeal for the way of virtue." In other words, God made Anthony's life known to the world then and now so that people could know that the gospel has power to transform lives and inspire zeal. God's power can transform lives and inspire zeal. The gospel is the power of God to salvation to everyone who believes.

Anthony often makes me wonder about the extent to which I myself have been transformed by the power of God and the extent to which the gospel makes a difference in the way I live. Of course, he's not the only one who makes me wonder about those things.

Part 1, Legitimacy of Monastic Life

Part 2, Rise of the Monastic Movement

Part 3, Theology of the Desert

Part 4, St. Pachomius

Theology of the Desert

You greatly delude yourself...if you think that one thing is demanded from the layman and another from the monk.... Because all must rise to the same height.... ~ St. John Chrysostom

You shall remember all the way which the LORD your God has led you in the wilderness these forty years, that He might humble you, testing you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not. He humbled you and let you be hungry, and fed you with manna which you did not know...that He might make you understand that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by everything that proceeds out of the mouth of the LORD. ~ Deuteronomy 8.2, 3

As I said previously, the new privileges granted to the Church by Constantine resulted in a number of problems, problems which to some were radical problems, requiring radical solutions. Chief among these problems was people joining the Church for the social benefits they could enjoy. It was in reaction to increasing worldliness that lay people went into the desert to seek God.

Living arrangements varied. Some were hermits, living in complete solitude. Others were cenobites, living in communities with one another. Still others combined the two lifestyles, living in solitude for the most part, occasionally meeting together for worship and celebration of Holy Communion.

But, really, why the desert? It would be erroneous to assert that these were men and women who just couldn't handle the "real" world, or just didn't want to. Unable, or unwilling, to bear the burdens the rest of us must do, they escaped to the peace and quiet of the desert. In fact, their selection of the desert was motivated by the Scriptures. In the Scriptures, the desert was a place of death, scarce life, scarcer supplies of water. Famously, the desert was a place for the testing of men and women of God, a place of preparation. The Israelites were disciplined and fashioned by the desert, for God in the desert forty years, into the Army of God which ultimately took the Promised Land under the leadership of Joshua. John the Baptist seems to have been a permanent resident. Jesus spent forty days in the desert to be tempted and to have the finishing touches, as it were, put on his preparation for his earthly ministry. The desert is not a place for ease-seeking social drop-outs. It is a place for spiritual warfare. It is a place where passions are conquered, and sins is are destroyed.


The desert reflected the monks' spiritual values. There was a connection between their living environment and their inner lives. The nature of the desert, as one might imagine, encouraged asceticism. In fact, the desert forces asceticism on those who would live in it. The desert forces detachment. One learns quickly what to keep and what to discard for purposes of mere survival. One is required to decide ruthlessly upon what must go and what must remain. That which interferes with survival must be let go. The same for the spiritual life: whatever comes between one's self and God must be let go. For the monks, the physical demands of the desert matched the spiritual demands Christ makes upon us.

The desert forces one to contemplate what things separate us from survival, the same sort of contemplation which should tell us what things in our life come between us and God. Money? Ambition? Food? Desire for the opposite sex? Seeking to be desired by the opposite sex? Are we more focused on appearances than the inner reality of who we are? Are we, really, more than a little afraid to find out who we really are? (If so, God may show you; and it will hurt. Trust me.) Do we seek comfort, more than we seek God? (Let's try to be honest.)

God wants us to be free from these needs. In truth, they are not needs. The desert will teach you that.

The desert is a place of deep silence. Can we handle silence? Hours and hours of it? Some really cannot. Most have some type of sound pumped into their heads for almost as many hours as they are awake. The desert has no music for you, no talk radio, nothing to occupy you or to entertain you. Until you get used to it, silence can almost give you a headache, or even what Tigger (in an episode of Winne the Pooh) called a "hearlucination". You talk to your self a bit. Long enough and you'll start talking to cactus. You'll hum. Soon, hopefully, you'll realize you're wasting precious moisture; you're throat will go dry.

In many ways, the desert is the best of all teachers when it comes to self negation. It forces you to take a good hard look at yourself, especially as you begin to think about the things you miss about "civilization". The desert doesn't care about you. The desert doesn't care about your academic or professional achievements. The desert doesn't care if you are a high school drop-out or a Ph.D. It doesn't care if you are a movie star, a rock star, or a king.

