What is mine to give?

Monks “have neither their bodies nor their own wills at their own disposal.”

I write these words sitting in an apartment ninety miles from the ongoing demonstrations in Minneapolis in the weeks after Renee Good was killed by an ICE agent while protesting immigration crackdowns on local populations. Ten days ago, when I crossed the state line into Minnesota, I felt a chill pass through my body. And now here I sit wrestling with how I am or am not responding to what is happening in Minneapolis—and in the United States. What am I called to do as an interdependent human creature, as a follower of Jesus, as an educated, privileged, white woman, as a citizen of the United States (who was not born in this country), and as a monk?

From Chapter 33 of the Rule of Benedict” Monks “have neither their bodies nor their own wills at their own disposal.”

The hard answer came at a lecture I attended in St. Cloud, Minnesota, on Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Day: “How does a Black pastor today read King’s ‘Letter from Birmingham jail?’” The speaker was Pastor James E. Alberts II of Higher Ground Church of God in Christ and president of ISAIAH. He was interviewed by Nora G. Hertel, founder of Project Optimist and formerly at St. Cloud Times.

Let me preface my reflections on Pastor Alberts’s words by telling you that I have been struggling with a question that has grown louder and louder in my head: How do I authentically follow Jesus’ teachings today? Does being a monk support a courageous and costly following of Jesus? Or has comfort and security lulled me into some kind of quiet acquiescence to middle class monastic life?

When I was a young and idealistic, I took very seriously—and literally—Jesus’ words to “sell what you have, give to the poor, and come follow me.” My choices earned me the ire of my dad who grew up as one of those poor, a “deplorable” in the eyes of many in his rural hometown where in high school he was voted “least likely to succeed.” He proved them all wrong by becoming the most successful in his class and, with my mother (who also knew poverty), grew a successful construction business and lovingly and generously raised six children who never knew want. My dad could not understand why I, the oldest of his children, was seemingly rejecting all he stood for. He didn’t get my Jesus thing.

While studying at a Catholic college (a privilege I was accorded by my parents), a wise philosophy professor who knew something of my inner turmoil about choosing poverty and following Jesus, explained to me that even if I sold everything, I could never be poor. I was white, educated, had a familial safety net, and was an upper middle class United States citizen. That was greater wealth than most of the world enjoyed and I could not erase it—but I was responsible for putting it to good use.

Fifty years later, I am increasingly troubled by the wealth, privilege, and security of my monastic life even while I accept the many opportunities it gives me. During the two months I will be in Minnesota focusing on developing the idea of the Fifth Kind of Monk I hope to more deeply explore those concerns. But now I want to return to Pastor Alberts.

Please note that I am writing these words to myself. I am the only person I am judging. If you read these words and feel judged, that is something you need to take up with your own conscience. My conscience is busy enough.

One of the most challenging chapters of the Rule of Benedict for privileged Americans like me is Chapter 33 on private ownership. Obviously, we don’t literally live according to words written in the sixth century for a largely illiterate medieval community—there are many instructions in the Rule that we gloss over even while honoring the underlying principles. One line from Chapter 33 that is totally out of sync with our modern understanding of human development and personal accountability is that the monks “have neither their bodies nor their own wills at their own disposal.” I mean, really.

But when Pastor Alberts spoke about those who put their bodies in harm’s way for love of neighbor and for justice, that line exploded into my consciousness with a whole new meaning.

Pastor Alberts, referencing Dr. King, said that we must be, “willing to put our bodies in harm’s way but not to respond with our bodies. To sit there at the counter, to be pulled on and spit on and hit and not to retaliate.” Whoa. Talk about handing my body and my will over to another, not having either at my disposal. Talk about following Jesus’ teaching. What did I really vow to live?

As he spoke of the power of the nonviolent civil rights movement, Pastor Alberts said communities didn’t want Dr. King to come because of the destruction that would be left in his wake, the work that would need to be done. Such should be the Fifth Kind of Monk. The nonviolent disruption is needed in our culture, too, because our normal life ignores the plight of the individuals who make the life we’re living possible.

“If you are not putting your body on the line for your brothers, your sisters, you are not loving,” Pastor Alberts told his mostly older, white audience. “Who is the moment calling for? Who is needed?” he asked us. “Often the moment calls for whomever answers…. It could be any one of us that this time is calling for. …maybe it is better that we don’t know who, but that we all try to respond. And if we are the one, step into the destiny that is ours.”

While I long to live the ideal, I am afraid. I’m afraid of physical suffering and death, remote as the possibility is. But what I am really afraid of, and what could very well happen if I follow Jesus’ teaching, is losing privilege and comfort. Maybe security, maybe position and respect. I like my stuff. I like being able to buy stuff. I like being able to go into a restaurant and know I can take a seat and afford to buy a meal. When I go into a store, no one looks twice at me, I not only know I belong, everyone else does too.

Will I ever be willing to put my body and my will on the line out of love? Or to give up all that stuff? I honestly don’t know.

Pastor Alberts ended with a question he wasn’t asked: “Is it going to get worse before it gets better?” Then he answered his own question, “Yes.”

We’ve only just begun; there is ample opportunity for anyone who wants to be the one who disrupts, the one who loves. It’s the work of the Fifth Kind of Monk.

A recording of the interview is here.

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