On Social Justice: The “Basil Option”

A review of Popular Patristics Series: On Social Justice (St Basil the Great; SVS Press, Crestwood, NY, 2009; translated by C Paul Schroeder.)

Several years ago, Rod Dreher, a popular columnist, came up with an idea which he later expanded into a book called the Benedict Option (AKA Benop, for short).

Coming as it did, years after the forced ouster of Pope Benedict XVI (possibly the West’s last, best hope for revival), it struck a nerve among many Christians, Orthodox included (Dreher is an Orthodox writer).

For Dreher, and many others, survival, not revival, is now the only hope.  To be a pious, law-abiding person under our present circumstances is an invitation to victim-hood. In many ways, both big and small, the cards are stacked against all law abiding American citizens who just want to “have a nice day”.  The game is rigged.  I don’t see that changing any time soon.  Indeed, I see it getting worse.

Frankly, that’s one of the reasons Dreher struck a nerve.  No one likes being stuck in a loop where their present circumstances are no longer working for them, but against them.  Although today’s challenges are not the same challenges faced in St Basil’s day, the old adage the more things change, the more they stay the same, remains frighteningly true.  

Where there are challenges, however, there are also solutions that promise to lift us out of the quicksand.  Segregation, the Benop, is one such path; however, it isn’t the only path.  Reciprocity, the “Basil Option”, is another path. And it has much to recommend it, as well.  

On Social Justice is a compilation of four homilies given by St Basil the Great, the Bishop of Caesarea. They constitute a worldview that arose because of a series of natural catastrophes which were set off by a massive earthquake in 369. As bad as the earthquake was, it was followed by a series of natural calamities, which included droughts where entire rivers dried up, resulting in massive famines. These catastrophes tested the faith of the people of Cappadocia and (dare I say?) Basil, himself.  So much so, that he became a stalwart shepherd, rolling up his sleeves, removing the rubble of their former lives.  

This book is a fascinating, well-researched read.  The “Introduction” (also by the translator) is an enjoyable history lesson and I highly recommend that one reads it before delving into the four homilies. That being said, the homilies in question serve as practical guides for addressing unpleasant realities that are seemingly beyond one’s control.  Together, they form a backdrop to Basil’s life and legacy, as outlined below.        

Basil, a “rich, young man” in his own right, received the finest education in Athens that money could buy. Upon graduation he traveled extensively, and while in Palestine, became familiar with the cenobitic (i.e. communal) life of the monks there. Upon his return to Cappadocia (specifically the city of Caesarea) in 356, he occupied a chair in rhetoric. The remembrances of monastic life caused stirrings within him, which the academic life was unable to assuage, and so, in 358, he returned to his family’s estate in the town of Anissa to set up a monastic community.

The community was funded by the sale of his share of his father’s estate. His mother and sister (the latter being the future St Macrina) had already established a woman’s community on the estate so he was venturing into sympathetic territory. The inspiration for both Basil and Macrina was the communitarian principle started by the Apostles as recorded in the Book of Acts. Basil decided to establish a community for men on the other side of the River Iris, which bordered his former estate.

Within fairly short order, the Annisa community grew. Because of its isolation, it became something of an idyll for both Basil and his comrades. Outside the community, economic and societal pressures were convulsing the Christian world, becoming harder and harder to ignore.  In time, these events conspired to prick the conscience of Basil,  prompting him to leave Annisa and return to Caesarea, where he was ordained to the priesthood in 365.

His seven-year monastic sojourn was, in many ways, a preparation for his subsequent ministry. If anything, it helped to shape his own world view and gave him the intellectual ammunition necessary to bring about social change. Basil was no dreamy-eyed mystic, however.  He saw the world clearly and was by no means a utopian. His homilies, “To the Rich”, “In Times of Famine and Drought”, “I Will Tear Down My Barns” and “Against Those Who Lend at Interest”, are just as timely today as they were seventeen hundred years ago. Surprisingly so. 

Basil castigates the rich, not because they were rich, but because of their greed. A vice which (in his mind) was based on exceeding that which was necessary for a comfortable life. “Why do need two ten suits when two will do?” would be a succinct way of putting it. “Holy Simplicity” would be another. It was not the material good that was wrong; it was its excess, a habit which violates the concept of the common good.

For Basil, the world was created to provide all that was necessary for every station in life. God’s creation was plentiful and thus any attempt to hoard wealth –or seek more than was necessary (if poor)–upset this balance. Simply put, the rich were to give their surpluses to the poor.  As Basil exhorted in, “I Will Tear Down My Barns”, anything else would be unsustainable: 

“If we all took only what was necessary to satisfy our own needs, giving the rest to those who lack, no one would be rich, no one would be poor, and no one would be in need.”