Ladies, the desert doesn't think you're sexy. It doesn't want your body. It doesn't think you look good in those jeans. On the other hand, it doesn't think those jeans make your rear look big, either. The desert doesn't think you're hot in a bikini. It doesn't care about your measurements. In fact, the desert doesn't think anything of you at all. It won't remember your birthday, or your anniversary. It won't flirt with you, or anything else that may provide an ego boost. It won't watch chick-flicks with you or give you cards or candy on Valentine's Day. The desert won't take you dancing. It won't take you to a fine restaurant. On the other hand, it will never expect you to, as they say, put out.

Men, the desert doesn't care about your athletic prowess. It doesn't care how fast you run, or how much you bench press. It doesn't care how much money you make, or that you run a Fortune 500 company. The desert doesn't think you're hot; it doesn't care that you have eight-pack abs. It doesn't think you're great; it will never look adoringly at you from across the room. It won't fall for your sweet-talking bullshit. You have nothing to say that will entice the desert into going home with you for the night. The desert will never fall in love with you. It will never be impressed with you. It will never respect you. On the other hand, it won't disrespect you, either. But it might kill you.

The desert doesn't think you're eye candy, not even if you're Megan Fox or Brad Pitt. And it won't provide you with any eye candy, either. It has no amusements, no diversions, no distractions from the harsh reality of life within its warm embrace.

The desert doesn't care about your hopes, your dreams, your plans--or your regrests. The desert doesn't know you; it won't miss you when you're gone. The desert will give you no recognition, no honors. The desert doesn't care who you are; it doesn't care who you think you are. The desert can't hear you; it is not even listening to you.

The desert has no social justice to offer you. The desert will offer you no food, no water, no shelter, and no clothing. The desert doesn't think you have rights, not to free speech, not to life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness; it just might rob you of life, liberty and happiness. The desert offers you no vote. The desert doesn't care what you think you're entitled to, certainly not at its expense. The desert will give you nothing, certainly not healthcare. More than likely, it will take everything.

When you are sick, the desert will not minister to your needs. When you rejoice, the desert will not rejoice with you. When you mourn, the desert will not mourn with you. And when you die, the desert will not know it. The desert will not eulogize you, memorialize you, or cry over the loss of you. The desert will not even bury you. The desert will leave your rotting corpse for the scavengers to feast upon. It will be as if you never existed at all. And, for the desert, you never did.

All these things the desert teaches you, while not so obvious in "the world", are true even in the world. No matter what you do, no matter who remembers you--the day is coming when no one will know, or care, about you at all. Joseph did many great things in Egypt; but one day a pharoah arose who did not know Joseph. So it will be with you, no matter who you are. Think of it: two thousand years ago, the word caesar meant something to the entire known world and could put fear in the hearts of men; now it is the name of a salad.

The desert will kick your ass and bring you down to size.

It does happen that some monks will forget the lesson. The humorous story is told of John the Dwarf. One day John decided that he had progressed far enough to have become more angel than man, and therefore better than his brethren. He decided he should be free of the requirements of labor and informed his elder: "I should like to be free of all earthly care like the angels, who do not work but ever offer worship to God."

John took off his cloak and went away into the desert. After just one week (I told you the desert will kick your ass) he returned to the monastery. When he knocked on his elder's door, his elder asked, "Who is there?"

"It is I, John, your brother," John said.

But his elder replied, "John has become an angel and is no longer to be found among mere men," and left him there, in his discomfort until morning. Then, in the morning, his elder opened the door and said, "You are but a man, John. And you must work in order to eat."

At this rebuke, John prostrated himself before his elder and asked forgiveness.

The desert can quickly whittle one down to size and put everything into proper perspective.Part 1, Legitimacy of Monastic Life

Part 2, Rise of the Monastic MovementPart 3, Theology of the DesertPart 5, St. Anthony of Egypt

The Rise of the Monastic Movement

"You greatly delude yourself...if you think that one thing is demanded from the layman and another from the monk.... Because all must rise to the same height...." ~ St. John Chrysostom

In my previous posting, I wrote, briefly, about the legitimacy of monasticism, suggesting that whatever its abuses, it is still worth trying to understand. I also suggested the possibility that such a life could be rendered consistent with Reformed theology.

It's worth asking why men and women went out into the desert in the first place, since that's were monasticism began (and why we still call it "desert theology").

