Asceticism: how much is too much?

[bardegaulois]

Certainly, one’s intention in his self-denial will have a say in what is fitting. However, God perfects our imperfect intentions over time.

I don’t know if this is more a fast or a hunger strike, whether I’m saying to God, “I’m mortifying my senses so as to be more useful for you,” or, “That’s it. I’m sick of being your plaything. Realize your promises or I shall starve myself at your doorstep.” The latter seems more radical, more extreme, yet more needed.

This is that sort of “die before you die” mentality. I’ve long seen the graces of God about me as a good and beautiful thing, and the rigours of a more severe penitential life as something cold and forbidding. Maybe it’s not the life I’m supposed to lead. Maybe I’m to be a toothless beggar. Or maybe President of the United States. I can’t hate any fate–hate is just a disordered form of love anyway, and I’d much rather be indifferent.

The poet Francis Thompson likened God to the unrelenting “hound of heaven.” And my, how unrelenting is he! And despite my soul having been His quarry for a while, I yet don’t know what, where, how to submit in order that His promises be fulfilled and my life my united with Christ’s. Be it joy? Anything but. He destroys, sometimes with extreme prejudice, all my best-made and most reasonable plans. He undermines what I think to be my self-knowledge constantly. He robs me of things, things that are merely morally neutral. He humiliates me. God’s love reminds me of no love I’ve ever dreamed of; it is ruthless and even cruel at times, and makes me to live in troubled and nauseous chagrin. It’s surely no sentimental romance, but much more like Greene’s The End of the Affair.

So what the hell does He want? I’m a little sick of being wrong and being banged about all over the place when I am wrong, not of much good for anything or anybody. So, I’ll have to force His hand. I know we shouldn’t tempt God, but I’ve no other choice. I’ll no longer take nourishment. Not for a set period, not for a spell, but until I’m where I need to be. As I said, I no longer care–or at least I desire no longer to care. If the Lord will have me on this earth, I’ll trust He’ll bring to where I need to be, and if it’s something I doubt, I’ll just swallow my pride. If He doesn’t want me here, then oh well, we all need to get over our fear of death sometime. If I have to be one of those ascetic monks that I’ve often thought somewhat creepily inhuman, then, why should I care? I’d be a cause for mockery any other way; it might as well be for the Gospel’s sake.

I don’t know; I seem a little mad right now. But I doubt complacency ever won the Kingdom of Heaven. Any thoughts?

 

[Trishie]

I think you may need to consider seeking proper spiritual advice from a good priest/spiritual director.
Jesus said, “…If a blind man leads a blind man, both will fall into a pit.” Matthew 15:14
If the blind person leading us is ourselves, we are in trouble!

And in your frustration and anger, consider if you are blaming God for your difficulties some of which are self-created by attitude
and some the natural human condition? What does God want?

Jesus summed that up with 'love God above all, love others"
Loving others is giving kindness and support to others in useful and real ways. It might involve a kind word instead of an angry one, a smile instead of a frown.
We can blame others for lack of kindness but how kind are we really?

You ask what God requires of you, of us
" And what does the Lord require of you? (Scripture asks)
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

When Jesus describes the Judgement of Souls in Matthew 25 verses 31-46, He uses as criteria, not how ascetic the soul is, but whether or not the person has lived lived of practical kindness to others for His sake and theirs. It requires self discipline and self mastery not to be selfish but the live lives of practical kindness to others as we obey God’s commandments of loving God, and loving God through our authentic practical love of other even when we don’t feel like it.

 

[Trishie]

scborromeo.org/ccc/p4s1c3a2.htm

This page of the Catechism of the Catholic Church could be helpful regard your prayer frustrations.

God bless you abundantly

 

[bardegaulois]

Thanks for the reality check, Trishie. I’m a little saner this evening–or at the very least somewhat less trapped in the mental labyrinth. It’s sometimes most helpful not to think–and if prayer and meditation lead to too much thought, to take a walk in the brisk autumn air and look at the leaves. If we can’t at all see the beauty of God at times, perhaps we can at least have a sense of it vicariously through the beauty of His creation, I suppose.

After all, doesn’t everyone have their ego pulverized at least once in their lives? And do I have the hubris to think that my story won’t end differently? And so the mind then fills with questions, questions that won’t be answered and perhaps shouldn’t be answered. I’ve known far too many who’ve carried on after a tragedy seemingly kind, even pleasant, but privately, full of resentment–only with enough stoic self-control to fulfill their duties in life. They’ve always been men, and they’ve never quite been happy–even those of them who’ve sacrificed from their bounty for the sake of others. We could call it love, but it’s never brought these men joy. Not that it necessarily has to; it’s a duty enjoined upon us, perhaps with little inner content. Perhaps then also, it’s not really love, but just a strange sort of altruism or benevolence. I’m reminded of Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, and also of Kierkegaard’s very life itself.

What vexes me, perhaps, is this lack of inner content to it all. Certainly I can have a sort of theological understanding of divine Love and of our participation in and response to it. When it comes to experience, when it comes to application, when it comes to my day-to-day life, I just have to admit that I have absolutely no idea what this means.