SPIRIT JUICE // FRATE ASINO

Discipline Without Destruction

  "Brother Ass," fully equipped and ready for the mission while maintaining its role as a sturdy, valued partner on patrol.

St. Francis of Assisi had a rather colorful way of talking about the human body.

He called it Frate Asino

Better known as:

"Brother Ass."

Not exactly the sort of nickname you'd find embroidered on a monastery throw pillow.

But Francis was making a serious point.

The body is stubborn.

It gets hungry.

It gets tired.

It wants comfort.

It wants another hour of sleep.

It wants the easier road.

It occasionally behaves like a highly motivated subordinate who has somehow misplaced the mission briefing.

Brother Ass.

And Francis knew that the spiritual life requires discipline.

Sometimes the body needs to be told:

"Negative. We're getting up."

That's where fasting, sacrifice, physical discipline, prayer, silence, and self-denial can become powerful tools.

But here's where the mission gets interesting.

Brother Ass isn't the enemy.

He's your brother.

And you don't destroy a brother because he's difficult.

You train him.

There's a difference.

The Christian life isn't about declaring war on the body because the body is somehow evil. The body is part of God's creation. In fact, St. Paul gives us the astonishing designation:

"Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit."—1 Corinthians 6:19

Think about that.

Temple.

Not trash.

Not disposable equipment.

Not something to punish because we're angry with ourselves.

Temple.

So we've got two truths that have to remain locked together:

Discipline the body.

Honor the body.

And if you separate them, you've got a problem.

Without discipline, Brother Ass takes over the command deck.

Without charity toward the body, discipline can become its own form of pride.

Suddenly we're no longer practicing self-mastery.

We're trying to prove something.

And that's when the spiritual exercise can quietly become another version of the very thing we're trying to escape:

EGO

"Look how tough I am."

"Look how little I need."

"Look how much I can endure."

Careful, Soldier.

That's a booby trap.

The goal isn't to become a man who can punish himself the most.

The goal is to become a man who can freely choose The Good.

That's temperance.

That's mastery.

That's freedom.

Sometimes the most heroic thing you can do is fast.

Sometimes it's get off the couch.

Sometimes it's endure discomfort instead of immediately satisfying an appetite.

And sometimes?

It's eat the meal.

Get some sleep.

Recover.

See the doctor.

Take the day off.

Drink some water.

Because Brother Ass may be stubborn, but he's still carrying the operator.

You don't run a Humvee without maintaining the engine.

You don't send a soldier into battle with a shredded boot and call it fortitude.

And you don't glorify exhaustion simply because you're afraid that rest looks like weakness.

Even machines require maintenance, People.

The objective is not to break the body.

The objective is to bring the whole man into alignment:

Body under reason.Reason illuminated by faith.Will surrendered to God.Strength placed at the service of love.

That's the mission.

So train Brother Ass.

Absolutely.

Put him on the road.

Make him carry the pack.

Teach him that every appetite doesn't get a vote.

But don't hate him.

Don't abuse him.

Don't worship him, either.

Lead him.

Because the mature Christian doesn't become less embodied.

He becomes more integrated.

He learns that the same body capable of craving comfort can kneel in prayer.

The same hands that work can serve.

The same back that carries burdens can embrace a child.

The same mouth that wants pleasure can speak forgiveness.

The same physical strength that could dominate another man can instead protect him.

That's the transformation.

Brother Ass doesn't need to be killed.

He needs to be consecrated.

And that's the beautiful Christian paradox:

We don't escape the body on the way to God.

We learn to offer the whole body to Him.

So tonight, when Brother Ass starts complaining about the mission conditions, look him square in the eye.

Tell him:

"I know, buddy. But we're not going back to Egypt."

Then give him what he actually needs.

Discipline when he demands slavery.

Rest when he needs restoration.

Sacrifice when comfort has become master.

And gratitude always.

Because the objective isn't a broken body.

The objective is a free man.

A disciplined man.

A grateful man.

A man whose body has become an instrument of love rather than a master of his will.

Now saddle up, Citizen.

Brother Ass is going on patrol.

This theme, along with a discussion of what it takes to "be prepared" when we know we have to "go against the grain," is explored in my new book, The Anatomy of the Sellout, available on Amazon.