Asceticism in the Modern World

Lent is upon us. You’ve probably heard that a lot. Hopefully you’ve been trying to engage in the customary practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, despite the busy life of a college student.

When I consider Lent, I am always struck by the example of the asceticism of our Christian forebears, especially in the golden age of the Desert Fathers in the early centuries of the Church. Legends abound of their incredible abstinence, self-control, and fortitude. They are quite intimidating, and perhaps not without reason some write them off nowadays as potentially dangerous.

If you haven’t heard of their famous exploits, try reading The Sayings of the Desert Fathers or other literature about figures such as St. Anthony the Great, St. Simeon Stylites, or St. Ephraim the Syrian. You’ll see what I mean.

I’ve always liked them since I first read them and read about them. Stern, yes, but their era called for great sternness amidst the decadence of pagan culture and the slow erosion of the relative political stability the Roman Empire provided.

Let’s take it as given that their endurance is not merely a thing of legend. Such an astonishing amount of testimony to their asceticism does not come from thin air, and if even half of it is true, it’s mind-blowing, at least to me. Take it as even imaginable that there really was such unimaginable endurance at one point in this world, and reflect upon that.

I’ll be honest, I struggle greatly with even fairly simple ascetical practices. Going through the whole of Lent without breaking some of the rules on a feast day or Sunday (an annual excuse for me) is hard, and that’s just with food. Never mind sleeping on a cold stone pillar, eating nothing but bread and water occasionally, praying all day long, or keeping night vigils, all of which the legends of the Desert Fathers speak of as regular, year-long penances, the normal fare (or lack thereof).

Frankly, to think that such men and women are my spiritual predecessors is sort of terrifying. What am I to people of such stature? If they went through all of that, and according to their own words were barely self-controlled, just barely attaining real prayer occasionally, then what hope is there for me?

Yet on the other hand, they were human beings too, were they not? If such asceticism was possible for them, can at least some of it be possible for me?

I think that it’s more than just possible. Perhaps it’s necessary. Consider the analogies between our time and the late Roman Empire which are being made more and more frequently. Culturally, we appear to be in a very similar context in terms of decadence, pessimism, and morality.

It was not in the context of great and widespread piety but the real opposite that so many of the great Church ascetics arose. In medieval times, too, the truly great ascetics (like St. Dominic and St. Francis) arose in opposition to heresy and laxity.

It seems that we cannot use our times as an excuse to dodge the challenge of the Desert Fathers. The objection that we live in a different world does not seem to hold too well; the spiritual challenges are, on the whole, not far from what they grew up in and endured. The only significant difference that comes to mind is that they saw themselves as opponents of the world, whereas we modern Catholics frequently shy away from such language.

There must come a time when the world must see what Catholicism is capable of when the occasion demands it. In an era of ever-increasing pragmatism, where the question is ‘What is your belief good for, what good does it do?’, a great answer is the same stern spirit as in centuries past. The world demands a proof of faith, and our spiritual predecessors furnish us with the means in their example.

Thus, I reckon it possible, and even likely, that a great rebirth of asceticism is necessary for the Church’s continued life in this modern era. As often as the world has challenged the Church, the Church has responded with prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. If the challenge has reached a fever pitch, must not the response be of equal power?

The notion is intimidating because we are by and large accustomed to fitting in more or less nicely, perhaps making a splash once in a while and in our own small way, but never trying to be too conspicuous. But the times may call for a more visible demonstration of Christian discipline, to tell the world that asceticism is possible, making that practice a badge of the validity of faith; not for one’s own sake, but as a testimony to skeptics and the dubious.

I still encourage you to examine the lives and sayings of the Desert Fathers. But alongside me, I further exhort you to look at how they might provide not just accusations of our own laxity, but models of what to strive toward. 

They flew into the desert to show the world the power of Christian practice. We have no such deserts now, being mostly the dens of casino resorts and concrete vistas, but it remains possible, as always, to demonstrate discipline amid our daily lives. That’s dramatic enough nowadays; no particular need for St. Anthony’s abandoned fortress and St. Simeon’s pillar.