Monastic Asceticism Research Articles

Asceticism in Modern Times

In this paper I examine how ascetic practices – consubstantial with monastic life of every kind and in every age – have been reinterpreted in the context of New Monasticism, a phenomenon which emerged at the end of the 1970s at the heart of contemporary Catholic monasticism. Starting from empirical research carried out in the most important Italian neo-monastic community, I aim to show how, in its efforts to respond to accusations of “being out of date” and “trivial” which have been levelled at contemporary monasticism, this community has become the interpreter of a process of “invention of monastic tradition” which restores a particular reinterpretation of the grammar of monastic asceticism. An analysis of these changes allows us to throw light on a transformed religious universe in which if, on one hand, traditional concepts of Catholic doctrine have been emptied of their original meanings, on the other they are taking on new ones, sometimes far from, or out of tune with, orthodox guidelines.

Decomposing Rawls’s Philosophy of Justice with Foucault’s Discipline and Punish by way of a Transmutation of Hegel’s Master-Slave Dialectic in the Phenomenology of Spirit

Decomposing Rawls’s Philosophy of Justice with Foucault’s Discipline and Punish by way of a Transmutation of Hegel’s Master-Slave Dialectic in the Phenomenology of Spirit Rajesh Sampath Abstract This paper deconstructs Rawls’s philosophy of justice by appropriating certain theoretical views of power and domination advanced by Foucault’s work, particularly in Discipline and Punish. It attempts to show that the enclosed world of the prison may not differ so much from external normalization processes in a free society that tend to produce a servile consciousness to unquestioned laws and policies. Hegel’s master-slave dialectic is appropriated to advance this argument. The paper concludes with certain reflections on how Marx’s theory of the alienation of labor, monastic asceticism and religious self-examination and Foucault’s theory of the moral reform of prisoners - as an insidious form of domination - compare and contrast in various ways to disclose certain limits to the pursuit of ideal justice in a free society. Full Text: PDF DOI: 10.15640/jssw.v3n1a5

“The Time When … The Place Where”: Chronotopes and Chronologies in Love’s Labour’s Lost

William Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost notoriously confronts readers and playgoers with a number of puzzles linked to its representation of time and space, resulting in thematic and generic controversies, such as its refusal to end in marriage, “like an old play” (5.2.856). Careful study of unfolding narrative events reveals three overlapping temporal frameworks that render the comedy’s unfolding plot at times cyclical and slow, at times measured and moderate, at times linear and fast. These frameworks are accompanied by such spatial juxtapositions as private study vs. public ceremony, bucolic nature vs. courtly artifice, and monastic asceticism vs. worldly pleasures. Using Mikhail Bakhtin’s chronotope, which posits the indissoluble connection of time and space in literature, this article will identify three temporo-spatial frames that we have termed the chronotope of the retreat , the chronotope of the embassy , and the chronotope of the comic idyll . Each proves a locus or matrix where narrative events, cultural associations, and generic expectations intermingle to create a complex experience for playgoers and readers. Familiarity with these three models renders the play’s purportedly shocking conclusion rather more topically apt, generically logical, and chronotopically inevitable. The resulting temporo-spatial medley generates hitherto unrecognized comic subgenres, thematic coherence, and structural cohesiveness in a play often dismissed as haphazardly plotted or formally inconsistent.

Founded by, Dedicated to, and Fighting About the Holy Savior: Schism in Waldǝba, a Microcosm of Factionalism in the Ethiopian Church

