Beginning the Easter Season: First steps into a Life of Hope

Christ is Risen, Alleluia, Alleluia!!! All good wishes for a wonderful Easter Season!!

For the next 50 days, we have time to attend to what Jesus' death and resurrection changed. In light of these events we live in a different world than existed before they occurred, and we ourselves, by virtue of our Baptism into Christ's death, are new creations as well. We have been embraced by God and live as God's daughters and sons in Christ, heirs of the inheritance he grants us. While all this makes beautiful poetry, it is also all true in the profound ways the very best poetry is true. Objective reality was transformed with Jesus' passion and death; something astounding, universal, even cosmic in scope, happened in these events which had to do with our own salvation and the recreation of all of reality. One of Paul's shorthand phrases for this transformation was "the death of death," something I hope to be able to look at a bit more as these 50 days unfold. Especially, I would like to look at the way we have become an integral part of God's story, the story of his will to bestow himself on and dwell with the whole of creation. 

At this point, it is probably good to recall that the early Church struggled to make sense of the cross, and that faith in Jesus' resurrection took some time to take hold --- though amongst the disciples, that period is greatly abbreviated. Surprisingly, no single theology of the cross is held as official even today, and variations --- many quite destructive --- exist throughout the Church. Many of these mistakenly affirm that God was reconciled to us in various ways rather than the other way around. Only in time did the Church come to terms with the scandalous death of Jesus and embrace him as risen, and so, they came to see him as the Christ who paradoxically reveals God's power in weakness. Only in time did she come to understand how different the world now was for those who had been baptized into Jesus' death, and even more time was required before she began to understand the cross in light of an unfinished and evolving universe. This last shift in understanding, though responding to new scientific knowledge of the world in which we live, is entirely consistent with Paul's and Mark's theologies of the cross. The Church offers us a dedicated period to come to understand and embrace all of this meaning; the time from Easter Sunday through Pentecost is, at least partly, geared to this.

Today is a day of celebration. It is a day we begin to allow hope to take greater hold of our hearts. Lent is over, the Triduum has reached a joyful climax, the season of Easter has begun and once again we sing alleluia at our liturgies. Jesus is revealed as Israel's Messiah and the sanest man who has ever lived. Though it will take time to fully understand and embrace all this means, through the Church's liturgies and the readings we have heard, we do sense that we now live in a world where both death and life have a different character and meaning than they did before Christ's passion and resurrection. On this day we call Easter, darkness has given way to light, and senselessness to meaning -- even though we may not really be able to explain to ourselves or others exactly why or how. On this day we proclaim that Christ is risen and begin our first steps into a life rooted in hope! Sinful death could not hold Jesus nor can it hold us as a result. Alleluia! Alleluia! Christ is Risen! Indeed he is risen!! Alleluia, alleluia!!

Madman or Messiah? We Wait in the Darkness

In reflecting on the periods of silence after Tenebrae, Holy Thursday's Mass and reservation of the Eucharist, and especially after Tenebrae, and the celebration of Jesus' passion on Good Friday, I am freshly struck by their importance and ambivalence. After all, in the first instance, our joy is bittersweet and marked by the anticipation of Jesus' betrayal and passion, while in the second instance, we have just marked the death of Jesus; there is yet a significant period of grief and uncertainty that we call "Holy Saturday" still standing between Jesus' death and his resurrection. The Triduum is one long liturgical event that embraces different moods and salvific moments. Because of this, the silence we observe between services is critical to our ability to enter into this extended liturgy.

After all, Easter is still distant. Allowing ourselves to hear and live with something of the terrible disappointment and critical questions Jesus' disciples experienced as their entire world collapsed is a significant piece of coming to understand why we call today "Good" and Saturday, "Holy." It is important if we are to hear our own deepest questions, and truly appreciate the meaning of this three-day liturgy we call Triduum; it is also a dimension of coming to genuine and deepening hope. I have often thought the Church could do better with its celebration of Holy Saturday, but spending some time waiting and reflecting on who we would be (not to mention who God would be!) had Jesus stayed good and dead is something Good Friday (essentially beginning after Holy Thursday Mass) and Holy Saturday (beginning the evening after the passion) call for.

In explaining the theology of the Cross, Paul once said, "Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more." During Holy Week, the Gospel readings focus us on the first part of Paul's statement. Sin has increased to an extraordinary extent, and the one people touted as the Son of God has been executed as a blasphemous, godforsaken criminal. Throughout this week, we have watched the darkness and the threat to his life intensify and cast the whole of Jesus' life into question.

In the Gospel for Wednesday, we heard John's version of the story of Judas' betrayal of Jesus and the prediction of Peter's denials. For weeks before this, we had been hearing stories of a growing darkness and threat centered on the person of Jesus. Pharisees and Scribes were irritated and angry with Jesus at the facile way he broke Sabbath rules or his easy communion with and forgiveness of sinners. That he spoke with an authority the people recognized as new and surpassing theirs was also problematic. Family and disciples failed to understand him, thought him crazy, urged him to go to Jerusalem to work wonders and become famous.

Even his miracles were disquieting, not only because they increased the negative reaction of the religious leadership and the fear of the Romans as the darkness and threat continued to grow alongside them, but because Jesus himself seems to give us the sense that they are insufficient and lead to misunderstandings and distortions of who he is or what he is really about. "Be silent!" we often hear him say. "Tell no one about this!" he instructs in the face of the increasing threat to his life. Futile instructions, of course, and, as those healed proclaim the wonders of God's grace in their lives, the darkness and threat to Jesus grows; The night comes ever nearer, and we know that if evil is to be defeated, it must occur on a much more profound level than even thousands (or billions!) of such miracles.

