The Monastic Call: Should You Trade Your Smartphone for a Sandal?
Let’s face it—most of us have had at least one wild impulsive moment, perhaps after a particularly noisy music festival, a long day wrangling farm animals at Monk Park Farm, or watching a wooden monk statue collapse under the weight of civic neglect, where we sighed and wondered: “Wouldn’t life be simpler if I became a monk?” Trading the stressful hustle of modern adulthood for serene contemplation sounds magical. But before you start sewing your own robe from the remains of garden gnomes, let’s humorously examine what it would really mean to embark on this joyous—or possibly ill-advised—journey into monkhood.
Mythbusting and Monk-Making: What Does It Take?
First up, is there a rulebook? Do you need a Hogwarts letter to get into a monastery, or is there an audition process like Big Brother, with Simon Catterall presiding over your vow-taking? Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to sprout a long beard or become fluent in Gregorian chant overnight. Becoming a monk is less about checking mystical boxes and more about commitment to spiritual growth, willing embrace of community (and probably, these days, commitment to social distancing).
According to Fr. John Gavin, S.J., the journey into spiritual maturity—the stuff real monks are made of—is about growing into what the Church Fathers call the fullness of human nature through grace, virtue, and vocation. In non-theological terms: it’s about adulting, but with extra meditation and less caffeine. You don’t have to be perfect (teleios, for you Greek scholars), but you do have to be committed. In fact, one does not need to become a monk to demonstrate Christian maturity, as John Chrysostom kindly reminds us—the centurion Cornelius is exemplary for us all, whether we’re shoveling animal manure at Monk Park Farm, running “mini-Glastonbury” festivals, or simply wrestling with life’s loud distractions.
The Great Monk Park Farm Dilemma
Now, speaking of distractions, what if your local “monastery” is more akin to a farm that moonlights as a concert venue? Monk Park Farm, near Thirsk, provides a cautionary tale. With a new license permitting music, dancing, and strolling about with cider in hand, villagers fear their quiet petting zoo will evolve into an unholy fusion of cow cuddling and Taylor Swift tributes. If you seek silence and solitude, this might not be the monastery for you. But if you’ve ever dreamed of chanting hymns over a mobile stage or shepherding holiday makers to spiritual enlightenment via a converted caravan bar, maybe it’s time to rethink what monastic life means in the 21st century.
Local resistance, however, is fierce. Residents object to the idea of all-day dancing and adult beverages, lamenting the loss of peace in “James Herriot country.” Their opposition is proof that yearning for monastic silence is alive and well, though perhaps with a dash of irony—imagine arguing for silence with a megaphone during pig racing.
Of Collapsing Wooden Monks and Lasting Legacies
Still not convinced? Let’s consider the fate of Abingdon’s legendary wooden monk statue, once a cheerful roadside landmark and now a “bug hotel” following its collapse due to rot. Its transformation is symbolic—physical things age, but spiritual significance endures. The statue was first a mascot for town pride; now it’s a habitat for insects, quietly providing for nature. Let this be a lesson: your monastic path doesn’t require standing on a roundabout attracting photo opportunities—sometimes being a monk means, quite literally, being content with letting purpose quietly change forms. If you can handle going from center stage to bug concierge with grace, you’re halfway there.
Monk or Not, Spiritual Maturity Is the Real Aim
So, what does the actual application process look like? Forget complicated paperwork and interviews—most monastic communities ask for sincerity, openness, and (ideally) the ability to handle bland porridge. Life in a monastery involves spiritual discipline, community living, daily prayer, and perhaps less Netflix than you currently enjoy. Yet, as Fr. Gavin quips, the real journey is not escaping daily life but transforming it—making everything, even your least favorite chores, an act of love and contemplation.
Importantly, not everyone called to spiritual maturity ends up in a robe. The world needs mature Christians everywhere—with or without vows of silence or vows avoiding Wi-Fi. Teachers, parents, even pig race commentators can demonstrate virtues that monks strive for. Spiritual maturity, then, is a vocation available to all willing to grow, serve, and occasionally laugh at themselves.
Can I Become a Monk and Still Use Monk Fruit Sweetener?
A modern quandary: does going monastic mean giving up your favorite zero-calorie sweeteners? Monk fruit, ironically, may be more common in your pantry than your monastery. While it’s gaining fame as a healthier sugar alternative, it won’t earn you enlightenment or shave hours off your contemplation practice. But like the best advice, moderation is monkish. Sweeten your tea as a humble novice, but don’t expect mogrosides to confer wisdom. (Ask permission from your abbot before hosting bake-offs in the cloister!)
Reality TV Monks and Modern-Day Fame
Is monkhood like Big Brother, where you’re voted off for failing bedtime prayers or not sweeping the cloister fast enough? Some would argue that seeking spiritual maturity is the opposite of reality television—there’s much less evicting and significantly fewer confetti cannons. While Caroline Monk and Nancy Nocerino fret about double evictions, monks focus instead on inner transformation, not who survived Guy Fawkes night.
While Art Monk retires his jersey, monastic hopefuls retire their expectations of glory. Fans of loud applause might want to reconsider; monks win at silence, not at popularity contests.
A Monk Who Bridged Nations—and Other Alternative Monastic Paths
True monastic impact doesn’t require seclusion. Consider the inspiring legacy of Bhadant Gyaneshwar, a monk who dedicated himself to serving migrant workers across nations, bridging cultures and offering compassion. His example proves that monkhood, at its heart, is service—a life lived for others, whether on a dusty pilgrimage or in a brightly lit urban community. No matter how your journey looks, every act of kindness, each step toward unity and peace, echoes the ancient wisdom of monastic tradition.
Your Path to Monkhood: Is It for You?
So, can you become a monk? Absolutely—if you’re ready to trade ego for humility, and maybe swap late-night texting for early morning chanting. Yet, as every wise abbot (and occasionally, a council licensing committee) will remind you, monkhood is just one way among many to deepen your spiritual life. The real question isn’t “can I become a monk?” but “how can I become more fully myself—wise, loving, mature—in whatever robe or role I wear?”
And if your local park offers a license for 5,000 guests, pig racing, and a tribute band, remember: true monks keep their hearts serene, even when serenaded by covers of “Shake It Off”.
Final Thoughts: To Monk or Not To Monk?
Ultimately, if you yearn for tranquility—if bug hotels and wooden statues speak more to you than TikTok feeds—the monastic road may be worth a shot. Just remember: becoming a monk isn’t about escaping life’s chaos, but learning to meet it with a grin, a prayer, and maybe, sometimes, a philosophical chat with a passing sheep.
So, breathe deep, contemplate your options, and perhaps—go forth and bug (hotel) your local monk!