Abstract For members of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, Waldəba is the emblem of monasticism. Its isolation and reputation as the site of the utmost rigorous monastic asceticism has made it the metaphor for the pursuit of spiritual life in the form of extreme self-denial. What the popular imagination does not allow for, however, is the fact that Waldəba is also a place of perpetual rivalry and acrimonious division. Betä Minas and Betä Ṭama, the two monastic houses or orders that constitute the community of Waldəba, have been bitter rivals throughout their known history. The rivalry of the two houses is in turn both an outcome and manifestation of centuries-old division and rivalry within the Ethiopian Church. The story of the rivalry of the two houses of Waldəba is therefore explored in this study for the light it throws on broader issues of factionalism in the Ethiopian Church. The main focus of the study is the period from the early seventeenth century to the present. Throughout this period, the dominant feature in the rivalry of Betä Minas and Betä Ṭama was a controversy on the doctrine of the Trinity. At about the same time, the Ethiopian Church was elsewhere beset by a Christological controversy on the meaning and relevance of the anointment of Christ. Thus far, the connection between the doctrinal rivalry in Waldəba over the question of the Trinity and the controversy on the anointment of Christ elsewhere in the country has not been carefully studied. By assessing and analyzing the relevant primary sources, this study shows that the two are in fact directly interrelated. In as much as the unction controversy was one of the most important issues in the history of the Ethiopian Church since the seventeenth century, the findings of this study therefore call for major revisions in our understating of the history of the Ethiopian Church and its relation with the central monarchy of the Christian Kingdom throughout this period. With regard to the theological issues at stake, this study shows that the controversy on the anointment of Christ was as much about the Trinity as Christology. Contrary to the tendency in the secondary literature to push the origin of one of the three doctrinal parties involved in the controversy on the anointment of Christ to the eighteenth century, this study also shows that all three were there since the outbreak of the controversy in the early seventeenth century. The amount of importance scholarship attaches to it notwithstanding, this study also shows that the synod of Boru Meda, held in 1878, to resolve the unction controversy, was not that decisive in settling the controversy. This study also casts doubt on the finality of the divorce of church and state effected as the result of the 1974 socialist revolution in Ethiopia.

Saints Alive!

Saints Alive! Peter Heinegg Robert Bartlett Why Can the Dead Do Such Great Things? Saints and Worshippers from the Martyrs to the Reformation Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013. xvii + 787 pp. $39.95. St. Augustine's question, which gives this massive tome its title, was prompted by the many reports of miracles worked by (strictly speaking, through) the saints. Bartlett, who teaches medieval history at St. Andrews in Scotland, doesn't try to explain why, how, or if the long‐dead Christian heroes could perform the mighty deeds attributed to them. Instead, he downplays theology and presents a minutely detailed taxonomic guide to the cult of the saints, one of the features of Roman Catholicism, Anglicanism, and Eastern Orthodoxy that most vividly distinguishes them from other Christian churches (not to mention Judaism or Islam). The density and thoroughness of Bartlett's survey can be numbing at times, but this is a magisterial achievement. The cult of the saints, he argues, is based on three components: the name (specific identification) and day (the liturgical feast, often assigned to the day the saint died), the body (or at least some physical remnant of the person), and the literary commemoration or hagiography. The reasons for the appeal and success of the cult are obvious: The Lord God could seem vague and inaccessible, if not terrifying. Saints were like us, only much better (and hence explicit proof of the ultimate in human potential). God was everywhere, but saints had particular national, regional, or local roots, which they shared with believers. They were the patrons of religious orders, guilds, and monasteries, as well of countries (although England's beloved St. George was a mostly fictitious martyred soldier from the eastern Mediterranean). They served both as a source of pride and help in time of need. If they delivered that help, they could be honored by votive offerings, such as gold or wax images of body parts healed through their intercession. Veneration (doulia, as opposed to latria, divine worship) was a quid pro quo affair. The first saints were the Virgin Mary, the apostle, and martyrs. Once Christianity became the state religion of the Roman Empire, opportunities for martyrdom drastically diminished (except for missionaries); and its place was taken by monastic asceticism, along with the more quotidian categories of “confessor” (though that could rise to the lofty title of “Doctor of the Church”) and virgin. A bit confusingly, the archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael were also venerated as saints, despite their celestial status, since all three are mentioned in the Bible or the Apocrypha as helpers of humans. And in one bizarre episode, a French greyhound was canonized as St. Guinefort. The dog had been slain by its master, thinking it had killed a baby (whom it had in fact tried to save). Neighboring peasants honored the dog as a martyr, but a Dominican friar named Stephen de Bourbon (whose order had close ties to the Inquisition), indignantly dug up the animal's grave and burned its bones. There were limits to sainthood. Statistics for the gender of saints are disputed, but starting from a low of 8% in the 6th century, by the 15th century perhaps as many as 28% of canonized saints may have been women. The proportion has never climbed higher than that. Canonization itself was loosely regulated throughout western Christendom, until about the year 1200, when the papacy claimed supreme authority in the matter. And the popes have been at it ever since: John Paul II canonized a record 480‐plus saints during his long reign. New canonizations still make headlines, and people still talk about the devil's advocate. The fame of outstanding saints like Anthony of Egypt (d. 356) or Martin of Tours (d. 397), gave birth to the incredibly voluminous genre of hagiography, rife with fantastic legends, spectacular miracles, and (for the martyrs) sadistic horrors. A majority of the miracles involved the cure of diseases, but they spanned a gamut from relieving sterility to raising the dead to predicting the future, driving out demons, levitating, and receiving the stigmata. Classics like The Golden Legend (ca. 1260) and The Little Flowers of St. Francis (ca. 1390) enjoyed a steady...