When we look at the first three hundred years of church history, we find the existence of what we could call proto-monastic communities. These communities were based upon and organized around ascetical principles which were in turn based upon the teachings of Jesus in the gospels. Take, for example, Luke 9.63 where Jesus calls people to a radical form of discipleship, requiring death to self: "If anyone comes after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me. For whoever shall save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it."

As another example, in Matthew 19 Jesus told the rich young ruler, "If you want to have eternal life, sell everything you have and come, follow me."

In Paul's epistle to the Galatians, he wrote, "I have been crucified with Christ. Nevertheless, I live, but not I, Christ liveth in me. And the life that I now live I live by the faith of the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me."

Some think that the communities of widows mentioned in Acts and the epistles to Timothy continued into the second and third centuries, and, with a few changes, were transformed into convents. Perhaps. What is clear is that for quite some time there was in Christendom, East and West, a long standing ascetical ideal, which laid the groundwork for what became monasteries and convents.

It was during the third and fourth centuries that the turning point occured in the monastic movement. During this period, the movement took on a new life in which large numbers of men and women departed the cities for the deserts. By the end of the fourth century there were thousands of people living in the deserts of Egypt, Palestine, and Syria.

If we ask what happened in the fourth century which caused this explosion of men and women taking up residence in desert communities, the answer just has to be Emperor Constantine's conversion. Whether or not it was a true conversion it had, inarguably, certain undeniable effects. (I try to make it a habit not to question whether anyone's profession of Christian faith is genuine or not. The only thing we can assert about a professing Christian is that when he talks about his faith what he says accords, or does not accord, with orthodoxy. And that's it. But I digress.)

In 312 AD, Constantine defeated Maxentius, at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, and attributed his victory to Jesus Christ. According to one tradition, anyway, Christ appeared to Constantine in a dream with the sign of the cross and a message. Constantine was to go into battle with the monogram of Christ's name (Chi Rho) on the shields and helmets of his soldiers. By that sign, he would conquer. Constantine did as instructed, won the battle, and gave Christ the credit for his victory.

From that time on, Constantine began granting favors to the Church in ways never before seen. Almost right up to that time, Christians had been undergoing severe persecution, at the hands of the Emperor Diocletian. That persecution was the worst general persecution from the Roman Empire that Christians had ever seen. Christians were sought out, beaten, roughed up, and even killed for their faith. Churches throughout the Empire were broken into by Roman soldiers. The soldiers confiscated Bibles, tore down altars, and assaulted the clergy. Thousands were murdered during this time.

Suddenly, the new Roman Emperor, Constantine, declared himself a Christian. At that time, Christians amounted to anywhere from three to ten percent of the Roman population. It is difficult to imagine that Constantine saw some political advantage to professing faith in Jesus Christ. Nevertheless, this reversal of fortunes brought great joy to the church. Unfortunately this reversal of fortunes was not without its down-side.

As martyrdom declined, and earthly prosperity increased, people became, or seemed to become more worldly. Christians began to lose sight of the second coming of Christ, believing that nothing but good times were ahead. With Constantine's favor lavished on the Church, people began joining the Church and professing faith for the obvious social benefits involved in doing so. By the end of the fourth century, Christianity was the official state religion of Rome. Sadly, this meant that Romans were going to church, but not understanding the liturgy, or the theology of the Church.

As to worldliness, even some of the bishops who survived the persecutions of Diocletian now lived lives of luxury in beautiful homes with lovely wardrobes. The churches were swelling with large numbers of people. The worship services began to change. The simple liturgy became ever more elaborate. Ecclesiastical garments were embroidered with brightly colored (and therefore expensive) cloth. Services lasted longer and longer, even for hours in some cases. Thousands were attending worship; but few understood the faith at all.

In response, the Church began an elaborate educational program, the catechumenate, to teach people about the faith before they would be permitted to be baptized. Sometimes, as many as three or four years of Christian education would be required before entry into the Church. Gone were the days when one could be baptized into the faith on a mere profession of faith.

The peace which resulted from Constantine's conversion resulted in a laxity which many found distressing. The Church, in the opinion of many, was very unhealthy. And radical illness calls for radical remedies. In the eyes of many (including myself), as the needed remedy, God raised up a spriritual army of lay men and women to protest the compromise of the Church who would, and did, make themselves "eunuchs" for the sake of the kingdom (see Matthew 19.12). This spiritual army reminded the Church that the kingdom is not of this world.

