Fighting poverty until it hurts
Americans could learn a thing or two from the selfless focus of Catholics monks and nuns
In the ongoing debate over income inequality, there’s one thing seemingly everyone can agree on: Helping the poor is someone else’s responsibility. Liberals want the government to help the poor by taxing the rich; conservatives want the poor to help themselves, with private charities assisting when necessary.
A similarly fruitless debate plays out among religious groups, even as both sides claim moral authority for their views. Some, such as Sojourners magazine editor Jim Wallis and the religious leaders who carried a golden calf (symbolizing the idolatry of wealth) through Manhattan as part of the “Occupy” movement, focus on condemning greed and achieving social justice. Others, such as First Things Web editor Joe Carter, argue that concern about income inequality is itself a form of greed.
They’re arguing over how to put out the fire while the house burns to the ground. In 2010, 1.6 million U.S. children were homeless, and more than 15% of Americans lived below the poverty line. The unemployment rate has not dipped below 8% in the past three years. Wealthy politicians bicker and point fingers while the national debt balloons, threatening the long-term viability of the social safety net.
Lifelong missions
Meanwhile, hidden from the public eye are a few people striving to live out St. Paul’s “more excellent way” of love. They don’t argue about poverty; they try to alleviate it. They’ve dropped out of the rat race, given up their possessions and taken new names.
They’re Catholic monks and nuns.
And while their commitment might seem radical, they could offer all of us — faithful and secular alike — a few timely lessons about devotion, generosity and genuine freedom.
Their primary inspiration for both living in poverty and serving the poor is, of course, Jesus Christ. “Christ embraced poverty,” says Father Richard Roemer, a priest and Franciscan friar in the Bronx, N.Y., where his monastic order runs homeless shelters, food pantries and medical clinics. Indeed, Roemer notes, Jesus mysteriously proclaimed that “the poor in spirit” are “blessed.”
Elsewhere in the New Testament are Christ’s famous words to a rich young man: “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor . . . and come, follow me.”
The passage has inspired religious communities since the first centuries of Christianity to take a vow of poverty, putting aside extraneous things and sharing their basic goods. Today, it means giving up personal bank accounts, cars, computers, cellphones, and the like. Most people would wince at the prospect of giving up those things for a day, let alone a lifetime. For religious orders, however, the sacrifice is not a burden but a form of freedom. If you’re free from materialistic distractions and narcissism, you can open yourself up to a loving God — and to your neighbors.
“Once we have things, we want to protect them, and we also can get used to satisfying our desires in a way that we don’t get to the bottom of our root desire for God,” says Father Peter Funk of the Benedictine Monastery of the Holy Cross in Chicago. His order focuses on prayer and contemplation and runs a bed-and-breakfast.
The vow of poverty also entails rejecting the concept of self-reliance. Instead of earning money in individual careers, most monks and nuns rely on each other and benefactors for support, trusting God will work out the rest. This means recognizing that “everything that’s being provided for me is really from the providence of God,” says Sister Giovanna Mariae Pearson, adding that generosity to the poor flows naturally from such a lifestyle. She’s a member of the Sisters of Life, an order in New York that helps pregnant women in need.
Opening up your heart
Though it’s difficult to separate politics from social policy, party affiliation is irrelevant to people wondering how to feed their kids or pay their health care bills.
Americans have justifiably low expectations of the government’s ability to solve the world’s problems. But individuals can still open up their wallets and their hearts to feed the hungry, clothe the naked and think of others rather than just themselves. So how can we do this better?
As monks and nuns are the first to admit, the literal vow of poverty is not for everyone. But everyone can learn from it.
Attributing his advice to St. Gregory the Great, Father Richard puts it succinctly: “Don’t let what you own, own you.” Sister Giovanna cites Mother Teresa’s encouragement to “give until it hurts.” “We’re supposed to stretch our hearts a little bit, to be open to giving even if it hurts,” she says. “Because that’s the test of love.”
It’s not always pleasant, in other words; self-denial doesn’t come naturally. Nevertheless, the work of religious orders offers greater relief to a broken society than any brand of political action. And if growing communities of “new monastics” are any indicator, the wider Christian world is beginning to agree.