In the last two weeks of Lent, the readings give us the sense that the last nine months of Jesus' life and active ministry were punctuated by retreat to a variety of safe houses as the priestly aristocracy actively looked for ways to kill him. He attended festivals in secret, and the threat of stoning recurred again and again. Yet, inexplicably, "He slipped away," we are told, or "They were unable to find an opening." The darkness is held at bay, barely. It is held in check by the love of the people surrounding Jesus. Barely. And in the last safe house on the eve of Passover, as darkness closes in on every side, Jesus celebrated a final Eucharist with his friends and disciples. He washed their feet and reclined at table with them like free men did. And yet, profoundly troubled, Jesus spoke of his impending betrayal by Judas. None of the disciples, not even the beloved disciple, understood what was happening. There is one last chance for Judas to change his mind as Jesus hands him a morsel of bread in friendship and love. God's covenant faithfulness is maintained.

But Satan enters Judas' heart, and a friend of Jesus becomes his accuser --- the meaning of the term Satan here --- and the darkness enters this last safe house of light and friendship, faith and fellowship. It was night, John says. It was night. Judas' heart is the opening needed for the threatening darkness to engulf this place and Jesus as well. The prediction of Peter's denials tells us this "night" will get darker, colder, and emptier yet.  But in John's story, when everything is at its darkest and lowest, Jesus exclaims in a kind of victory cry: [[ Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him!]] Here, as darkness envelopes everything, Jesus exults that authentic human being is revealed, made known, and made real in space and time. Here, in the midst of the deepening "Night," God too is revealed and made fully known and real in space and time. It is either the cry of a messiah who will overcome evil right at its heart --- or it is the cry of a madman who cannot recognize or admit the victory of evil as it swallows him up. Amid these days of death and vigil, we do not really know which. At the end of these three days, this Holy Triduum, we will see the answer.

On the Friday we call "Good," the darkness intensified. During the night, Jesus was arrested and "tried" by the Sanhedrin with the help of false witnesses, desertion by his disciples, and Judas' betrayal. Today, he was brought before the Romans, tried, found innocent, flogged in an attempt at political appeasement, and then handed over anyway by a fearful, self-absorbed leader whose greater concern was for his own position to those who threatened Pilate and would kill Jesus. There was betrayal -- of consciences, of friendships, of discipleship, and political and covenantal bonds on every side -- but on God's. The night continued to deepen, and the threat could not be greater. We marked this darkness during Tenebrae services, both yesterday morning and today as well. Jesus was crucified and eventually cried out his experience of abandonment even by God. He descended into the ultimate godlessness, loneliness, and powerlessness we call sinful death and hell. The darkness became almost total. It is difficult for us to see anything else. That is where Good Friday and Holy Saturday leave us.

And the single question these events raise haunts the night and our own minds and hearts: namely, messiah or madman? Can I trust God vindicates Jesus,  or not? Is Jesus simply another idealistic but mistaken person crushed by the cold, emptiness, and darkness of evil --- good and wondrous though his own works were? (cf Gospel for last Friday: John 10:31-42.) Is this darkness and emptiness the whole of the reality in which we live? Was Jesus' preaching of the reality of God's reign and his trust in God in vain? Is the God he proclaimed, the God in whom we also trust, incapable of redeeming failure, sin, and death --- even to the point of absolute lostness? Does he consign sinners to these without real hope because God's justice differs from his mercy? The questions associated with Jesus' death on the Cross multiply, and we Christians wait in the darkness today and tomorrow. We fast and pray and try to hold onto hope that the one we called messiah, teacher, friend, Beloved, brother, and Lord, was not simply deluded --- or worse --- and that we Christians are not, as Paul puts the matter, the greatest fools, the most pitiable of all. 

We have seen sin increase to immeasurable degrees this year in our country, in the larger world, and in the Gospel accounts as well. Though we do not see how it is possible, we would like to think that Paul was right and that grace will abound all the more. But on the Friday we call "good" and on the Saturday we call "holy" we wait. Bereft, but hopeful, we wait.

The Crucified God: Emmanuel Fully revealed in the Unexpected and Even the Unacceptable Place (Reprise)

 Several years ago, I did a reflection for my parish. I noted that all through Advent we sing Veni, Veni, Emmanuel and pray that God will come and really reveal Godself as Emmanuel, the God who is with us. I also noted that we may not always realize the depth of meaning captured in the name Emmanuel. We may not realize the degree of solidarity with us and the whole of creation it points to. There are several reasons here. 

          + First, we tend to use Emmanuel only during Advent and Christmastide, so we stop reflecting on the meaning or theological implications of the name. 

          + Secondly, we are used to thinking of a relatively impersonal God borrowed from Greek philosophy; he is omnipresent -- rather like air is present in our lives and he is impassible, incapable of suffering in any way at all. Because he is omnipresent, God seems already to be "Emmanuel," so we are unclear what is really being added to what we know (and what is now true!!) of God.  Something is similarly true because of God's impassibility, which seems to make God incapable of suffering with us or feeling compassionate toward us. (We could say something similar regarding God's immutability, etc. Greek categories are inadequate for understanding a living God who wills to be Emmanuel with all that implies.) 

          +  And thirdly, we tend to forget that the word "reveal" does not only mean "to make known," but also "to make real in space and time." The eternal and transcendent God who is revealed in space and time as Emmanuel is the God who, in Christ, enters exhaustively into the most profoundly historical and personal lives and circumstances of his Creation and makes these part of his own life in the process.

Thus, just as the Incarnation of the Word of God happens over the whole of Jesus' life and death and not merely with Jesus' conception or nativity, so too does God require the entire life and death of Jesus (that is, his entire living into death) to achieve the degree of solidarity with us that makes him the Emmanuel he wills to be. There is a double "movement" involved here, the movement of descent and ascent, kenosis and theosis. Not only does God-in-Christ become implicated in the whole of human experience and the realm of human history, but in that same Christ, God takes the whole of the human situation and experience into Godself. We talk about this by saying that through the Christ Event, heaven and earth interpenetrate one another and one day God will be all in all or, again, that "the Kingdom of God is at hand." John the Evangelist says it again and again with the language of mutual indwelling and union: "I am in him and he is in me," "he who sees me sees the one who sent me", "the Father and I are One." Paul affirms dimensions of it in Romans 8 when he exults, "Nothing [at all in heaven or on earth] can separate us from the Love of God."