It is interesting, and important, to note that the monastic movement was not a result of the clergy meeting together to determine a way to renew the Church. No renewal committee created what became the monastic movement. Judging from appearances alone, it was a spontaneous movement among laity. Judging from some of its more savory results, it was a movement of the Holy Spirit in the world, working through unremarkable lay people, most of whom were illiterate. But they understood the message of the gospel, in many respects better than the educated clergy.

Christ calls men and women to take up the cross and follow him, to die--to the world, to the flesh, and to the devil. That is what these men and women sought to do. They went into the real desert in order show those still living in the city how to live a "desert life" inside city walls, how to die to self.Part 1, Legitimacy of Monastic Life

Part 2, Rise of the Monastic MovementPart 3, Theology of the DesertPart 5, St. Anthony of Egypt

"You greatly delude yourself...if you think that one thing is demanded from the layman and another from the monk.... Because all must rise to the same height...." ~ St. John Chrysostom

Introduction: Legitimacy of Monastic Life

With this posting I begin a new series, as the title suggests, on desert spirituality, with a view to relating it to the Christian walk of reformed Christians. I am also returning to my broader goals for this blog. For a long time, too long (even for me), the focus has been very much upon political economy. On one hand this is to be expected, since I try to discuss philosophy, politics and economics from a neo-calvinist perspective. I have a certain preoccupation with ethics and political economy raises ethical questions, so it is only natural that I would spend a great deal of time on it. But I have other interests, even, in a certain sense, more important interests than political economy. And I want to post on them.Part 1, Legitimacy of Monastic Life

Part 2, Rise of the Monastic MovementPart 3, Theology of the DesertPart 5, St. Anthony of Egypt

The following was posted to my Facebook page as a response to a similar piece by one of my friends. The original is re-printed below, for purposes of authorial attribution and needful context.

Juan gets up at 6 a.m. and fills his coffeepot with water to prepare his morning coffee. The water is as clean and good as it was when his ancestors pumped it up from wells they dug themsleves without the help of tree-hugging liberals. With his first swallow of water, he takes his daily medication. His medications are as safe to take as ever because some smart capitalist, in addition to financing the research which brought the medication to market, also determined that knowingly, willingly and negligently killing customers isn't a workable business plan. He also knew that where he failed, one of his competitors might succeed, putting him out of business and his employees out of work.

All but $10 of Juan's medications are paid for by his employer's medical plan because some liberal union workers fought their employers for paid medical insurance - now Juan gets it too. Aside from the fact that he didn't ask for it, he also wouldn't need it if not for the insurance in the first place. You see, Juan is the curious sort who long ago wondered why the costs of just about every other good or service on the market has a tendency to go down, except for healthcare. Reluctant to take the word of people who give him things he did not ask for and then demand gratitude, he looked into the matter himself and determined that using the insurance model to pay for health care is one of the things driving up the costs--that and his government's dictate that there are no such things as pre-existing conditions. Then, too, are all the regulations which arbitrarily add to the cost of it all.

He prepares his morning breakfast, bacon and eggs. Juan's bacon is as safe to eat as it was when his great-grandfather and grandfather were growing pigs on the family farm in South Texas during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Of course, now, thanks to regulations and all those other good things he asked no one to do for him, his pork costs a hell of a lot more than it did a century ago (adjusting for inflation, which was also brought to him by his government). Not only that, but thanks to all these regulations, and licensing fees, and inheritance taxes, Juan's ancestors could not today afford to go into farming in the first place, leading Juan to believe that the primary purpose of these regulations is, for the most part, to limit the entry of new competitors to the no-longer-very-free market.

In the morning shower, Juan reaches for his shampoo. His bottle is properly labeled with each ingredient and its amount in the total contents because some enterprising capitalist accurately forecast that consumers would have a preference for his product over his competitors' precisely because it was labelled. Juan, of course, doesn't really care as long as it cleans his @#$%ing hair, so he has no intention of expressing gratitude to anyone for it. He paid for shampoo that cleans his hair--label or no label--and he received shampoo that cleans his hair--label or no label. He figures that if he ever really wanted to know what was in his shampoo he could have called and asked the producer to email him a list. Or he could wash his hair, and the rest of his body with lye soap, like his ancestors. Again: he didn't ask anyone for this shit in the first place. After all, even if he could easily pronounce Dodecylbenzenesulfonate, he doesn't have a degree in chemistry so he has no @#$%ing idea what the hell it is, anyway.

