A 21st-century Brotherhood seeks the spiritual life with gusto

Star Tribune
January 31, 2001
Katherine Kersten

In "The Closing of the American Mind," his 1987 bestseller, political philosopher Allan Bloom pointed out a paradox of contemporary life. In one sense, we Americans have more choices than ever, thanks to our affluence and technological know-how. But in a more profound sense, our choices seem increasingly restricted. There may be 50 kinds of coffee in the supermarket, but when it comes to philosophies of life -- alternative views of how best to live -- our culture is increasingly one-dimensional.
In America in 2001, the almighty Self is the measure of all things. For children, the Holy Grail is "self-esteem"; for adults, it is "self-actualization." Even countercultural icons like Gloria Steinem and the Rev. Jesse Jackson preach the gospel of "identity politics," insisting that the way to give our lives meaning is by organizing politically with people who look exactly like ourselves. The idea that life, first and foremost, is about exploring, adorning, asserting and fulfilling the Self is so pervasive we are hardly aware of the limitations it places on our moral imagination.

If Bloom were alive today, where might he look for an alternative vision of life? I suspect he would be intrigued by a group of young men who live together in a small house in St. Paul. Since I first encountered these men several years ago, I have viewed them as a reminder that -- even in today's culturally monochromatic world -- a radically different understanding of life is possible.

The men in question are a Christian group who call themselves the Brotherhood. At night, while many of us are sneaking a peek at "Temptation Island," these men are gathered in their living room, discussing the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola or biologist Kenneth Miller's "Finding Darwin's God." On weekends, while other young men are winding down at the local pub, they are likely to be clustered in a cabin with a gaggle of 15-year-olds, hashing over the challenges that teens face these days.

Now, many of us have fleeting impulses of selflessness once a week at a worship service, or perhaps every other Saturday when we volunteer at the local food shelf. But for members of the Brotherhood, the ideas of self-sacrifice and self-transcendence shape every moment of every day. The men live together, pooling their incomes and holding all things in common. They focus their lives not on material acquisition or personal ambitions, but on achieving spiritual maturity. Each takes a pledge to make this a lifelong task, and to support one another in their common dedication to "joyful service and simplicity of heart." For them, life is not about self- projection but about "dying to self," in a constant round of service, study, work and prayer.
 All this might bring to mind a community of monks -- complete with medieval robes and shorn pates -- who seek holiness by sealing themselves off from the world. The Brotherhood is anything but. Its members have chosen to live aggressively in the world, encountering its temptations and confronting its challenges. They look like what they are: teachers, coaches, bank employees or youth workers.
In the Brotherhood's view, the spiritual life can be lived with gusto. This is evident in the activities the group stages for young people, for whom they have a special concern. While Brotherhood members perform the usual work of youth ministry -- mentoring high school students and leading retreats, for example -- they also sponsor activities of a very different sort.

The Brotherhood leads arduous hiking trips in the Rockies, and organizes canoe trips. Some members also coach soccer or basketball. One of them explained the reasoning this way: "Physical challenges are a powerful accompaniment to a dedicated spiritual life. We give the boys a vision, like reaching the summit of the mountain or achieving excellence in soccer, and challenge them to overcome the desire to quit when things get really tough. Learning to push their bodies to the limit helps them in situations where their souls are pushed to the limit. We teach them that they can go beyond the physical expectations that human beings set for themselves, and then we challenge them to do the same with prayer and works of charity."

Those who meet the Brotherhood are generally struck by how bright, zealous and multitalented its members are. With their abilities, most could successfully climb the corporate ladder, reaping significant material rewards along the way. But they have chosen to seek their rewards elsewhere. As a result, they live outside the limelight, helping young men -- and each other -- to diligently address life's most serious questions.

Where do these men find the strength, and the template, for a life so different from the one our society holds up for emulation? Their profound religious faith provides a counterweight to the powerful allure of contemporary culture. The Brotherhood draws inspiration from the words of St. Paul's letter to the Galatians: "For you were called to freedom, brethren; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another."

The life of the Brotherhood is not for everyone; indeed, it is for very few. But in its outlines, we can discern the nature of the choice we generally forget we have. We need not buy into contemporary society's message that "finding" or "fulfilling" ourselves is, at bottom, what life's all about. If we're willing to start from different premises, we are likely to reach very different conclusions.

-Katherine Kersten is a director of the Center of the American Experiment in Minneapolis.