And so, in Jesus' life and active ministry, the presence of God is made real in space and time in an unprecedented way --- that is, with unprecedented authority, compassion, and intimacy. He companions and heals us; he exorcises our demons, teaches, feeds, forgives, and sanctifies us. He is a mentor, and brother, and Lord. He bears our stupidities and fear, our misunderstandings, resistance, and even our hostility and betrayals. But the revelation of God as Emmanuel means much more besides; as we move into the Triduum, we begin to celebrate the exhaustive revelation, the exhaustive realization of an eternally-willed solidarity with us whose extent we can hardly imagine. In Christ and especially in his passion and death, God comes to us in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. Three dimensions of the cross especially allow us to see the depth of solidarity with us that our God embraces in Christ: failure, suffering unto death, and lostness or godforsakenness. Together they reveal our God as Emmanuel --- the one who is with us, as the one from whom nothing can ever ultimately separate us because in Christ those things become part of God's own life.

Jesus comes to the cross, having apparently failed in his mission and shown his God to be a fraud. (From one perspective, we could say that had he succeeded completely, there would have been no betrayal, no trial, no torture and no crucifixion.) Jesus had spoken truth to power all throughout his ministry. On the cross, this comes to a climax, and in the events of Jesus' passion, the powers and principalities of this world appear to swallow him up. But even as this occurs and Jesus embraces the weight of the world's darkness and deathliness, Jesus remains open to God and trusts in his capacity to redeem any failure; thus, even failure, but especially this one, can serve the Kingdom of God. Jesus suffers to the point of death and suffers more profoundly than any person in history we can name --- not because he hurt more profoundly than others but because he was more vulnerable to it and chose to embrace that vulnerability and all the world threw at him without mitigation. 

Suffering per se is not salvific, but Jesus' openness and responsiveness to God (that is, his obedience) in the face of suffering is. Thus, suffering even unto godless death is transformed into a potential sacrament of God's presence. Finally, Jesus suffers the absolute lostness of godforsakenness or abandonment by God --- the ultimate separation from God due to sin. This is the meaning of not just death but death on a cross. In this death, Jesus again remains open (obedient) to the God who reveals himself most exhaustively as Emmanuel and takes even the lostness of sin and death into himself and makes these his own. After all, as the NT reminds us, it is the sick and lost for whom God in Christ comes.

In perhaps the most powerful passage I have ever read on the paradox of the cross of Christ, John Dwyer (my major professor until doctoral work) speaks about God's reconciling work in Jesus --- the exhaustive coming of God as Emmanuel to transform everything --- in this way:

[[Through Jesus, the broken being of the world enters the personal life of the everlasting God, and this God shares in the broken being of the world. God is eternally committed to this world, and this commitment becomes full and final in his personal presence within this weak and broken man on the cross. In him the eternal One takes our destiny upon himself --- a destiny of estrangement, separation, meaninglessness, and despair. But at this moment the emptiness and alienation that mar and mark the human situation become once and for all, in time and eternity, the ways of God. God is with this broken man in suffering and in failure, in darkness and at the edge of despair, and for this reason suffering and failure, darkness and hopelessness will never again be signs of the separation of man from God. God identifies himself with the man on the cross, and for this reason everything we think of as manifesting the absence of God will, for the rest of time, be capable of manifesting his presence --- up to and including death itself.]]

He continues,

[[Jesus is rejected and his mission fails, but God participates in this failure, so that failure itself can become a vehicle of his presence, his being here for us. Jesus is weak, but his weakness is God's own, and so weakness itself can be something to glory in. Jesus' death exposes the weakness and insecurity of our situation, but God made them his own; at the end of the road, where abandonment is total and all the props are gone, he is there. At the moment when an abyss yawns beneath the shaken foundations of the world and self, God is there in the depths, and the abyss becomes a ground. Because God was in this broken man who died on the cross, although our hold on existence is fragile, and although we walk in the shadow of death all the days of our lives, and although we live under the spell of a nameless dread against which we can do nothing, the message of the cross is good news indeed: rejoice in your fragility and weakness; rejoice even in that nameless dread because God has been there and nothing can separate you from him. It has all been conquered, not by any power in the world or in yourself, but by God. When God takes death into himself it means not the end of God but the end of death.]] Dwyer, John C., Son of Man Son of God, a New Language for Faith, p 182-183.

Wouldn't it Be Better to Focus on Christ?

[[ Sister Laurel, did Bishop de Roo write the canon for your vocation? What was Remi de Roo's role in the creation of the canon? Was he pushed into it by the monks who came to him to ask him to lobby for them? Also, why are you so obsessed with this canon? Wouldn't it be better to focus on Christ? I guess I have the same question about trusting in a law made by man and not by God and being consecrated by a man and not by God.]]

Thanks for the questions. I don't believe Bishop Remi de Roo had anything to do with writing or creating Canon 603, per se. At least I hadn't considered that before this last conversation and series of posts. I suppose it is more than possible that Bishop de Roo, and perhaps the hermits he supervised, were consulted on the canon by the panel of Church Fathers charged with actually composing the canon because of his experience with these Hermits of St John the Baptist, but if that is the case, I was unaware of it. The same is true of the role of the Hermits of St John the Baptist. Bishop de Roo esteemed them and the life they led as well as the significant sacrifices they made to embrace secularization in a Church with no universal law recognizing eremitical life. Bp de Roo made a written intervention at the Second Vatican Council affirming the need to recognize the eremitical vocation as a state of perfection. As far as I know, that was the extent of his involvement in the creation of c 603.

