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For many souls, the experience of faith today has been marked by the rediscovery of ancient traditions that were once discarded in the name of alleged progress. This so-called “progress” has, in many ways, led to the loss of the richness and depth of our faith. This is particularly evident in areas such as liturgy, catechesis, and doctrine. While these areas are essential to restoring the fullness of the faith once given to the saints, they are not the only things that have been lost. There is one final element that has often been overlooked but is now being rediscovered by many who seek to radically live out the ancient Catholic faith in the modern world.
In St. Matthew’s Gospel, our Lord tells us, “From the days of John the Baptist until now, the Kingdom of Heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force.” (Matt. 11:12) Interpreted by the Fathers, this verse reveals a profound truth about the spiritual life: as Christians, we must aggressively take actions that go against our very nature. This fallen nature, revealed through concupiscence, must be confronted. While doctrine is crucial to knowing, loving, and serving Christ, it is not enough. It is through the holy struggle of mortification and asceticism that we “do violence” to our nature and take heaven by force.
St. Jerome explains,
Because John the Baptist was the first to preach repentance, saying, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,’ it can be rightly said that from that day forward the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force. For great is the violence when we, born of this world, seek a place in heaven and obtain by righteousness what we have not by nature (Catena Aurea).
The Catholic Encyclopedia tells us that the word asceticism comes from the Greek askesis, meaning practice, bodily exercise, and especially athletic training. Early Christians adopted it to refer to spiritual exercises performed to acquire the habits of virtue. St. Paul, too, discusses the spiritual battle in 1 Corinthians, using language related to the Greek pentathlon, particularly that of a race.
The vocation of marriage and by extension, parenthood offers unique opportunities for this “death to self,” purifying and sanctifying the souls of spouses. Through this vocation, souls can come to know Christ deeply, both intellectually and in the call to take up their crosses daily and follow Him by intentionally dying to their own will for the good of their family.
However, the married person’s participation in the ascetical life is fraught with temptations. One temptation is pride, which can lead someone to view ascetic practices as a means to an end. St. Jerome cautions a noble Roman matron named Celantia:
Be on your guard when you begin to mortify your body through abstinence and fasting, lest you imagine yourself to be perfect and a saint. Perfection does not consist in this virtue; it is only a help, a disposition, a means—though a fitting one—for the attainment of true perfection.
A more common temptation today is to think of these practices as something meant for another time or for another vocation, those not burdened with the responsibilities of marriage or parenthood. But this, too, is a mistake. St. John Chrysostom reminds us,
When Christ orders us to follow the narrow path, He addresses Himself to all. Monastics and lay people must attain the same heights… Those who live in the world, even if married, ought to resemble monks in everything else. You are entirely mistaken if you think there are things required of ordinary people that are not required of monks (Evdokimov, Ages of the Spiritual Life, 137).
While the monastics and desert fathers fought their battles in the sands, winds, and caves of Egypt and Syria, modern Christians in the West—bound by wedding rings of fidelity—fight their battles in living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, prayer corners, offices, cars, Church kneelers and dining rooms. These are the places where the modern married follower of Christ spiritually struggles and does violence to attain the Kingdom.
Many of the ascetical practices shared by both married and priestly vocations—such as fasting, abstinence, vigils, prostrations, interior prayer, simplicity of life, detachment from secular affairs, minimizing internet use, chastity, rejection of vanity, silence, and humility—have been cast aside. Meanwhile, the modern Church has failed to encourage her children to engage in deep spiritual struggles, and thus, the intensity of one’s zeal for Christ has been dulled. These practices are acts of repentance, driving Christians beyond intellectual understanding into tangible, bodily engagement with their faith.
However, our secular culture has rebranded many of these practices for the wrong reasons. Today, fasting is seen as a tool for fitness, cold showers as a way to boost circulation and endorphins, and detachment from technology as a means to calm the mind. For the traditional Catholic, these practices are meant to help a soul radically die to self, to regain control of the body and will, to reorient the passions, and ultimately to cultivate a deep, active desire to breathe only the breath of Christ. We fast, pray, and give—not for earthly purposes, but solely out of love for Him. This spirit of penance is summed up best by St Alphonsus Ligouri,
If we read the lives of the saints and see the works of penance that they performed, we shall be ashamed of the delicacy and of the reserve with which we chastise the flesh… Our pilgrimage on earth will not be of long duration: our home is eternity, where he who has practiced the greatest mortifications during life shall enjoy the greatest glory.