Juan dresses, walks outside and takes a deep breath. The air he breathes is clean not because some environmentalist wacko liberal fought for the laws to stop industries from polluting our air but because the people who own those polluting factories discovered they couldn't breathe the shit in the air any more than people who don't own factories. On his view the liberals don't want clean air; they want purified air--or just fewer factories, which they will get due the costs of building and managing new ones. (You know, like oil refineries.)

He walks on a government-provided sidewalk because it's there, whether he wants it to be or not, whether he asked for it or not. If being lectured to by liberals--in addition to paying his taxes--is the price for walking on a sidewalk he didn't ask for, then he'd rather walk in the mud, like humans did for thousands of years without having to be made to kiss meddling liberals' asses for an alternative. (He smiles at the probablility that those humans who walked in the mud for those thousands of years would consider liberals to be whinning, snivelling little pusses. The Spartans would have killed them, or exiled them: dead weight.) As he walks, he shares the sidewalk with children on their way to the elementary school, supported at the local level by his property taxes and at the federal level by his income taxes. (His own children go to a private school, for which he foots the entire bill.) He tries not be too miffed that the people responsible for taking his money in the form of taxes then turn round and lecture him on the gratitude he owes them for what they have provided him at his cost and depriving him, in the process, of those things he might have preferred to spend the money on--had he been allowed to keep it and employ it as he, the earner of the money, saw fit. "Thugs and racketeers," he mutters to himself. "I wish they'd grind this sidewalk to powder and blow it up their asses."

As he stands in the subway car, tolerating his government-subsidized ride to work, he fondles the .45 semi-auto in his overcoat and hopes two things: (1) he doesn't get caught with it since his caring and benevolent government won't let him be responsible for his own safety without its kind permission (any more than it will permit him to be responsible for his own ride to work); and (2) he never has to use it (because his benevolent government doesn't exactly own and manage the safest subway system in the world). He politely smiles at the liberal standing next to him, lecturing him on the benevolence of the government, who takes money from people who for the most part never use the damn thing in the first place. The liberal demands gratitude from Juan for an opportunity he didn't ask for--the "opportunity" to be a contributor. The liberal says, "I object to people like you enjoying the benefits I and my ilk provide and criticizing us for providing them." He tries not to laugh too hard: this liberal don't provide shit; he's a @#$%ing fast food restaurant manager who receives tax credits.

Juan begins his work day. He has a good job with excellent pay, because he doesn't belong to a union and is not bound to a collectively bargained employment agreement, which limits his pay to a figure approved by his union "brothers". Therefore, because of his superior marketable skills, as well as his skill as a negotiator, he makes better money than his unionized peers in other organizations. He has medical benefits, it's true. But this is not because liberal union members fought and died for it. (Another thing he didn't ask anyone to do for him.) It's because of U.S. domestic policy in WWII. Due to government policy, Juan learned in his private school, inflation grew both before and during WWII. As a “remedy,” caps on wage increases were imposed by the government. (Another financial set-back provided by your benevolent government.) In response, employers began to offer their employees health insurance to soften the blow and attract quality workers. ( WTF, mate? Imagine that: employers providing health care insurance, not because they were commanded by a benevolent government, but rather because of market considerations. Sometimes, it's an employees' market, not an employers' market. Again: WTF?) The federal government did not consider an increase in health benefits a violation of these wage controls, and the IRS (bless them for their infinite wisdom and generosity) ruled that health benefits were tax exempt for workers. After the wage caps were abolished, health insurance benefits became the norm and were not eliminated. Now, of course, these benefits, which started out as market driven benefits, are rights. And liberals want us to kiss their asses for (not!) procuring them for us. Thank you (relatively) free market.

It is noon-time and Juan needs to make a bank deposit so he can pay some bills. It's true that Juan's deposit is federally insured by the FDIC because some liberal wanted to protect Juan's money from bankers he determined were unscrupulous and ruined the banking system before the Great Depression. But Juan, again because he was privately educated, suspects that the liberal had no idea what unscrupulous actions the bankers took. Juan, on the other knows that the banking system wasn't ruined until after the stock market crash. Juan further knows that the stock market crash followed in predictable fashion on the heels of a great boom, a boom which was itself created by a fraudulent banking practice called "fractional reserve banking", which Juan, since he thinks its fraudulent, opposes. If banks were prohibited from practicing fractional reserve banking, he wouldn't need the @#$%ing FDIC. We wouldn't need the Federal Reserve, either, which would do away with inflation.