Beyond this, the canon itself is a beautiful and integrally complete guide to solitary eremitical life. It is inspired by God and written by human beings, just as much in the Church is written, composed, sculpted, or otherwise created by human beings who were inspired by God, including the Scriptures themselves. We do not treat these as either/or kinds of things or texts, but rather as both/and -- both truly of God and of human hands. They are sacramental, just as bread and wine are "made from human hands," but come to us as gifts of God transformed into even greater gifts of God in the Eucharist. Thus, the Church believes canon 603, and the vocation it governs, come from God and from the many eremitic lives lived before and after its composition. It certainly reflects their lived experience and inspired wisdom. 

Each Rule of Life, written by each professed and consecrated hermit, acts similarly; each one incarnates the living wisdom of the Canon uniquely as this is reflected in a unique eremitical life. Each one is both inspired by God and constructed by human hands, hearts, and minds. The canon must be contextualized as an ecclesial text, one that cannot be understood or lived out effectively apart from the experience of the whole Church and the Living God who inspires it. We read Scripture and truly appreciate the sacraments the same way. Either/or ways of seeing things, especially when posed as "either of God or of human hands," don't generally work well in such a context.

Can the canon be misused or vocations lived under it be badly discerned and formed? Yes, of course. It can be and has been! It is a rich, yet unpretentious text that surprises everyone approaching it with its hidden depths and presuppositions regarding what is required to live it well. Those who read it superficially, merely as law, for instance, or from one narrow and rigid ideological stance, for instance, are missing its very heart and charism. This is one reason I have chosen to write or post about the nature of this canon; also, I am concerned enough with the value of the life it governs to try to explain it. In Christ, it has incredible breadth, heights, and depths, and I believe I have been called by God to write about the significance of this life for others, not only for other hermits, but for the marginalized, the chronically ill, the entire Church, and the world beyond her. I believe this enterprise is one way (part of a very much larger way, of course) that I have been called to glorify God.

I did not start out trying to do this, but over the past almost 20 years, I have done so consistently, with deepening experience, reflection, insight, and wisdom. One can mistakenly see my focus as a personal obsession, or one can more rightly see it as a dedicated service to the God who received my profession and consecrated me through the hands of his Bishop, as well as to his Christ, his Church, and his larger world as well. It seems to me that this has sometimes called for significant attention because of the vociferously incorrigible lack of understanding some have apparently shown this canon and the life it codifies. 

Even so, and much more importantly, this canon is a blessing, and like all of God's blessings, it is also an obligation that has mainly been a joy to embrace. Those who believe it is an obsession driven by a need for prestige seem to believe they can read my mind and heart and attribute motives to me when they are absolutely incapable of any such thing. And those who truly know me, and other diocesan hermits, know c 603 is a gift from God that empowers ever greater humility as the nature, especially of its ecclesiality, is more deeply penetrated and embraced. While you may not have appreciated this, it is all about focusing on Christ!

Bishop Remi de Roo and Indigenous Peoples in Canada

Dear Sr Laurel, Thank you for writing about the way the presence of privilege can lead one to greater humility. I have been listening to someone who clearly has problems with diocesan hermits. I think the truth is that she has problems with you and can't get past those, but I digress. I wanted to ask you about Bp Remi de Roo and the indigenous people of Canada. Do you think Bishop de Roo failed members of the Indigenous People of Canada via the schools the Church ran? I remember hearing a story about de Roo being made a chief of some indigenous tribe in Canada. Have you heard about that?

Thanks for your question. I don't have any details on whether Bp Remi failed the indigenous people of Canada or not, though I am aware of accusations, but yes, I have heard the story you mentioned and can fill in a few details on that. I believe it makes the likelihood of Bishop de Roo failing indigenous people difficult to assert because their esteem for him was something that meant a great deal to him. Further, as a Bishop he decried the "colonial amnesia" Canadians sometimes showed and stressed the tragedy that was the Church's participation in such "cultural domination"; Bp Remi notes in his own writing that all of this abominable treatment by missionaries was rooted in an inadequate reading and understanding of the Gospel, as well as a failure to recognize that God had preceded missionaries on their ambitious journeys and that they had misread and denigrated the symbols God had inspired and "fashioned with indigenous hands." But, regarding the esteem the Indigenous People showed de Roo, here is what he writes about the honor they showed him:

One of the most heartwarming encounters I had [with the First Nations Peoples of Vancouver Island] was a special event sponsored by several tribes that live in this territory. It took place on February 14, 1963, and was held in the huge Longhouse in the TSawout East Saanich Indian reserve near Sydney. It began with a ceremonial canoe ride, recalling the arrival of the first bishop, Msgr Demers. After the welcome by one of the leaders, I was invited to plant a large wooden cross fashioned from a cedar tree. We then processed to the longhouse, where a large crackling fire had been lit at both ends of the building. Chiefs from several tribes made speeches marking their accord with the purpose of the ceremony. I, in turn, presented a woolen blanket to each orator. Then two elderly women approached and placed a decorated blanket on my shoulders. "Now you are one of us," was the theme of the comments made by several of the Chiefs. I was given my new name, "Siem Le Pleet S'HWUWQUN," which translates as, "Great High Priest White Swan" indicating that I was now formally adopted into the [Indigenous] race.(Chronicles of a Vatican II Bishop, pp 82-83

Bishop de Roo goes on to note on another occasion,  

The Native Peoples gave me more than a new name. I am one of the few white people who have gone through the initiation into the native race. I'm a blood brother, not just an honorary chief. Of that I am very proud because it gives me a link with Canada which is more than an immigrant status. It's a link with these people who are the original Canadians. I'm very conscious of the fact that we are in their home here, enjoying their hospitality. We owe so much to the Native Peoples who are the original Canadians. . . The fact that Confederation was born in a context of and injustice towards the Native Peoples, we must right that wrong; otherwise, our Canadian democracy has nothing to say to the rest of the world. ("Keynote Speech," Mosaic's annual general meeting, Vancouver, British Columbia, September 23, 1986.)

