The Ultimate Act of Faith

Contemplative monks and nuns in today’s world are often looked at in a negative light.  Those of us who live active lives look at the suffering all around us, recall God’s words about giving Him food, shelter, et al., and something inside us rebels against those who, in our view, lock themselves away from the cares of the world.   How dare they live semi-comfortably with a solid roof over their heads and often breathtaking surroundings, while children are being conscripted into armies in Somalia?  How selfish!  Aren’t we all instructed constantly by our teachers, our society, our priests on how we are supposed to give back?  Why are they exempt from that basic pillar of our society?  Give back to the world that has given you so much!

But take a second a reread that last sentence in a Christian light: “give back to the world that has given you so much.”

The world has given us so much?  What has the world given us? “All that is in the world…is not from the Father” (1 John 2:16). “Do not be conformed to the world” (Romans 2:12).  And finally, as Christ Himself said, “If you belonged to the world, the world would love its own; but because you do not belong to this world, and I have chosen you out of the world, the world hates you” (John 15:19).

We owe the world nothing.  We owe God everything.  Christ did not merely say “be nice,” but “whatever you did for these least brothers of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). The only reason we owe the world anything is because, and only because, Christ commanded us as such.  It is God who has given us everything.  To claim the world has given us anything disregards the Creator from whom all blessings flow.  God gave us life, light, truth, and every gift that we have.  We owe God everything—not the world.

Of course, for must of us, the Creator calls us to take care of the world of His creation.  It works out quite well for us.  We work at some business, or in government, or perhaps even at a nonprofit (and then we really feel holy).  We tell ourselves this organization is serving God’s creation in some way, and then we happily collect our paychecks every other Friday, donate a few bucks on Sunday to starving kids…somewhere—I can’t remember quite where right now…to calm that annoying voice God put in our hearts we call “conscience,” and then take the rest of the money to go on a well-deserved cruise in the Bahamas. 

For most of us, that’s all God asks, so long as we get rid of any prideful notion that we have somehow “earned” that money through our own merit or that we have any more right to it than our neighbor or the starving children.  Remember, each and every gift we use, down to our perseverance and work ethic, is a gift God chose to give us.  God asks us to direct some of it for the good of His creation, and then, in yet another gift of love, allows us to enjoy our cruises even while His other children starve.

Again, no problem, so long as if God asked, we’d cancel the cruise tomorrow and go work in soup kitchens on the south side of Chicago.  So long as if God asked, we'd cancel the cruise tomorrow and pray for him for 9 days straight.  After all, Paul instructs us to “pray without ceasing” (Thessalonians 5:17), and even three thousand years ago, the Psalmist instructed us to pray 7 times a day (Psalm 119:164).  The contemplative agrees that he cannot turn his back on the world (Thomas Merton has written beautifully about this in his book Contemplative Prayer).  But He is called by God to listen to Paul, and takes literally the Psalmist’s instruction.  He cancelled his life plans to get closer with God. 

Sure, God has called few to this vocation, but it is a vocation that I have come to immensely respect. I spent this past week with the monks at Gethsemani Abbey in Trappist, KT.  I tried to pray with them 7 times daily plus Mass (starting with a vigil at 3:15 A.M.).  I walked around the grounds as a retreatant while they were hard at work, and I could feel the effect on the surrounding area of their 164 years of constant prayer in that location.

Most of all, though, I came to realize that their lives were the ultimate acts of faith.  The rest of our lives are full of acts of faith, sure.—we do say the Creed every Sunday.  However, we all have insurance policies.  We have kids we’ve raised, causes we’ve fought for, people we’ve helped.  And, just in case this God thing doesn’t work out, we can still look back on our lives and know we have a legacy.  We’ve been “productive—” we’ll be remembered. Even the Pope has overseen the largest international charity in the world, and the lowliest priest helps people who are suffering every day.

Contemplatives, however have no such insurance. They have no families.  They haven’t given money to causes.  Sure they show “hospitality” to visitors, but generally that’s the Cross of the Guestmaster, and no one else need really know they’re even there.

If you view contemplatives with the eyes of the world, their lives are of 0 value (literally: with their vows of poverty, their net worth is 0).  Even martyrs, who give “everything” for God, have more: every Martyr is automatically a saint, and is remembered throughout the ages with their own feast day. Not many people mourn the passing of a contemplative.  Name 3 Benedictine monks who you’d pray for if the got sick or died.  How about 3 Cistercians?  Do you know any Carthusian nuns? Bethlehem nuns?  No?   Good—that’s the point.  Merton talks about how the purpose of a monastery or convent is to make contemplatives understand in a visceral sense that we are strangers in a strange land called earth.   It’s a rare stranger who gets a eulogy.

A contemplative takes Paul and the Psalmist’s words very seriously.  Their whole life’s purpose is devoted to getting closer to God.  They have no back up plan, and no one outside their individual cloister will remember them when they die.

We cannot help but look at them, and think that they are fools. 

And they are fools—fools for Christ. 

Especially if there is no Christ.

This week, I saw many men living out this ultimate act of faith every day.  I knew hardly any of their names, but I saw every day a faith lived out without excuses, without insurance policies, without advertizing.  And I ask myself, and you, what do we do for God’s sake and His alone?  What do we do that, without Him, would be meaningless.

Whatever it is, that’s what we should be doing more.