Unlike Joe the Republican (maybe!), Juan doesn't have a Fannie Mae-underwritten mortgage or a below-market federal student loan. Consequently he doesn't feel a duty to express gratitude to some elitist liberal who decided that Juan and the government would be better off if he was educated and earned more money over his lifetime--things which cost him (i.e., the elitist) nothing. Juan wonders two things: (1) Who the hell is the liberal to decide for him what would make him better off and then to force it upon him? and (2) Why do liberals, since they feel so strongly about it, not start their own mortagage and student loan companies and extend below-market loans to the objects of their concern? Better yet, he thinks, why don't liberals found, fund and operate their own free universities? You know: do something that actually costs them--and only them--their own @#$%ing money.

It is true that Juan attended a state funded university. But he attended it, not because it was state funded but because it was in a city he wanted to live in while he went to college. He'd have gone to that state funded university even if it were private. (He spent six years working his way through that university for his bachelor's degree; he'd have had no problem spending eight years working his way through a private one). Moreover, he'd have had no problem taking out a market-priced student loan, spending fewer years working his way throught school and paying the loan off from money earned from his improved employment conditions. Juan happens to believe that without state funding inflating both the costs of a university education, as well as the grades awarded by universities, there could be more private universities. This increase in the number of universities, all competing for students, would drive down the cost of a university education. (It's a supply and demand kind of a thing. A liberal wouldn't understand.) Finally, as a believer in privately funded university education, as well as personal generosity, Juan is a member of his alma mater's alumni association and gives as generously as he is able to financially support his university.

Juan is home from work. He plans to visit his father this evening at his farm home in the country. He gets in his car for the drive. His car is among the safest in the world. It's also a bit more expensive than it needs to be because it has features required by law he might not have wanted in the first place had he been asked. This, again, is because some meddling liberal fought for unreasonable car safety standards. As he drives out to his father's he remembers his great-grandfather's car that didn't even have seat belts because in those days, seat belts were optional; and his great-grandfather didn't think he needed them. Juan admits that he himself would have purchased them, but wonders what it would be like to live in a country where an adult is free to make such decisions for himself. What a country that would be.

He arrives at his boyhood home. His was the fourth generation to live in the house financed by three previous generations of capital accumulation--no inheritance taxes. The house didn't have electricity until Juan's dad was almost out of high school. It's true that some big-government liberal stuck his nose where it didn't belong and demanded rural electrification, which, naturally, cost the liberal nothing. The electric company ran the wires out there, but lost a lot of money because there were few customers: Juan's family and their neighbors didn't have shit that ran on electricity in the first @#$%ing place, and had no immediate plans to buy such things. But you can't expect your average, city-dwelling, big-government liberal to know shit about country living.

Juan is happy to see his father, who is now retired. His father, who lives on a farm, remember, lives on the money his still-productive farm generates for the family. Yep. His dad and mom handled their money well, making sure, as well as they could, that they could take care of themselves so Juan wouldn't have to. Not that Juan would mind: he loves his parents. (He knows there are liberals who think he shouldn't have to take care of his parents, but he doesn't care what they think. These are not their parents!) And it's a good thing his parents were smart with their money, too: Social Security don't pay squat. Who the @#$% can live off it? Certainly not Juan's parents.

Juan gets back in his car for the ride home, and turns on a radio talk show. The liberal radio host keeps saying that liberals are good and conservatives are bad. (Libertarians are probably worse than bad.) He doesn't mention that the benevolence bestowed by liberals like himself cost them nothing or, at most, a pittance. He doesn't understand why conservatives aren't grateful.

Juan muses aloud: "First they take our money, then return a fraction of it in the form of things we didn't ask them for. Then they demand our gratitude and call us hypocrites for living the life they have forced upon us. What the hell are we supposed to do? Rip out the seat belts? They have made it illegal not to use them. For this, we are to be grateful? Cabrones."