Bishop Remi's funeral

So, while I don't know whether Bishop de Roo failed Indigenous Peoples from the infamous schools run by the Church, I recognize a sensitivity and mutual esteem between him and them that militates against the truth of such accusations. Given that Remi de Roo was ordained and consecrated as Bishop in 1962 and the Indigenous Peoples' adoption ceremony took place not quite a year later in 1963, it sounds like Bishop de Roo had a good relationship with the Indigenous Peoples of Vancouver Island before he was made a Bishop. And given the way he spoke about these Peoples in 1986, 23 years later, and just 13 years before he retired from his See, the idea that he failed them in some egregious way becomes truly doubtful. 

I also believe he was the simple (and truly wealthy) man I met in Northern California, and as he portrayed himself or was portrayed in several books. He was wealthy in Christ, in the richness of his commitment to serve God and the Church, and in the love so many had for him and he for them. The picture of his coffin at his funeral also says to me that he was buried as he lived and conveyed himself. I think he was an example of religious privilege leading to, as well as inspiring, greater and greater true humility. Until this recent discussion, I mainly esteemed Bp de Roo for helping move the Church to codify the eremitical life in universal law. Now, however, I recognize freshly just what an exemplary Church leader Bishop de Roo was, and in some ways, still is. I pray I can do half so well in my own public (canonical) life of eremitical hiddenness and praise!!! What perfect timing to return to all this freshly during Holy Week!! God is indeed so very good!!! Thank you for your questions, and my thanks to all those who prompted me to read and write about this once again!!

On the Hermit Vocation: The Place of the Catholic Hermit Today from Montem Sanctum

 

I hope you will appreciate and enjoy this Hermit's video. I have not known about these long, but I appreciate that Father took time to make a series of these on different eremitical topics. He and I are on the same page with the major topics regarding what a hermit is in today's Church and world, I think, so readers of this blog who are not hermits should be well-prepared for Father's presentations. In this video, Father speaks about the importance of the hermit vocation in today's Church and world as well as on the discernment of such a vocation.

Holding Privilege and Humility Together by the Grace of God

[[Dear Sister Laurel, thank you for your response to my questions on ecclesiality. I think I understand that a vocation is ecclesial because it serves the Church in a particular way. I also think I am beginning to understand that the solitude a hermit lives is one that is part of a larger relatedness within the Church. Right? What is a little harder for me to understand is how seeking a certain kind of privilege in the Church can be about humility. I know that when I think of being called to live eremitical life in the name of the Church --- a phrase I got from your blog --- it causes me to feel a little shaky and awed that God might be working this way in MY life. Is this what you mean when you refer to this privilege inspiring humility? I grew up thinking that to be humble meant thinking badly of myself or denigrating myself and thinking of others as superior to me. But you are not talking about humility in that way, are you? Is it possible to think of one's vocation as important and still be humble? ]]

Thanks for writing again! Yes, you are essentially right in what you say of solitude. Also, you have answered your own last question with your description of what happens when you think of being called to live eremitical life in the name of the Church. You say you get shaky and feel awed. I have a friend who gets goosebumps and feels kind of shivery when she recognizes deep truth. I wonder if you aren't having a similar response to this sense of your own vocation?! You don't seem to me to be saying you are full of pride (vainglory) and a sense of being better than others!! You seem to me to be describing exactly the kind of humility divine vocations provoke or inspire in us when we realize that God has called us to serve in a particular way, and that way is way beyond anything we thought we were capable of, especially by ourselves! You are aware, it seems to me, of what God is doing in your life and also with your life. I think that is a genuinely humbling experience. 

Actually, I know that is a humbling experience!!! What is a danger to such genuine humility is our own sense of inferiority!! In my own experience, the thing that can especially prevent one from allowing God to work in and through one in a specific way is clinging to the kind of pseudo-humility that is really a form of denigration and an expression of inferiority. (Even worse, it can be great pride masking itself in terms of self-denigration and inferiority!!) What we do when we fall into this kind of pseudo-humility is to deny the effectiveness of Divine grace. What we do in these times is to tell God that he can't call us in this way, he can't possibly use us to serve him in this way! We are too little or inept or "nothing", or simply too great a sinner to be used for such a role!!! We essentially tell God to look elsewhere, to someone better, or wiser, or cleverer, than we are!! Now that is pride!! Imagine telling God that you can't possibly be both privileged and humble, you can't possibly live a vocation in the name of the Church without becoming all puffed up with pride!!! It's a small step to telling God that no one can be called to serve him in this way and remain humble—a not-so-subtle way of telling God he's crazy, that sin really is victorious over Christ, and to stop calling people to ecclesial vocations!!!

Humility is about being grounded in God. It is a form of loving honesty that reflects the awe (your word!!) occasioned by an awareness of who we are and what we do with and through the grace of God. My own appreciation of the ecclesial nature of this (c 603) vocation grew only as my own capacity for genuine humility grew. I do not tend to lack humility when I speak of the privilege of living an ecclesial vocation "in the name of the Church" because I know I am speaking of a constellation of obligations or responsibilities that I have freely assumed for God's sake and the sake of God's Church and world. I do, however, lack humility when I am afraid to affirm that God could or has called me to such a vocation despite having sensed a divine call!! I lack humility when I deny what the grace of God has done in Christ, and can do, and has therefore done with me in this way!

One feels called by God when one truly feels a yearning to live an eremitical life in the name of the Church. Those who are seeking something else will reveal themselves to those doing discernment with them, as has sometimes happened with this and probably every other vocation in the Church. In c 603 vocations, it tends to happen when bishops who are asked to profess someone without such a vocation simply say, "Whom could it hurt? It's an insignificant vocation! It's hidden away so no one will know or be hurt by such dishonesty or by the hermit's own personal problems!" But of course, a lot of people, and the vocations themselves, are hurt in this way! Imagine bishops telling people that a vocation lived in the heart of the Church, and responsible for revealing this heart to the Church itself, can be filled by someone who doesn't believe they are called to this! It would be like a heart surgeon replacing a heart valve with paper clips and chewing gum and expecting the heart to stay healthy and the whole organism to live! I have been involved with such a case myself. The person was clear s/he did not feel called to be a hermit, and had never lived as a hermit, but felt called to "Public profession," in service to a contemporary cultural agenda. His/her bishop became complicit in this despite being aware of the fundamental dishonesties involved; he professed this person, and together they denigrated a vocation that is both infinitely meaningful and incredibly fragile. This short-sightedness, dishonesty, and abject willfulness are also faces of the lack of humility. 