However, Basil knew that it took two to tango (so to speak) and, thus, he did not spare the poor in his sermons. His keen mind could see many of the poor were often in dire straits because of their own grasping nature, which made them easy marks for predatory lenders. He therefore exhorted the poor, as well to be content with their lot in life. To our modern sensibilities this may sound harsh, but he knew that if the poor were permitted to wallow in their despair, they would become even more vulnerable to that which kept them in an endless cycle of poverty:

“Now you are poor, but free. By borrowing, however, you will not become rich, and you will surrender your freedom. The borrower is a slave to the lender…Dogs become tame when you feed them, but when the creditor receives back what was borrowed, he becomes even more enraged. He does not stop his howling but on the contrary, demands even more. Although you swear you will pay, he does not believe you. He pries into your private affairs and inquires about your transactions. If you emerge from your house he seizes you and drags you away; if you hide yourself within, he stands outside and pounds at the door. He shames you before your spouse, treats you disgracefully in front of friends, seizes you by the throat in public places. Even a chance meeting at a festival is a disaster; he makes life unbearable.”

In Basil’s eyes, the narcissistic rich and the grasping poor are caught in an endless cycle of mutual loathing. And though the picture is bleak, it is not without hope.  If both lived a Christ-like existence, they could break free from this uncomfortable dance.  Hence, the exhortation for all to remain sober minded and focused on that which is truly needful.

These, of course, are blunt words. They are true as far as they go. However, the question remains: how does one put them into action?

First of all, as mentioned, it must be said that Basil had no problem with wealth per se. In the Gospel of Luke, two such episodes come to mind: the “rich young ruler” and Zacchaeus. It was the latter however who wanted to make restitution for his ill-gotten gains. The former young man, who (we must assume) was wealthy not through nefarious means, was “troubled” when Jesus told him to give up his wealth.

Realistically, in Basil’s eyes, free will, coupled with God’s order to dominate the earth through proper stewardship, made an unequal distribution of wealth inevitable. Even the poorest of the poor, possesses some wealth; it’s just that some have more than others. Therefore, Basil would never countenance any forced redistributive scheme akin to socialism (or worse, communism), as any violent measures taken to alleviate the suffering of the poor would only violate the law of love.

How then, to take advantage of this inevitable inequity and find a way to equalize outcomes, i.e. to “redistribute wealth” so that there is no excess on the one hand and need on the other? What is (if you will forgive me) the Basil Option?

Simply this: just as Basil had set up a monastic community near his former estate, he believed that other such communities should be established close to the towns and cities. These monasteries were to be a synthesis between traditional parochial life and strict monasticism. He mandated that monastics should do what they could to alleviate the lot of the poor in practical ways, like taking up trades and setting up xenodochia (hospices).

As for the “start-up capital” required to establish these monasteries, Basil expected the rich to give their fair share. They could do this by donating land or materiel, as well as monetary resources. And as per his sermonizing, they were to do so frequently. It behooved their souls to act in such Godlike fashion. On a practical level, it kept them safe from the criminality that would arise from those who were desperately poor. It not only upheld the law of love, but ensured the sustainability of the community.

The poor would benefit, as well.  They would learn gratitude as both rich and poor were to be in close proximity to each other. They would see their benefactors and pray for them. In time, the working poor could expect some relief from abject poverty, having the opportunity to achieve some success on their own.  They, too, would be in a position to give back to the community. The monastery, thus, became the engine of the local economy, allowing a redistribution and reallocation of resources that was rational and sufficient for the immediate locality.

Understandably, no economic system is perfect. Even the communitarian one established by the Apostles in Jerusalem was a miserable failure. The Basil Option, likewise, would suffer from the same deficiencies found in all voluntary endeavors.  It would be hard to see how it could work in an urban setting, where real estate values prohibit the acquisition of the land necessary for a modest monastery. However, for those who wished to retreat into an suburban/exurban commune where life centers around a life of prayer and sustainable agriculture, a monastic center could become an attractive solution to the status quo, where things are presently spinning out of control.

In any event, I highly recommend On Social Justice for your own edification. Each sermon stands on its own and if nothing else, you will possess four of the greatest homilies known to Christendom. And perhaps, goaded by his wise words, the consciences of Christians today can be pricked to explore new ways to live in a community.