No broadband?
Instead of reading pages online, open the ones you want in quick succession. Then go offline, call them up with the "History" button (Explorer] or Ctrl+H [Netscape], and read at your leisure

Notes on the Dedicated Life Living at Right-Angles by Michael Maasdorp ssm

The reasons why men and women decide to enter into what I call here the "dedicated life" (usually called the "religious life") are probably beyond analysis. They so varied that nobody I know of has yet been able to sort out a common element.

The dedicated life is so-called only to avoid the term "religious life". I find inadequate the idea that religion and Christianity should be equated. Christianity is a way of life which uses religion for various purposes. In truth, many Christians and non-Christians alike live dedicated lives without committing to the norms of monasticism. Being a "religious" sister or brother is no more "dedicated" than being any sort of Christian. G Moran and M Harris write that

The real question pertains not to the unusual choice to be a religious but to the unusual vocation to be a Christian  [1].

Nevertheless, why should anyone live that form of the dedicated life which includes the sacrifice of sexual activity, personal wealth and freedom of lifestyle? Geoffrey Moorhouse remarks about vocation to the dedicated life that 

... there is nothing which has been so wrapped in mystery and secrecy as the reasons why human beings become religious and so, by taking vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, put themselves socially and morally at right-angles from the rest of the race [2].

The choice to live "at right-angles" to the world is full of contradictions. Some forms of the dedicated life are deeply traditional. Others are experimental and radical. In the West it appears to be dying out. In other parts of the world it seems to be vibrant and growing. Many communities in the western churches have elderly members and few entrants. In contrast, the Melanesian Brotherhood has hundreds of members and many waiting for admission. The society of which I'm a member is moribund in England and Australia. But its Southern African household is growing.

One common factor does stand out, however. Those who live the dedicated life use the word "vocation" rather than "choice". They refer to a calling from God in response to the life of Jesus of Nazareth. 

But if they are asked, "How did this calling come to you?" or "What do you mean by vocation?" it turns out that the experience is intensely personal. The only common element I note is a reported "sense" or "feeling" of a call from God to engage this most unusual lifestyle.

I don't intend to deal here with this sort of conviction. There is little or nothing in it that I can grasp. My problem is that the theology almost always used to describe it has no referent. Talking about vocation in this way is like viewing an ordinance map of a country nobody has ever seen [3].

There is another, and I think better, view of vocation. Many young people end their secondary schooling with no clear idea of what they wish to do with their lives. Given the huge range of possibilities in most westernised societies this isn't surprising.

How is their choice of lifestyle made? There is a variety of routes, from repeated experiment, to "gap" years, to deliberate research on the basis of talent or preference. Few people today ask for or wait for God's guidance about their job. Perhaps more should. Perhaps it's better to say, "I'm an architect because I feel that God has called me," than "I choose architecture because I get a sense of satisfaction, I'm socially respected and the money is excellent".

Understandably, many today perceive the statement that "God called me" with scepticism bordering on the cynical. Do they have a case? I suspect they do. As Moorhouse remarks, when a person enters the dedicated life

... unless the individual is extremely articulate and analytical he'll utter no more than a string of clichés about love; and unless he is uncommonly honest and aware of himself and his motives he will gloss over some significant detail either from ignorance or from a fear that it might be interpreted as unworthy of him.

Two aspects of vocation as it is traditionally formulated puzzle me:

1. How is one to know the will of God? If it is possible to know God's will, how is one to distinguish it from all the other data one receives from one's environment? [4]
   
   The sort of deity who seems to deliberately make it difficult to conform with "God's will" isn't particularly attractive to me. Nor, if we take the decline of Christianity in the West, does such a God seem to attract many others.
   
   On the positive side, "doing God's will" in terms of vocation could be positively construed as theological shorthand for saying that we are at our best when we seek what's good for ourselves and others in the light of our strengths and weaknesses. Searching out a vocation in this sense requires good knowledge of ourselves and a thorough survey of available options.
   
   Let's imagine a person seeking his or her life's purpose. It occasionally happens that vocation is obvious from an early age.
   
   I happen to have been at school with Merle Park, who went on to become a prima ballerina in the Royal Ballet Company. There could be no doubt from the first that her talent and disposition would take her there. She had drive, the physical characteristics, a sure sense of timing and an ear for music - all in such perfect harmony that her "vocation" stood out.
   
   But such cases are rare. Most of us have to work it out for ourselves on the basis of our abilities, education and circumstances. Even if great care is taken in the discernment, there are often false starts. 
   
   Unless those considering the dedicated life have some special hotline to God, it seems to me that the same discernment needs to be applied to them as would be the case if they were seeking employment. "I think God is calling me" is, I suggest, too vague and too likely to conceal hidden motives to be useful.
   