But none of this is what you have described or feared in approaching what may well be your own vocation. Yes, you are seeking to be consecrated in a way that is associated with particular ecclesial privileges. But these privileges are also responsibilities and obligations you accept in and through the grace of God. The hermits who had Bp Remi de Roo as their Bishop Protector may have been open to accepting certain religious privileges, but these were men who knew well that such privileges were responsibilities and obligations they had already lived wholeheartedly for the good of God's People and creation during their years under solemn vows. While I can't say whether or not they urged Bp Remi to bring this up to the Vatican or at the Vatican Council II, and while I don't think this was on their minds when they left their monasteries, it wouldn't be surprising if, in the face of discussions with Bishop de Roo, they might well have recognized that perhaps God called them to eremitical life after long years in the monastery precisely to get the Church to recognize the value of the eremitical life and allow for it in universal law. 

As you move forward, I hope you never lose your tendency to feel awe and get shaky as you consider what God and you together are doing with your life! Through the grace of God, it is possible to hold privilege and humility together in a way that edifies the entire People of God!! Please feel free to write again. Know I hold you in my prayers, especially in this regard!!

Summarizing Dimensions of Ecclesiality in c 603 Vocations

[[Hi Sister Laurel, you have written a ton of articles mentioning the ecclesiality of the c 603 vocation. Could you do me a favor and repeat the most important conclusions you have drawn about this? I don't guess this idea of "ecclesiality" will matter to most people, but I am becoming a c 603 hermit in a few years (my bishop is thinking 3-5 years), and understand I really need to think about this dimension of the vocation. I don't mean for you to do the work for me, but I want a place to start from and a place I can go back to so I was hoping you could provide this. I really have read some of what you have written and will read more!! Promise!! One thing that concerns me is if having an ecclesial vocation means I am saying I am more important in the Church than my family members. I don't think you are saying that, but it is not clear in my own mind. So, can you help me with this? Thanks very much, whatever you decide!]]

Thank you very much for the questions, comments, and request. I am happy to repeat what may be my most important conclusions (or maybe they are just paragraphs where my writing was clearer than in other places)!! I've chosen two paragraphs taken from Peter Damian's Letter #28, a fairly recent article. 

In recent years, I have stressed that the canonical eremitic vocation is ecclesial. This does not mean that other hermits, especially non-canonical hermits, do not belong in an integral way to the Church, nor that they do not give their lives to the Church. Instead, it means that canonical hermits have accepted a public role in the very life of the Church that reminds every person, at least implicitly, of the two dimensions Peter Damian and Ponam in Deserto Viam put at the center of understanding eremitical solitude (in our oneness we are always part of a multiplicity, and in our multiplicity, we are one in the Spirit). Part of this witness by hermits embracing ecclesial vocations requires a canonical commitment to the life of the Church as consecrated hermits to consciously witness to and build up the very nature of the Church and the consecrated life within it. Solitude in such vocations is marked by a serious and radical aloneness, and at the same time, it participates in and reflects community in an equally radical way. One source says it this way, [[the solitude of the hermit is a solitudo pluralis, a corporate solitude, and (her) cell is a miniature Church.]]

The canonical hermit participates fully in the Sacramental life of the Church. She prays the Church's official prayer (Liturgy of the Hours); she may join with other hermits in lauras --- including virtual lauras that are non-geographic and allow for the strengthening of ecclesial bonds and witness. She lives her life according to an approved Rule of Life and under the supervision of Bishops (and often, accepted delegates) and spiritual directors. She does not live an individualistic life where canon law is dismissed as something only legalists or the "less spiritual" or "more temporal" choose. Instead, she allows herself to become subject to additional canons beyond those associated with baptism alone, because she understands that hermit life is a radically ecclesial and incarnational life, that, in a unique way, sees the multiplicity in one, and the one in and as the many. She wants to witness to this double reality in her own life and to do so officially for the sake of the Church and world.** Of course, it goes without saying that no hermit is alone because she lives with and from God, but what is also true is that no hermit is ever alone because we each carry the entire Church with us in our solitude. In fact, we are that Church.]]

Your concerns about misunderstandings of the term ecclesial in "ecclesial vocation" are important. I am glad you are trying to define this for yourself. When you write your Rule, some sense of the ecclesiality of your vocation should probably be visible to the chancery team working with you. My own take on this dimension of the vocation is that it reflects the heart of the hermit's humility in embracing a vocation God has "designed" to call the Church to be true to her own vocation as Pilgrim People of God. She cannot live this adequately except as an act of genuine humility. Canon 603 hermits witness to an abject dependence on God alone, and at the same time, they witness to the fact that Christ has established a Church in which those who travel "the Way" might journey together in lonely dependence and inspired solidarity in Christ. 

Empowered by the Holy Spirit, the hermit holds these two pieces of truth together in her own life, and the resulting reality and witness are consecrated by God and embraced by the Church at a public act of profession and consecration. (The Camaldolese celebrate this way of being as "Living Alone Together") I don't know a more vivid example of this journey to union with God in communion with the whole People of God in the silence of solitude, than that of the solitary consecrated hermit --- a journey at once radically solitary, deeply communal, and undertaken in a hiddenness that witnesses to ineffable Mystery. To do this, not only for the marginalized who find themselves both radically alone and, mistakenly, without value in our world, but for the entire Church, which can and has sometimes forgotten her pilgrim nature, is a great privilege! Paradoxically, it is a privilege we can only accept and live in the deep humility this very same privilege actually inspires! Doing so in any other way would make us incapable of serving the Church as we are called to do, and as this People of God needs. 