Ascetism: an endangered value? Mutations of ascetism in contemporary monasticism

This article seeks to understand the shifts which are affecting monastic asceticism in modern society. Is monastic asceticism really changing and in which terms? Why has the place of the body in religious virtuosity changed? As religious virtuosity is based on ascetic practices, we cannot consider that monastic life nowadays has totally eschewed asceticism. So we have to understand the new sense given to this traditional religious practice. It seems that both asceticism and the place of the body in monastic life are changing. Rather than a decline of asceticism, it is more accurate to say that its meaning is being redefined and it becomes more intellectual than physical. At the same time, the body acquires a new position: from mortification to self-fulfilment, it becomes a new ally—and no longer an enemy—of monastic life. So, is asceticism an endangered value? Yes, in the sense that it is no longer a religious value, as was proved by monks who said they are not ascetics, or the nun who said that her community lives a ‘non-ascetic asceticism’. However this does not mean that it has disappeared. The practice of asceticism is necessary to religious virtuosity, but the way to practise it and to define it has been changing, and this is contingent on other evolutions of the religious system and of society. The new kind of asceticism which monks are living nowadays is mainly intellectual asceticism.

Céli Dé in Ireland: Monastic Writing and Identity in the Early Middle Ages (review)

Reviewed by: Céli Dé in Ireland: Monastic Writing and Identity in the Early Middle Ages Patricia M. Rumsey Céli Dé in Ireland: Monastic Writing and Identity in the Early Middle Ages. By Westley Follett. [Studies in Celtic History, XXIII.] (Rochester, NY: The Boydell Press. 2006. Pp. xii, 253. $85.00. ISBN 978-1-843-83276-8.) The last major study of the Céli Dé was that of Peter O'Dwyer in 1977, which he revised with additions in 1981. This has been the standard work on the subject ever since, and many subsequent writers have adopted O'Dwyer's views unchallenged. Academic scholarship has waited thirty years for a reappraisal, and subsequently two major reassessments of this so-called "reform movement" in early medieval Ireland have appeared, including Westley Follett's work. O'Dwyer's work has had its critics, and writers such as Nora Chadwick and more recently, Colmán Etchingham, have questioned the categorization of the Céli Dé as a "reform," but their objections have been peripheral to the main thrust of their respective studies. Follett's work concentrates fully on reassessing the Céli Dé and is original in that it centers on the manuscript history of the various texts that have traditionally been associated with the Céli Dé monks. With painstaking thoroughness, Follett shows that the writings hitherto ascribed to the movement (if, as he says, it can be deemed a movement) are actually much fewer in number than O'Dwyer and other earlier commentators believed. Although this investigation of manuscript history forms the major part of the book, Follett also, in his long and detailed second chapter, explores Irish asceticism before the Céli Dé to put these monks in context. His carefully detailed study goes a long way to providing an up-to-date and much needed successor to John Ryan's now extremely dated Irish Monasticism. Etchingham argues that Irish monastic asceticism showed no sign of declining in the mid- to late-eighth century, and Brian Lambkin views Céli Dé as members of God's personal retinue who saw themselves accordingly as a kind of "religious elite." In his conclusions, Follett substantiates these premises of Etchingham and Lambkin, and it is, perhaps, the only disappointing element in his work that he takes these conclusions no further. However, it is in his methodology that he shows his originality. Whereas Lambkin based his suggestion mainly on the evidence provided by the poems of Blathmac and the Félire Óengusso, Follett examines and critiques all the texts that have been associated with the movement. He draws the conclusion that "céli Dé, at least in their eighth- and ninth-century manifestation, were more of a local phenomenon than a regional or general one, as has often been supposed" (218). [End Page 782] This is an important book both for the study of insular monasticism and for research into the history of early Irish texts. In the meticulousness of its scholarship it provides a model for the latter. It enters the current debate regarding the exact identity of the Céli Dé when this question is coming to the forefront of academic research and develops that debate in new and original ways by its examination of the manuscript history of crucial texts, showing how a more precise assessment of the authorship of these texts can assist in understanding Céli Dé identity. Although not everyone will agree with Follett's conclusions, by refining and narrowing the early medieval "database" of texts connected with the Céli Dé, he provides an important service to current and future scholarship. Patricia M. Rumsey University of Wales, Lampeter Copyright © 2008 The Catholic University of America Press

