Quotes About Monasticism

The Buddha and his monks and nuns practiced voluntary poverty. They owned only three robes, one bowl, and one water filter. Are we able to live simply, content with just what we need? Or are our religious institutions simply building and acquiring more and more?

I cannot be a monk, nor a crusader, nor a tumbler. I must stay here and hem sheets until I die. My humors are greatly out of balance. I prescribe for myself wormwood and spiced wine and some of the custard left from supper, and I will let all of the dogs sleep in my bed.

As to our baths, there is not much that we can say, for we only bathe twice a year, before Christmas and before Easter." —Ulrich, a monk of Cluny, ca. 1075

Un monde est absurde dans la mesure où le contemplatif, l'ermite et le moine, y apparaissent comme un paradoxe ou un "anachronisme". Or le moine est dans l'actualité précisément parce qu'il est intemporel : nous vivons à l'époque de l'idolâtrie du "temps", et le moine incarne tout ce qui est immuable, non par sclérose ou par inertie, mais par transcendance.

tonsure—and wearing a dark blue

It is a kind of luxury to be a monk or a nun, to be able to sit quietly and look deeply into the nature of suffering and the way out.

If what most people take for granted were really true—if all you needed to be happy was to grab everything and see everything and investigate every experience and then talk about it, I should have been a very happy person, a spiritual millionaire, from the cradle even until now. If happiness were merely a matter of natural gifts, I would never have entered a Trappist monastery when I came to the age of a man.

The simple, chaste lines of a monastic Church, built perhaps by unskilled hands in the wilderness, may well say infinitely more in praise of God than the pretentious enormities of costly splendor that are erected to be looked at rather than to be prayed in.

There is a monastic outlook which is common to all those who have elected to question the value of a life submitted entirely to arbitrary secular presuppositions, dictated by social convention, and dedicated to the pursuit of temporal satisfactions which are perhaps only a mirage. Whatever may be the value of life in the world there have been, in all cultures, men who have claimed to find something they vastly prefer in solitude. (p. 10)

Had I ever read the Life of St. Bernard by Dom Ailbe Luddy?—

If monks are crazy to live the way they do, maybe the world needs more such craziness, what Matthew Kelty has termed 'the madness of great love.' My narrow world had just opened wide, and I had glimpsed such a love.

Living with people at close range over many years, as both monastics and small-town people do, is much more difficult than wearing a hair shirt. More difficult, too, I would add, than holding to the pleasant but unrealistic ideal of human perfectibility that seems to permeate much New Age thinking.

In many ways, airplane travel mimics the asceticism of the early desert monks: a limited and uncomfortable physical space in which to sit, limited availability of water, food that is less than appetizing, small chance of getting much sleep.

La base del budismo es la compasión hacia todo lo que vive o existe. Dijo que cada uno debe buscar la verdad o la iluminación dentro de sí mismo, no en otros o en cosas externas. Por eso los monjes budistas no andan predicando, como nuestros misioneros, sino que pasan la mayor parte de sus vidas en serena meditación, buscando su propia verdad. Sólo poseen sus túnicas, sus sandalias y sus escudillas para mendigar comida. No les interesan los bienes materiales

There would never be a way for me to live comfortably with people. Maybe I'd become a monk. I'd pretend to believe in God and live in a cubicle, play an organ and stay drunk on wine. Nobody would fuck with me. I could go into a cell for months of meditation where I wouldn't have to look at anybody and they could just send in the wine.

I should have been a Trappist monk.

I did take comfort in the vespers and compline. I might have become a monk if I hadn't come out.

Luther was guilty of two great crimes - he struck the Pope in his crown, and the monks in their belly.

Men were drawn to civilization; only the most severe ascetic among them relished isolation. Penitent hermits craved seclusion. Being away from the squalor of humanity was an integral part of their spiritual monasticism. They could talk more readily to God in the silence of their mountaintop cave or their desert isolation. It was easier to believe that the voice you heard responding to your queries issued from a divine trumpet if there were no other souls nearby. But he was a soldier.

The monkish vows keep us far from that sink of vice that is the female body, but often they bring us close to other errors. Can I finally hide from myself the fact that even today my old age is still stirred by the noonday demon when my eyes, in choir, happen to linger on the beardless face of a novice, pure and fresh as a maiden's?

I began writing in March of 1978, prodded by a seminal idea: I felt like poisoning a monk.

master did not share the austere habits of the Benedictines and did not like to eat in silence. For that matter, he spoke always of things so good and wise that it was as if a monk were reading to us the lives of the saints.

The monkish vows keep us far from that sink of vice that is the female body, but often they bring us close to other errors. Can I finally hide from myself the fact that even today my old age is still stirred by the noonday demon when my eyes, in choir, happen to linger on the beardless face of a novice, pure and fresh as a maiden's?

extraordinary life of eldress Gabrielia."3