What the c 603 hermit says with her life is that every member of the Church, in whatever smallness or greatness they find themselves in terms of the world, are called to be the heart of the Church and to call the Church to be true to herself and her head. Every person is called to be him/herself, as fully as possible in, with, and through God. When looked at from this perspective, no vocation is more important than another, no person is more exalted or humble than another. And, of course, no vocation is to go uncelebrated or unrecognized -- just another facet of the ecclesial nature and witness of the consecrated hermit vocation. I hope that can reassure you with regard to the question you have about your vocation and your family. 

My prayers for your preparation for consecration under c 603!! Every day of this will be important. Nothing will be lost or a waste of time. That is true even if you should discern that this is not your call at this time. Live it and live into it well!! Meanwhile, all good wishes for a profound and fruitful Holy Week! 

Follow-up Questions on Bishop Remi de Roo

[[Dear Sister, I have read what you said about Bishop de Roo in the past so I was familiar with the story. I liked the way you put some things this time around and thought they were especially helpful in understanding why the Church made a canonical form of eremitical life. (Sorry, I can't copy the text from your blog.) Part of it had to do with the paradoxes involved in the life. . . . I don't know if this is also about paradox, but I have questions about Bishop De Roo. Did you know he had some financial problems in his diocese?  I don't think you are idealizing him, but were you aware of the problems he got the Diocese of Victoria into?]]

Hi good questions, and important. Yes, I was aware of the problems that occurred with Bp De Roo over a land deal. He wrote a book about this (I think it was his account I read, but it was a while ago) and there was at least one other book I read about it all by Patrick Jamieson. There were two sides to the story (at least and of course!). In the book I read by Jamieson, a Catholic journalist, there were five major claims about Bp De Roo being made regarding financial mismanagement, questionable investments, etc. Most of these focused on a land deal the bishop was involved in that would have made money for the Diocese of Victoria". The Church, after de Roo's retirement, stopped making mortgage payments, and the debt soared due to penalties, etc. What was discovered by Jamieson was that the really concerted attempts to vilify Bishop began in 2000, immediately after he had retired in 1999. 

Concerning the land deal mentioned above, seven years after de Roo retired, it was decided in court (in the US, where the land was) that de Roo had made a solid investment in the land involved. There had been no mismanagement. The violation of the contract with a US businessman by the Church was unjustified, and the Church needed to work with the plaintiff to recoup his investment. The plaintiff desired to do this without hurting the Church if that was possible. The Church, however, appealed the decision and, as I recall the situation now, the decision was eventually sustained. In any case, it is clear that Bishop de Roo was not involved in much of this, and his place as an administrator was vindicated. The situation was similar to the other four areas of dispute and allegations. Jamieson refers to these as "myths" in his book.

What Jamieson also noted was that the accusations of fiscal mismanagement always seemed to come from the same small group of people who resented de Roo's attempts to implement the conclusions of, or drawn from, Vatican II. Whether or not this was true or accurate, there is no doubt that de Roo was a "reformist" or progressive Bishop and theologian, and a small traditionalist faction formed that attempted first to block changes and then, to vilify de Roo. The idea of discrediting progressive bishops was not novel, though it was unusual in the Canadian Church. Still, it was real, and it seems to me that Bp de Roo was pulled into this after he had retired with allegations of fiscal mismanagement during his tenure as Bishop of Victoria. 

In another area of concern, while I don't know details regarding the extent to which Remi de Roo was involved in the clergy abuse scandal, I do know the book he wrote about it and the quality of his response. The book is called Cries of Victims and Voice of God. There is no doubt Bp Remi dealt with this profound problem and scandal as has every bishop in the Roman Catholic Church, and better than many. What comes through in the book is de Roo's deep compassion and grief as a prominent Church leader who loves God, the People of God, and his own priestly vocation. The title of this book alone tells one what he valued primarily, and what guided whatever he did in this area. He wanted (the Church) to hear the victims, and he wanted the voice of God to be heard and acted on by all. From what I know of the man and Bishop, this reflected his character; this was who he was. 

As you say, I am not idealizing him. There is no need for that because I don't think I am naive in my assessments of what he did at Vatican II and in the Diocese of Victoria. Until now, I have written only about his role as the bishop-protector of a group of hermits in British Columbia. That is the context in which I met Bp de Roo, and the topic we very briefly conversed about. It is also the only topic that has been relevant to the questions raised and answered here. Even so, precisely because I esteem him (and am grateful to God for the role he played in getting c 603 promulgated after Vatican II), I have read about problems he was at least purported to have caused or failed at. What I have discovered is that, generally speaking, in complex situations, he was often not actually culpable for or of the accusations made. What I have also discovered is that even when there was some entirely understandable and regrettable episcopal failure or inadequacy (we really do not expect bishops to be entirely successful in everything they attempt), it was de Roo's admirable character that still shone out. 

I have told this story before, but perhaps it is a good time to tell it again. Before a celebratory dinner on the day I met Bishop de Roo, we had a Mass. Bp John Cummins was there (another attendee of Vatican II and good friend of de Roo from the days of the Council), Bp de Roo, some other clergy, and religious who were participating in some way in the liturgy. I was to carry the book of the Gospels in the entrance procession. We did a brief practice to see who went where in the procession line, who bowed when, and who went where next. It was a quick, matter-of-fact, and quiet kind of strategic "scramble" before we settled in to truly pray the liturgy. As the presiders were talking about these logistics, Bishop de Roo turned to me and said, "You carry the book of the Gospels. You bow to no one!!" Was Bp de Roo throwing his weight around as a bishop here? Was this about pride or prestige? No, it was about priorities, and I believe Bishop de Roo's were revealed very clearly in that moment.

On the Church's Regard for the Eremitic Vocation and c 603

[[Dear Sister Laurel, was your vocation under this new canon created or caused to be created by a dissenting Bishop? Did he do this because a group of hermit lobbied to force the Church to respect them and their vocations? I heard this from a hermit who does videos.]]