De otio religioso: Petrarch and the Laicization of Western Monastic Asceticism

AbstractThree of Petrarch's major prose works in Latin—De otio religioso, De vita solitaria, and Secretum—are treatises dedicated to the topic of solitude as an escape from the negotium of worldly life. An inquiry into Petrarch's understanding of solitude will show, however, that far from representing an idealized withdrawal from engagement in the world, ascesis is a technique employed by Petrarch to construct his own ideal of the public intellectual, disengaged and resistant to structures of coercive authority and power. His reshaping of an ascetic lineage, which puts early Christian authors side by side with writers from the ancient Latin Stoic tradition, may be seen as an attempt to delineate a new, laicized form of monasticism and the ascetic life. In turning to a closer examination of De otio religioso, this paper will emphasize two areas of interest, which seek to support the thesis that Petrarch's pursuit of contemplative life was strategic for the shaping of an uncompromised, intellectual, Christian identity: the presence of an absence, represented by Bruno, founder of the Carthusian order, as a model of ascetic dissent; and the absence of a presence, evoked by a radical reading of the Latin verb vacare with its more kenotic implications.

Reading Weber’s Patterns of Response to Critics of The Protestant Ethic

A close concentration on Weber’s replies to Felix Rachfahl (in 1910) and to Werner Sombart (in 1920) shows that whilst Weber seeks to create an ‘interpretative community’ for the reception of the Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (through an appeal to ‘common knowledge’ and ‘expert witnesses’), it is clear that Rachfahl is an outsider. It is also possible to trace developments in Weber’s articulation of his thesis across time relating to the importance of the psychological dimension in accounting for motivations to vocation, the relation between monastic asceticism and ascetic Protestantism, and the utilization of notions of affinity. During the dispute with Rachfahl, Weber utilized not only the notion of affinity but also the notion of a ‘corresponding soul’ created by asceticism for adaptation to the capitalist culture; however, the latter does not reappear in 1920.

