Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem
[bonk]
Pie Iesu domine,...
[bonk]
...dona eis requiem.
[bonk]
Pie Iesu domine,...
[bonk]
...dona eis requiem.
The Revealer links to an article recently published in the LA Times, 'What Chores Would Jesus Do?,' a piece on the 'New Monasticisim.' It's an excellent article, and it covers an aspect of contemporary Christianity that gets almost no play in the media in this country. (Because of the current state of religious journalism, one can be forgiven for thinking that there are only three religious beliefs in this country: 'Fundamentalist' Christians, Banal forms of Deism, and Hardcore Atheists.)
'...Moving in last January, they pledged to spend one year together, learning to become true followers of Christ. They would give generously, love unconditionally. They would exchange their middle-class ways for humility and simplicity, forgoing Hardee's fries, new CDs, even the basic comfort of privacy.
"The focus has to be on God and the way of life he has set out for us, as opposed to the way we want to live, which is very selfish," Jeromy Emerling said.
A few months into the experiment, at a weekly house meeting, Jake Neufeld framed the vision this way: "Church is not something we attend. It's something we are."...'
And it ends up being a very difficult slog for them, if not impossible. Which is good: Being a Christian shouldn't be easy. The article gets laughable for a while, as this group of people struggle with consumer choices:
'...Some monastic communities pool their resources and renounce private property. The Billings friends chose to control their own finances, though they shared equally in rent, utility and grocery bills. They all said they wanted to consume less, spend less, so they could give away more. Yet they found it unexpectedly hard to give up little comforts.
Each family had come to the house with a refrigerator, so they now had two. They sat on a leather couch to watch Bible study videos -- and Jennifer Aniston comedies. Their pantry was filled with bulk beans, but they splurged on kiwi fruit, reduced-fat Cheez-Its, mint-chip ice cream.
When Phyllis, trying to be diligent about budgeting, refrained from buying a $5 pacifier for her baby, she stewed all day, questioning how much she must sacrifice to live up to the ideal of a simple life.
"Do we want to be simple about how many outfits our kids have? Or how nice the furniture is?" she demanded. "How many kinds of salad dressing are in the fridge?"
Phyllis proposed a cap on discretionary spending -- perhaps $250 to $300 per adult. Excess income would go into a community account, to be given away. Everyone nodded approval. Months later, though, they still had not put the plan into effect, or even agreed on a definition of discretionary: Did that include car insurance? Cellphone bills? What about Christmas gifts?...'
What's missing from the article, and maybe from these people's understanding, is that they haven't yet escaped. They're still playing by the rules of a consumer culture, thinking that the answer to 'being the church' is by cutting spending by 'X' percent, or watching fewer hours of TV each day. You're still obsessing about numbers and analyzing your life through numbers that way; the numbers may be smaller, but it's all about the numbers.
Still, though the experiment comes close to failing, there are noble things that result, and I'm impressed by these people, despite their love for Jennifer Aniston movies. Following a life in Christ is essentially an impossible thing to do, yet after a year of this, these people are honest about their successes and failures, and some vow to persevere, even as others abandon the exercise.
