Whither Religious Communities?
Two recent stories in the Church Times lament the demise of religious (monastic) communities in the U.K., and especially within the Church of England.
The religious life within Anglicanism has never enjoyed the level of support found in Roman Catholicism. As a church born of the Reformation, religious communities were suppressed within the Church of England. They were, however, revived thanks to the Oxford Movement of the 19th century. Even some seminaries (like the one I attend) were inspired to follow the daily rhythm of Benedictine Rule.
Today, though, such communities are--again--on the decline. The stories in Church Times describe the paradox that ours is an age that enjoys anew contemplative forms of spirituality but yet membership in religious orders is at an all time low, and many communities as a whole are dying a silent death. The problem seems to be commitment. The idea of committing oneself, lifelong, to the rigors of monastic oaths--particularly, celibacy--is a cross too heavy to bear.
How might we address the problem (if you, like me, agree with the authors that this is genuinely a problem)? The second story raises this fascinating proposal:
On a grander scale, my suspicion is that the luster of the modern world is beginning to wear off in the West. More and more, people sense that consumerism is vapid. The economy itself is teaching us that the pursuit of wealth is a vain delusion. Happy-go-lucky relativism is a luxury we can ill afford in a world full of 9/11s, Darfurs and AIDs pandemics. What has not faded yet, however, is a whole other panoply of romantic delusions. They live on. To whit: that we can live life on our own terms; that sexual experimentation is a right everyone ought to invoke as soon and as often as possible; and that commitment is only bondage, not genuine freedom.
Religious communities clearly are not immune from these cultural tides. But while the modern world dies in fits and starts, it seems to me that the things of enduring value will persist, even if they must--for a time--adapt. Religious communities are well poised to help us negotiate these turbulent times, and serve as a beacon amidst the storm. I hope that they will not die but will find a way to adapt and renew their vision and mission. For their sake. For ours. And ultimately, for our Lord's.
The religious life within Anglicanism has never enjoyed the level of support found in Roman Catholicism. As a church born of the Reformation, religious communities were suppressed within the Church of England. They were, however, revived thanks to the Oxford Movement of the 19th century. Even some seminaries (like the one I attend) were inspired to follow the daily rhythm of Benedictine Rule.
Today, though, such communities are--again--on the decline. The stories in Church Times describe the paradox that ours is an age that enjoys anew contemplative forms of spirituality but yet membership in religious orders is at an all time low, and many communities as a whole are dying a silent death. The problem seems to be commitment. The idea of committing oneself, lifelong, to the rigors of monastic oaths--particularly, celibacy--is a cross too heavy to bear.
How might we address the problem (if you, like me, agree with the authors that this is genuinely a problem)? The second story raises this fascinating proposal:
Sometimes I wish we had a kind of monastic National Service, akin to the tradition of temporary monasticism found in some Buddhist countries. This is not as implausible as it might seem. The Melanesian Brothers and Sisters, the Anglican religious order in the Solomon Islands, take vows for five years at a time. Unlike most religious communities in the UK, the order is youthful, vibrant, and growing.I like this idea a lot. In fact, it could easily become a feature of other kinds of faith-based communities--non-celibate intentional communities, for instance--where Christian brothers and sisters, perhaps even families too, could enter into a deeper form of community for a certain stage of one's life. Perhaps it is during one's graduate education; or during an transition stage, where one career path is opening onto another; or during an interim phase, where one lacks a clear path ahead and needs time for prayer and reflection. A family who finds itself homeless might join such a community as the parents train for new careers. For me, personally, the idea that I could have taken a 3- or 5-year vow during my graduate education, for instance, would have held genuine appeal. I needed the daily discipline of prayer and study, and doing so within a community of brothers in Christ could have given my education an entirely deeper spiritual dimension.
The predictable objection to the idea of temporary vows in the context of traditional monastic communities is that it would undermine the principle of stability, which is the very basis of their life. I wonder. Presumably among those who signed up for a limited term, there would be some who would stay longer, perhaps even for life — as is the case with the Melanesian Brothers.
It is possible that by removing the forbidding notion of a life-sentence, the prospect of being a monk, a friar, or a nun would seem a good deal more feasible to people who might like to explore the possibility, but felt unable to make a life-long commitment at the outset.
On a grander scale, my suspicion is that the luster of the modern world is beginning to wear off in the West. More and more, people sense that consumerism is vapid. The economy itself is teaching us that the pursuit of wealth is a vain delusion. Happy-go-lucky relativism is a luxury we can ill afford in a world full of 9/11s, Darfurs and AIDs pandemics. What has not faded yet, however, is a whole other panoply of romantic delusions. They live on. To whit: that we can live life on our own terms; that sexual experimentation is a right everyone ought to invoke as soon and as often as possible; and that commitment is only bondage, not genuine freedom.
Religious communities clearly are not immune from these cultural tides. But while the modern world dies in fits and starts, it seems to me that the things of enduring value will persist, even if they must--for a time--adapt. Religious communities are well poised to help us negotiate these turbulent times, and serve as a beacon amidst the storm. I hope that they will not die but will find a way to adapt and renew their vision and mission. For their sake. For ours. And ultimately, for our Lord's.
I would like to see the possibility for 'monastic' communities open to families. Or perhaps this just means the parish/community axis that I keep thinking about. My dream abides and I want to see it become a reality.
ReplyDeleteI agree. Family life within a religious community could be rich and beneficial for many families, especially if it were not indefinite (or the option remained open).
ReplyDeleteReligious communities struggle today from an identity crisis, but if they go back to the initial vision from the 4th century (at the dawn of middle ages), I think they could re-envision themselves as the very safe havens for the spiritual quest Pachomius, St. Benedict and others envisioned them to be. Such safe havens were more than mere bulwarks against social and cultural decay, but they also served as that, too. So, too, should religious orders think deeply about the problems of our times and rediscover a sure solution found in Christ-centered community.