To the Desert
Leaving Substack on the path to obscurity
Much of the little we know about the life of St. Benedict comes from The Dialogues of St. Gregory the Great. St. Benedict’s story begins with his departure from a decadent and decaying Rome and his pursuit of the Lord in the solitude of Subiaco. Pope Benedict XVI describes this time in St. Benedict’s life as follows:
The period in Subiaco, a time of solitude with God, was a time of maturation for Benedict. It was here that he bore and overcame the three fundamental temptations of every human being: the temptation of self-affirmation and the desire to put oneself at the centre, the temptation of sensuality and, lastly, the temptation of anger and revenge. In fact, Benedict was convinced that only after overcoming these temptations would he be able to say a useful word to others about their own situations of neediness. Thus, having tranquilized his soul, he could be in full control of the drive of his ego and thus create peace around him.1
I’ve been on my own Benedictine journey in recent years. It’s been an obscure one (both interiorly and “professionally”), and one that is progressing toward becoming an oblate of the Monastery of the Holy Cross in Chicago, Illinois.2 As I consider the life of St. Benedict and ways it might inspire my own life, I must consider areas of decadent and dissonant noise and the resultant interior discord. Substack has become one of these areas in my life.
To be honest, I spend little time on the Substack interface. But, it doesn’t take much blather served up algorithmically to feed one’s thoughts for a long time. As Substack looks more and more like any other faddish social media platform, I find the rants of writers annoying, even if they are supposedly more sophisticated just because they’re on Substack. All of it sticks to my brain like coal dust, fueling a kind of riled-up interior life.
I don’t intend to monetize my writing and I don’t write to gain subscribers or to get likes or clicks or email opens. In fact, I despise clickbait so much that I intentionally craft uninteresting titles for my posts. In many ways, I write for myself, as a way of thinking through things and gaining wisdom. I also write because it seems to be a response to some sort of call I’ve sensed since I was about 18. I make my writing available not because I think it’s earth-shattering or even because I think I have something to say that the world needs to hear — there’s too much noise as it is — but simply with the prayer that my writing will convey the truth beautifully and reach the person it needs to reach, if it needs to reach anyone at all. This is the case for all of my writing, whether it’s in a book, on a blog, or in the church bulletin.
I don’t need Substack and all its noise. So, I’m moving my writing to a simple WordPress blog. This will eliminate some noise for me, and maybe for my readers, too. I know enough about WordPress to be dangerous, but probably not enough to have a perfectly smooth transition. I’m assuming you, my subscribers will want to stay with me, so I’ll bring you over to the new platform. You are always welcome to unsubscribe if my work is just becoming more clutter in your inbox or in your mind. Rather than send an email every time I post (which feels transactional and sometimes overwhelming), I plan to send just one email a month. It will be a digest of sorts. It will also allow me to address my subscribers more personally and provide more context for the posts. And, it will cut down on noise — at least it will be less email in your inbox. Of course, anyone can check the website (bradbursa.com) at any time.
I will transition to WordPress over the next week, after ironing out a few technical details.
Moving forward, I am discerning two book-length projects. One of these will likely look deeply into manner in which cracks in Catholic theology contributed to today’s secular culture, a project that will require excavating about a thousand years of history. I’ll probably take Vatican II as my entry point. Enigmatic enough for you? The second project will explore the evangelistic power of apparent failure — a fitting topic for a melancholic evangelist. So, my posts may reflect the topics I’ll be exploring. This said, more often than not, my posts will reflect the monastic journey I’m on — living the spirit (and some practices) of monasticism in the world, processing that experience in writing, and sharing what I’m learning with whomever finds it helpful.
It’s been a good couple of years on Substack, but it’s time to flee the cluttered interface and retreat to the solitude of a digital Subiaco. It’s time to renounce the self-affirmation perpetuated by social media platforms, the sensationalism revealed with each scroll, and the wrathful notes and posts that wreak havoc on my interior peace and make me angry and discouraged. Maybe after renouncing such online temptations, I’ll be more capable of saying something useful and cultivating peace through the written word.
Benedict XVI, General Audience, April 9, 2008.
Recently, my wife and I were invested as oblate novices, thus initiating an intensive year of formation and discernment. I will likely write further about the meaning of oblation and our discernment in future posts, but only if I feel it will be helpful to me and my readers.