None of the subsequent actions are meant to undermine the principle spiritual asceticism and struggle of the Church historically, namely prayer and fasting. With the direction of a priest, a Prayer Rule and a routine fasting regiment that is difficult and able to be done with frequency is invaluable in a time where the entirety of faith has been largely been forgotten. Commenting on the tie between prayer and fasting, the great Cistercian St Bernard of Clairvaux states,
See how intimately fasting and prayer are joined, for it is written, Brother helps brother, and both shall be comforted (Proverbs 18:19). Prayer demands the virtue of fasting, and fasting earns the grace of prayer. Fasting strengthens prayer; prayer sanctifies fasting and offers it to the Lord. What profit do we get from fasting if it remains on earth—which God forbid! Let us lift up fasting, then, on the wing of prayer (St. Bernard’s Sermons for the Seasons Festivals of the Year).
As with the religious, so too the married person has unique practices that specifically challenge and counteract the sins associated with disordered control, pride, and self-centeredness. These practices are not meant to create the “perfect” or “happy” home, as secular culture may define it, but to form something much higher. For the zealous married couple, these exercises move them deeper into humility and self-sacrifice, cultivating a spirit of love and service. This allows them to become like Christ and truly die to self. The seemingly normal actions take on a supernatural intensity, driven by a unique, otherworldly aim.
One such practice is silence in the face of disagreements. Instead of asserting one’s opinion or engaging in angry words, spouses are called to embrace silence, giving space for reflection and avoiding rash or hurtful speech. This discipline tames pride, preventing the escalation of anger or resentment.
Another practice is the unrelenting willingness to serve: continuing to work for the good of the home, family, and spouse even when fatigued or unappreciated, without complaint. This act of self-denial directly combats the temptation to seek recognition or indulge in laziness. It fosters selflessness and contributes to a home where each member witnesses the other die to self repeatedly, all while seeking to see Christ in the struggle.
Publicly apologizing is another practice that works against the pride that often hinders reconciliation. Humbly acknowledging one’s mistakes and seeking forgiveness not only restores harmony but also cultivates humility. It embodies the grace of Christ in marital relationships, breaking down the walls that sin erects.
Forgiving without conditions or holding grudges is a powerful discipline. Choosing to forgive, even before the other person apologizes, challenges self-righteousness and resentment, requiring courage and grace to let go of the desire for justice or retaliation, trusting in God’s mercy.
Lastly, guarding one’s thoughts, resisting the temptation to entertain negative or critical thoughts about one’s spouse is another essential ascetical practice. By practicing charity in thought and focusing on the good qualities of one’s spouse, we foster love and unity, even in difficult times.
These practices serve as powerful ways in which the married person battles against their nature. These acts invite the couple into a deeper relationship with God by confronting pride, control, and selfishness, transforming marriage into a true reflection of sacrificial love.
Joyful sorrow, the outcome of asceticism, penance, and repentance, is not about seeking pain or humiliation for its own sake. Rather, it is about a deeper hunger for that which truly satisfies. We are called to become like Christ in all things: silent, selfless, humble, merciful, and sharing in His supernatural love. This love can only be obtained through grace and through a hostile struggle against our passions and nature.
The struggle that leads to a death to this world was spoken of by St. Isaac the Syrian:
Someone has said of the Saints that while alive they were dead; for though living in the flesh, they did not live for the flesh. See for which of these passions you are alive. Then you will know how far you are alive to the world, and how far you are dead to it (St. Isaac the Syrian, Ascetical Homilies, Homily 2, quoted in The Arena).
In the Ladder of Divine Ascent, St. John Climacus presents an important reflection on the internal struggle we face:
What is the mystery in me? What is the meaning of this blending of body and soul? How am I constituted a friend and foe to myself? Tell me, tell me, my yoke-fellow, my nature, for I shall not ask anyone else in order to learn about you. How am I to remain unwounded by you? How can I avoid the danger of my nature? For I have already made a vow to Christ to wage war against you. How am I to overcome your tyranny? For I am resolved to be your master.
This internal conflict, where we wrestle with our own nature, is a central theme in the ascetic path. It is the struggle to overcome the tyranny of our passions and to make them subject to Christ.
For those of us striving to master our passions and practice asceticism out of love for God, we need look no further than our own spouses to find the altar of our own priesthood. In marriage, we are called to sacrifice everything, to continuously die to self, and to pursue the reign of Christ in our hearts. It is through this sacrificial love that we attain the “violent taking of the Kingdom of Heaven.”
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