I used to believe that my religion caused me to be unrealistically disciplined and separated from the world. In my mind, in fact, "religion" was a word with strong negative connotations, something wholly separate from the word "faith." To me, religion was mechanical in nature, that hollow practice of denying yourself certain things-- not because of a changed heart, brought about by a personal and loving God-- but out of duty. The god of religion, to me, ordered you to be something without telling you why; while the God of faith freed you, changed you for the better, and welled up in you a desire to be more like him. The god of religion was like any other god: impersonal, demanding, and untouchable. Because of the way I felt my life was going (specifically in my late teens and early twenties), I tended to be ashamed of my faith, because it wasn't genuine.
Indeed it wasn't. My belief system was neither informed nor tempered by the stabilizing presence of friends and fellow believers. Instead, I lived out my own version of Christianity, one that seemed to me very much like that of the monks of ancient Christendom (I'm exaggerating some). I'm learning, however, that this tendency to deny yourself, while still a very spiritual thing, is not just "religious," but very, very human.
Before monks ever became associated with the word "ascetic" ("someone who abstains from the normal pleasures of life"), in fact, and long before I grew to practice my own (often skewed) belief system, men and women were denying themselves for things ostensibly separate from any religion. I am convinced, in fact, that men like Epicurus-- who held that a person should deny bodily pleasures-- still influence our worldviews today. Given the extremes to which they would go to be prepared for war, however, a more telling example of this asceticism was the Spartan soldier. Hopefully, the following illustration of the Spartan life will show that asceticism was present before the Christian church came into formal being.
From birth, a Spartan was expected to be strong. To test the child’s strength, the mother would bathe it in wine. If the child survived, he or she was taken to the tribal leaders to determine whether or not it was strong enough to be raised. If it was not, the child would be left to die on a mountain called Apothetae, “the Place of Rejection.” If it was, it would be raised until age seven, when a male child entered the military.
While in the military, the child could expect only the most basic and difficult living arrangements. These children were required to endure, for example, an event called the “gauntlet,” in which they would run around older children and be flogged (sometimes to death). Since they slept in the open, wearing only light clothing, they would sometimes put thistles in their palettes because the prickling feeling made them feel warmer. After leaving this military school, some of these soldiers were sent with nothing into the country to survive on their own. It was only after this, at age twenty, that the Spartan became a soldier in a group called the “syssitia.” He lived in the same barracks, ate with, and relied on the other soldiers, with very few comforts. He was encouraged to marry, but could not live with his wife until age thirty. These soldiers purposely stayed away from luxury, fine foods, and leisure, because they wanted to remain disciplined and devoted to the state. Their legacy has become so famous, in fact that we use the word “Spartan” today to describe someone who lives with great discipline and simplicity.
This is just one example of extra-religious asceticism, but it is enough for me to see that devotion and worship are very human characteristics. The target of that devotion, I'm finding, will determine-- as it did with me-- a person's attitude toward others and toward himself. In short, what you worship is what you become.
Indeed it wasn't. My belief system was neither informed nor tempered by the stabilizing presence of friends and fellow believers. Instead, I lived out my own version of Christianity, one that seemed to me very much like that of the monks of ancient Christendom (I'm exaggerating some). I'm learning, however, that this tendency to deny yourself, while still a very spiritual thing, is not just "religious," but very, very human.
Before monks ever became associated with the word "ascetic" ("someone who abstains from the normal pleasures of life"), in fact, and long before I grew to practice my own (often skewed) belief system, men and women were denying themselves for things ostensibly separate from any religion. I am convinced, in fact, that men like Epicurus-- who held that a person should deny bodily pleasures-- still influence our worldviews today. Given the extremes to which they would go to be prepared for war, however, a more telling example of this asceticism was the Spartan soldier. Hopefully, the following illustration of the Spartan life will show that asceticism was present before the Christian church came into formal being.
From birth, a Spartan was expected to be strong. To test the child’s strength, the mother would bathe it in wine. If the child survived, he or she was taken to the tribal leaders to determine whether or not it was strong enough to be raised. If it was not, the child would be left to die on a mountain called Apothetae, “the Place of Rejection.” If it was, it would be raised until age seven, when a male child entered the military.
While in the military, the child could expect only the most basic and difficult living arrangements. These children were required to endure, for example, an event called the “gauntlet,” in which they would run around older children and be flogged (sometimes to death). Since they slept in the open, wearing only light clothing, they would sometimes put thistles in their palettes because the prickling feeling made them feel warmer. After leaving this military school, some of these soldiers were sent with nothing into the country to survive on their own. It was only after this, at age twenty, that the Spartan became a soldier in a group called the “syssitia.” He lived in the same barracks, ate with, and relied on the other soldiers, with very few comforts. He was encouraged to marry, but could not live with his wife until age thirty. These soldiers purposely stayed away from luxury, fine foods, and leisure, because they wanted to remain disciplined and devoted to the state. Their legacy has become so famous, in fact that we use the word “Spartan” today to describe someone who lives with great discipline and simplicity.
This is just one example of extra-religious asceticism, but it is enough for me to see that devotion and worship are very human characteristics. The target of that devotion, I'm finding, will determine-- as it did with me-- a person's attitude toward others and toward himself. In short, what you worship is what you become.
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