Carving out the Householder Path

Of the many excellent meditation teachers with whom I have studied, Paul Muller Ortega is unique in one important respect: he is very explicit about distinguishing between renunciate and householder spiritual paths. Paul speaks very respectfully of each path but emphasized that for the vast majority of us who wish to live life as householders, it is essential to be clear about the distinction between these two trajectories and to consciously choose a householder approach to one’s sadhana (spiritual practice), if this is in fact how one intends to live one’s life, outside of the particular container of a monastic setting. If not, confusion and disorientation will inevitably arise. 

If you’re unfamiliar with these terms, that’s completely understandable, as modern practitioners of meditation or yoga don’t hear much mention of these concepts. A renunciate is a monastic or a wandering yogi, but whether one is in a monastery or not, the traditional use of the term “renunciate” references the fact that such a person has “renounced the world.” If you’re not from Asia or familiar with Asian religious traditions, this concept can be difficult to grasp, as Western societies do not generally carve out a socially respected place for those who wish to pursue contemplative excellence (i.e. to train their own mind, or to otherwise dedicate their lives to spiritual pursuits). 

Householders are people who wish to “live in the world.” Householder life could look very different, from being married with kids, with a full-time job and a mortgage, to living a very quiet contemplative life by oneself that entails practicing many hours of meditation and yoga a day. While the range between these two lifestyles may be great, a householder will inevitably orient themselves to the spiritual path in a different way than a renunciate. 

To pick one example, the way that one relates to desire will certainly be different. While renunciation can be a skillful means for a householder in many respects and in certain contexts, a householder must learn to consciously work with desire: to use one’s desire to gain deeper insight into and ultimate liberation from attachments, rather than relying on renunciation as the method for working with one’s desires and attachments. 

Overwhelmingly, modern practitioners of meditation and yoga have inherited teachings, practices, and views from contemplative systems that were designed for renunciates.

Why? 

One reason is obvious: renunciates are essentially professional meditators. They organize themselves into institutions to refine and spread the teachings. This is actually the function of these institutions: to propagate, to expand. 

Householder traditions, not surprisingly, have not been as prominent nor as successful as propagating themselves because they don’t organize themselves into organizations akin to monasteries that are committed to such projects.

It’s important to briefly underscore that I think the relationship between monastics and householders should not be one of conflict, but of symbiosis. I have indescribably immense gratitude for the lineages and individuals who have created, refined, and passed along these teachings over the years. As a household practitioner, I want part of my work to go towards better supporting monastics. I also think that being a monastic or professional contemplative is an incredibly meaningful way to live one’s life, and if anyone feels called to do so then that’s wonderful. 

However, the reality is that few people, in the grand scheme of things, are well suited for such a renunciate path. 

How is this practically relevant for modern practitioners of meditation and yoga? On the one hand, it makes a ton of sense to learn something from people who are exceptionally well trained in it (the Malcolm Gladwell Outliers principle: 10,000 hours). In this sense, many monastics would naturally fit the bill. 

However, when you get involved with a spiritual tradition, you’re learning much more than a technique; you’re imbibing an entire worldview that will orient you to your life in ways big and small. When you think about it, is it reasonable to expect your monastic teacher to offer you sage advice on your romantic relationship or your career ambitions or even your desire on how to manifest your moral vision in the world, as a householder?

There’s another important reason: when you look at the wave of spiritual teachings that came to the West in the 1960s and 1970s these teachings mainly came via renunciate teachers, and from Westerners who practiced in renunciate contexts. Some of the paths that became particularly prominent were that were not the most heavily renunciate. As we’ll see, while it’s helpful to distinguish between “renunciate” and “householder” there’s quite a spectrum within each of these categories. 

I’ll explore that evolution in some more detail in my next post, but I think the important thing to underscore is this: my intention is not to make a case for the moral or practical superiority of one path over another.

Rather, it is to make conscious the historical and cultural contexts in which these paths developed and the way that this might orient a practitioner in very practical ways. By making the unconscious conscious, we might have a dialogue that allows people to more easily locate the path that best suits them. Moreover, I hope it will spur a dialogue that seems to be central to the task of any householder, regardless of which lineage or tradition you’re practicing in: Theravada, Zen, Vajrayana: what does it mean to practice in this tradition as a householder, in this particular time and place of culture, given my personal desires and aspirations?