The Reading Gaol of Henry James's In The Cage

The Reading Gaol of Henry James’s In the Cage Nicola Nixon Awaiting transfer from Pentonville Prison to Wandsworth Prison in June of 1895, Oscar Wilde received a visit from Richard Haldane—peer, Liberal Member of Parliament, and member of H. J. Gladstone’s Home Office Committee on Penal Reform. Haldane, presumably making his own personal contribution to such reform, promised to bring Wilde “books and pen and ink,” since, as Haldane saw it, Wilde had already “lived a life of pleasure” and “[n]ow misfortune might prove a blessing for his career.” 1 Never a fan of Wilde, but certainly a friend of Haldane, Henry James heard the latter’s account of his visit to Pentonville and immediately wrote to Alphonse Daudet. “A friend of mine,” recounted James, saw poor Wilde a few weeks ago, completely beaten physically and mentally—to the point that the prison authorities had had to loosen up on their discipline and put him in the infirmary, where he will probably spend the rest of his time in relatively easy conditions. My friend did not find that Wilde had even the slightest power of resistance or recuperation. If he only had such power, what masterpieces he could still produce! (translation mine) 2 Ostensibly earnest in its sympathy and enthusiasm for Wilde’s potential, James’s letter may well verge into mild disingenuousness, given his reputed distaste for Wilde’s flamboyant public persona and work. And had Richard Ellmann examined the letter in his biography of Wilde, he would certainly have infused his interpretation with characteristic vitriol, viewing it as yet another example of James’s “particularly repulsive” hypocrisy and vicarious distance from the reality of Wilde’s suffering. 3 But to question the sincerity of James’s optimism is, in fact, to overlook its precise similarity to Haldane’s or, for that matter, Wilde’s own in “The Soul of Man Under Socialism” (1891). All three of them perform the same gesture, invoking what Victor Brombert dubs the “romantic prison” to shed the best possible light on imprisonment. This popular nineteenth-century figuration of the penitentiary as the locus of monastic solitude and contemplative/artistic freedom—as the space in which incarceration is merely the imposition of external discipline, the [End Page 179] removal of the distracted artist from the (sensual) temptations of the world or sybaritic life of pleasure—contained the implicit promise, after all, that imprisonment would facilitate creativity and spiritual rejuvenation or maturation. 4 If the Wilde trials precipitated what Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick theorizes as “homosexual panic” in the mid-1890s, the public and private representation of the dreadful details of his imprisonment prompted something else.5 Not only did the reported details garner support for Gladstone’s penal reform plan, which would not come into effect until after Wilde was released, but they challenged the pervasive, benign figure of the “romantic prison,” which could not quite reconcile the rosy consolation of contemplative solitude and the harsh actuality of oakum picking—the bright promise of artistic freedom and the reality of dysentery, or the glow of monastic asceticism and the gross physicality of acute nausea. Shortly after the reports of Wilde’s physical and mental collapse began to circulate in newspapers, men’s clubs, and letters from one sympathetic friend to another, all the optimism that infused, say, James’s letter to Daudet or Haldane’s assurances to Wilde, disappeared, dissolving into grim observations about the inhumanity of hard labor as a form of punishment. What is curious about this loss of confidence in the potential transformation of an essentially literary construct into a reality for the imprisoned Wilde, however, is not so much that it encouraged a reevaluation of the romantic construct on the part of James, but that it seemed to have no impact on Wilde whatsoever. In 1897 he emerged from his debilitating, two-year stint in Reading Gaol and immediately wrote “The Ballad of Reading Gaol”—an explicit celebration of the romantic prison. A mere six months later James responded with his own, rather unorthodox prison narrative, In the Cage, a novella that, while seemingly inspired by Wilde’s text, countered the “Ballad”‘s easy assumption that a...

Occulta cordis. Contrôle de soi et confession au Moyen Âge (II)

Occulta cordis. Self-control and Confession in the Middle Ages - Two forms of silence existed in the Middle Ages : the silence of monastic asceticism and that of aristocratic prudence. This dual silence concealed the most intimate secrets of the heart, intended for the scrutinatio of God alone. A resulting parallel art of self-control, hindering all spontaneous communication, corresponded to the hermeneutics of the « exterior man ». This elementary structure of social behaviour was rendered more complex by the pressure of another religious imperative : the duty of self-examination and of confession to God to perfect sincerity. The historical turning point came with the institution of obligatory auricular confession by the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), stressing not so much introspection as avowal, as disclosure of the occulta cordis, on which depended eternal fate. Stemming from the search for hidden sins of thought was the logical corollary to confession, the Inquisition, which, like God's central gaze, was intended to pierce the secrets of the heart. Absolute transparency, which had been the exclusive prerogative of God, became the main purpose of this institution both sacred and potilical, which claimed to be God's representative on earth.