a fascination with monks

What even is a habitus?

I don’t really know when my interest in monks and habits and hermits began. I lost myself down a rabbit hole once when I learned about Simeon Stylites. He was an odd character who apparently decided that the way to spend his life was on a platform on a pillar so he could get time to pray. It makes sense why he would find himself kicked out of the monastery he joined when he was a teenager.

Along with him—because I’m a Protestant Evangelical (that is probably a letter for another time…)—I enjoyed learning about Martin Luther. Brennan Manning’s writing sent me looking at the Franciscans.

At its deepest part, what I am after is a life of prayer. What these above had in common was that they were able to pursue a life of prayer without regard for anything else.

What is clear, as a husband and father with four children and a small church to lead, a life of prayer without regard for anything else is not an option. And to be honest, there are big aspects of monastic life that don’t line up with the call of the Christian (like retreat from society). Even so, they serve as a starting point.

That life can be focused on prayer in this way means that I can pray more. I can meditate on Scripture more. As my example, I am inspired by the writing of both Harold Senkbeil and Eugene Peterson.

Habitus

Senkbeil’s book, The Care of Souls, speaks of the process of acquiring a habitus. It’s a process of becoming habituated to the work of being a pastor. Of practicing the skills that are necessary for the shepherding of souls. Because of his upbringing on Minnesota farms, his examples are agricultural. He writes of his father’s habitus as a farmer. He acquired it from his upbringing. He was raised in the care of livestock and in animal husbandry.

More specifically, it is something that can only happen by way of process. There is no other way around it. You cannot buy one. There are no shortcuts. As in art, it is a case of trusting a process that doesn’t seem like it will go anywhere.

And yet, a child learns to walk by learning to crawl. And to crawl, must learn to sit up without help. And to sit, to hold up one’s head.

One of the purposes for this writing project, of writing The Habitus is to have a place to think in public about this process. What changes come from simply spending time in prayer and meditation? The other is to share what comes from time in the study. John Piper quotes Acts 20:35 when he says the main reason why he reads is so that he can share what he has received.

That is where Senkbeil serves as an inspiration for me in doing this. Now to Peterson.

Askesis

During my ministry apprenticeship, my mentor recommended that I read Eugene Peterson’s ministry trilogy. I bought all of them but, as of this writing, have only managed to read Under The Unpredictable Plant.

The story of Jonah is a perplexing one in Scripture. It is a narrative about a prophet rather than being primarily about the prophet’s message. I’ve heard it used as an argument against racism, as an argument against withholding the gospel from many, and also a warning against the sin of presumption.

Peterson takes a strange approach by holding up the example of a terribly angry minister and showing what is needed for a lifetime in ministry. That his own ministry lasted over 50 years without some horrible controversy tells me that he is someone worth reading for help in ministry.

Referencing Jonah’s very strange prayer (for it is a very strange prayer in context), Peterson considers the idea of a monastery without walls. That is to say, the life of a pastor truly is supposed to be a life of prayer. What is necessary, he says, is:

an imagination large enough to contain all of life, all worship and work as prayer, set in a structure (askesis) adequate to the actual conditions in which it is lived out.

And so my question is how can I go about structuring my daily rhythms and my own thoughts about prayer to turn my daily life into one of prayer? How can I create a situation in which the very act of prayer feels as ever present as breathing?

How can I do so in a way that encourages and feeds the people in my care?

That is what I hope to explore here.