P. S. -- Joe Republican, who in Juan's opinion is almost as much a statist as any liberal, can speak for himself.

*********************************************************************

"The Life of Joe Republican"
by Hector Cruz

[Or; "How a Liberal Does Ad Hominem, Specious and Tendentious all in Seven Hundred Words or Less"]



Joe gets up at 6 a.m. and fills his coffeepot with water to prepare his morning coffee. The water is clean and good because some tree-hugging liberal fought for minimum water-quality standards. With his first swallow of water, he takes his daily medication. His medications are safe to take because some stupid commie liberal fought to ensure their safety and that they work as advertised.All but $10 of his medications are paid for by his employer's medical plan because some liberal union workers fought their employers for paid medical insurance - now Joe gets it too.

He prepares his morning breakfast, bacon and eggs. Joe's bacon is safe to eat because some girly-man liberal fought for laws to regulate the meat packing industry.

In the morning shower, Joe reaches for his shampoo. His bottle is properly labeled with each ingredient and its amount in the total contents because some crybaby liberal fought for his right to know what he was putting on his body and how much it contained.

Joe dresses, walks outside and takes a deep breath. The air he breathes is clean because some environmentalist wacko liberal fought for the laws to stop industries from polluting our air.

He walks on the government-provided sidewalk to subway station for his government-subsidized ride to work. It saves him considerable money in parking and transportation fees because some fancy-pants liberal fought for affordable public transportation, which gives everyone the opportunity to be a contributor.

Joe begins his work day. He has a good job with excellent pay, medical benefits, retirement, paid holidays and vacation because some lazy liberal union members fought and died for these working standards. Joe's employer pays these standards because Joe's employer doesn't want his employees to call the union.If Joe is hurt on the job or becomes unemployed, he'll get a worker compensation or unemployment check because some stupid liberal didn't think he should lose his home because of his temporary misfortune.

It is noontime and Joe needs to make a bank deposit so he can pay some bills. Joe's deposit is federally insured by the FSLIC because some godless liberal wanted to protect Joe's money from unscrupulous bankers who ruined the banking system before the Great Depression.

Joe has to pay his Fannie Mae-underwritten mortgage and his below-market federal student loan because some elitist liberal decided that Joe and the government would be better off if he was educated and earned more money over his lifetime. Joe also forgets that his in addition to his federally subsidized student loans, he attended a state funded university.

Joe is home from work. He plans to visit his father this evening at his farm home in the country. He gets in his car for the drive. His car is among the safest in the world because some America-hating liberal fought for car safety standards to go along with the tax-payer funded roads.

He arrives at his boyhood home. His was the third generation to live in the house financed by Farmers' Home Administration because bankers didn't want to make rural loans.The house didn't have electricity until some big-government liberal stuck his nose where it didn't belong and demanded rural electrification.

He is happy to see his father, who is now retired. His father lives on Social Security and a union pension because some wine-drinking, cheese-eating liberal made sure he could take care of himself so Joe wouldn't have to.

Joe gets back in his car for the ride home, and turns on a radio talk show. The radio host keeps saying that liberals are bad and conservatives are good. He doesn't mention that the beloved Republicans have fought against every protection and benefit Joe enjoys throughout his day. Joe agrees: "We don't need those big-government liberals ruining our lives! After all, I'm a self-made man who believes everyone should take care of themselves, just like I have."

This reminds me of something I was saying here. It may be that, as Eland puts it, "Tea Partiers are right-wing Obama-haters rather than liberty-lovers. And like their icon Sarah Palin, they seem proudly ignorant of history." But they probably can more easily be transformed into the sort of liberty lovers Eland and I would like than leftists can be.

"The effects of false and pernicious propaganda cannot be neutralized except by a thorough training in the art of analyzing its techniques and seeing through its sophistries." ~ Aldous Huxley, "Brave New World Revisited"

The nomination of Elena Kagan reminds me of a recent column by E. J. Dionne, on what it is marxists -- I mean, liberals -- need to do in the fight over the Supreme Court.

He begins his Monday, 26 April 2010 column by writing:

The genius of American conservatives over the past 30 years has been their understanding that the most effective way to change the country is to change the terms of our political debate. On issue after issue, they have done just that.

Sensible regulation was cast as a dangerous quest for government control. Modest measures to alleviate poverty became schemes to lock the poor into "dependency." Advocates of social insurance were condemned as socialists. Government was said to be under the sway of a distant "them," even though in a democracy, government is the realm of "us." And attempts to achieve a bit more economic equality were pronounced as assaults on liberty.

Notice that regulations, which Dionne calls "sensible", are simply cast as a quest for government control, as if that regulation is sensible which Dionne and his ilk call sensible. Disagreement is not principled; it is simply framing.