   Which prospective employer, to take a case, would prefer the assertion that "I feel it's God's will that I take a job here" to a record of careful discernment and experience? Very few, I think. Why should God be any different?

2. Similarly, it's striking how frequently the purpose behind the dedicated life in community is stated as "To do God's will" or something like it. The Society to which I belong "... is formed of those who retain in it their commitment to the promotion of God's glory by the performance of God's will". 
   
   All dedicated communities are, we should note, companies - groups of individuals gathered together for a mutual purpose. Few would invest money in a commercial company whose reason for existing was "To do God's will". As a statement of purpose it is too vague and too problematic. 
   
   In a sense the statement is too basic to be of much value. Doing God's will is the purpose of everything on this earth - assuming that one admits the possibility of a creator. All human purpose is subsidiary to the overarching "doing God's will".
   
   Doing "God's will" must perforce always be followed by the question, "What is God's will". And once that question is asked, how to discover "God's will" is at issue.

3. Purpose is an important aspect of what Christians term "vocation". Well-thought-out life choices are usually purposeful.
   
   However, when others choose our vocation for us (often to serve their purposes) it seldom turns out well. Fruitful vocation is by necessity something freely chosen. Remaining motivated and dedicated to a cause not freely opted for is difficult. Most teenagers instinctively recognise this and, if they're wise, resist the urgings of anxious parents.
   
   Purpose in the context of vocation is best defined, I think, as an identified "reason for existing". All the evidence is that those with a clear reason for being tend to be happier and more successful than those who have none.

So I remain puzzled about why those in the dedicated life should frame their purposes in terms "God's will". A need to conform with acceptable formulaic slogans is no doubt one reason. Talk the theological talk and you may not be required to walk the dedicated walk!

The seeds of the traditional Christian approach to giving up sex lie far in the past. Antony the Hermit (251-350) and his fellow anchorites regarded sexual feelings as the devil's temptation. Jerome (345-420) reputedly exclaimed that "The only good thing about marriage is that it breeds virgins". 

This early attitude, which was to infect the Christian body for a thousand years and more (and still does), reached its zenith in the person of Augustine of Hippo (354-430). He taught that the sexual act literally carries sin between generations. It is hardly surprising that celibacy should therefore have come to be regarded as holier than a healthy, enjoyable and fulfilling sexual life.

It's reasonable to ask why anyone should give up all that goes with sex - emotional intimacy, the procreation of a new generation, and the sense of fulfillment which having a partner and children can bring. While sex was widely defined as sinful, giving it up was perhaps easier to entertain. 

In Africa the very idea is generally thought of as absurd. And in the West, now that sex is regarded as something not smutty but God-given, the choice of celibacy is also increasingly incomprehensible. In both situations vocations to the dedicated life are few and far between. 

Why should anyone sacrifice money and possessions? Traditionally (and usually only in theory) it's not "Christian" to counsel that money is holy. Behind that negation lie the reported words of Jesus in Matthew's Gospel and its parallels: "If you want to be perfect, go and sell everything you own and give it to the poor. Then you'll have riches in heaven" (19.21). Money is at the root of all evil, as the saying goes.

In other words, poverty for its own sake brings heavenly rewards. This is the teaching which has underpinned poverty in traditional religious communities for many centuries. 

Benedict in the sixth century wrote of the vow of poverty that "The life of a monk should at all times be Lenten in character". And yet "... for every Cistercian sleeping rough there is probably another religious somewhere ... slumbering in a pair of silk pyjamas ..." says Moorhouse. I know at first hand of a dedicated community where every member expects an expensive annual holiday. The household of another I know well eats considerably better than the average family next door to them.

Benedict's rule says nothing about communal wealth. But implicit in it is that a community will do well to remain solvent, but should not allow itself to amass significant surpluses. One American monk is reputed to have remarked that it is possible to be personally as poor as a church mouse while remaining a member of a community as sleek as a city cat. My own community, consisting of fewer than twenty members in the United Kingdom, possesses millions of dollars in cash and assets.

In truth it seems that if lack of money is the gateway to heaven, then quite a few dedicated in theory to poverty will not make it past St Peter. 

In the secular world, in contrast, money is more clearly perceived merely a means to other things. It is a token of one's ability to survive and prosper in ordinary life. There is no reason why getting it shouldn't be as holy as doing without it. Nor is there any intrinsic reason why giving it up should be particularly commendable. 
___________________________________
[1] Experiences in Community, 1969
[2] Against All Reason, 1969
[3] See The Sixth Paradigm by Richard Holloway 
[4] See A Plain Guide to Knowing God's Will

[Home] [Back]