Thanks for your questions. From my perspective, the views you are asking about are erroneous and unhelpfully cynical. Bishop Remi de Roo was not a dissenting bishop. He was a supporter of Vatican II and a whole-hearted supporter at that. Vatican II is a significant part of the Tradition of the Church, and that is true even though it is a relatively recent addition to that Tradition that recovers some very early Tradition. I suppose if one is not particularly in agreement with Vatican II, particularly in its anti-clericalism and its universal call to holiness, one might call Bp de Roo a dissenter, but I would suggest that this is simply not the case.

Secondly, Bp de Roo was Bishop-protector for a group of hermits (a laura) in British Columbia who had left their communities and vows because they felt called by God to even greater solitude than their monasteries allowed, and eventually came together in the laura in BC. This is sometimes seen as the natural progression of the monastic life, so it ought not surprise us. Most of these men had been Benedictine monks for many years, but living as hermits was something their congregations' (or monasteries') proper or particular law did not allow. They loved their various communities and were completely committed to "seeking God" as every Benedictine commits to do for the entirety of their life, but in this particular matter, they found themselves having to leave their monasteries and vows in order to seek God in eremitical solitude. 

Had they wanted the Church's respect, they certainly chose a funny way of going after that. After all, they let go of everything having to do with such a choice, let go of legal standing and positions of influence, relinquished years and years in solemn vows and consecrated life, and chose to be secularized to seek God alone in stricter solitude. (Remember, the Church in the West had no universal canon law governing eremitic life, and hermits, as a vital reality, had almost died out. These men clearly followed God into obscurity in the very best Gospel and Desert fashion. Only over time did they come together in British Columbia, and then, only over time did Bishop de Roo become their Bishop Protector.)

Bishop Remi worked with these men for a period of some years, and he knew their lives to be a significant gift to the Church. Through the centuries, Bishops in the Western Church had established local canons to allow for hermits and anchorites in their dioceses, but there had never been a universal law recognizing the vocation. As a result of his experience with these hermits, Bishop Remi de Roo was impressed with the vocation, and as one of the youngest Bishops at Vatican Council II, he made an intervention supporting the recognition of hermit life as a state of perfection. He gave a number of very positive reasons justifying this petition. As I have noted before, these included: 

• 1) The fact of growing renewal of the eremitic life, 
• 2) the sanctifying value of the hermit's life, 
• 3) the hermit's contribution to the life of the church. This would include the hermit's prophetic role, a modeling of the Church's call to contemplation, and the centrality of prayer, being a paradigm of the way we are each called to confront evil within our own lives and world, or allow heaven (God's own life shared with others) to interpenetrate our reality, and a dedicated seeking of God that forms the basis of every Christian life or vocation and witnesses to the truth of the Gospel in a particularly vivid way, 
• 4) the ecumenical value of the hermit's life (especially in dialogue between Eastern and Western Christianity, but also in conversations with Protestantism, supporting the place of lives dedicated to prayer) 
• 5) a correction of the impression that the evangelical counsels are limited to institutionalized community life known as religious life. (This is something post-nominal initials help do, by the way, as does the habit, etc.) Remi De Roo was the Bishop protector of a colony of (more than) 10 -12 hermits. He wrote about these benefits and needs based on the lives lived by these hermits and others and "earnestly request(ed)" the Council "officially recognize the eremitical life as a state of perfection in the Church." (taken from Vita Eremitica Iuxta Can 603, p 137 reporting on Acta Synodalia Sacrosancti Concilii Oecumenici Vaticani II, vol iii, pars vii, pp 608-609)
• I would add another reason Bishop de Roo became more aware of after Vatican II, namely, that in a world where individualism is both destructive and was well on its way to becoming the epidemic it is today, it was important for the Church to recognize that eremitism is antithetical to individualism! This could be done by giving hermits canonical standing in the Church.

When God gives the Church a gift, the only appropriate response is to honor and celebrate it. Bishop Remi recognized the gift and sought to have the Church recognize and honor it universally by providing for it in law for the first time ever. Vatican II led to the revision of the Code of Canon Law, and in Advent of 1983, this revision included two "new" (and ancient) forms of consecrated life: c 603, solitary eremitical life lived under the local bishop's supervision, and c 604, consecrated virginity for women living in the world. There is no sense at all in anything I have been able to read on the subject that the hermits under Bp de Roo's episcopal protection lobbied for this in any way. Certainly, this had nothing to do with some kind of egoistic and vainglorious clamoring for prestige or status.

The eremitical vocation is profoundly countercultural. It isn't an easy vocation, and it needs the support of the Church it both serves and reflects. C 603 hermits live a hiddenness that is very real. They declare with their lives that the journey to union with God is at the heart of every person's call to authentic humanity, and they signal the hiddenness of this pilgrimage in a way that is provocative and, so, paradoxical. Again, by definition, the world militates against such a vocation. The Church, of course, is called to be "in the world but not of it"; hermits are among those called by God to make very sure the Church is true to this calling. We don't do this by running from the world that is God's good creation, nor by turning away from the Church that is an embodied (sacramental) reality rooted in history as well as in eternity. Instead, we do this by rejecting enmeshment in that which is resistant to Christ and embracing a solitary solidarity that is contrary to individualism. 

The Church's recognition of and regard for such vocations (ecclesial vocations to the consecrated state under c 603, for instance) not only assists in the proclamation of the Gospel (every hermit proclaims the truth of the risen Christ and God as Emmanuel in the extraordinary ordinariness of her life here and now), but also helps the Church maintain its own countercultural integrity and witness in the power of the Holy Spirit -- even though the world sometimes makes that very difficult. This public consecrated vocation is not about prestige or status, but instead, the granting and acceptance of standing in law, the canonical embrace of a place of radical humility which the world simply does not understand.

Living to Praise God, Being Who we Are Called to Be

[[ Hi Sister Laurel, what does the Catechism of the Catholic Church mean when it describes a hermit as one who lives to praise God (I know that's a kind of paraphrase, but I'm sure you know what I mean.)]]

Hi there! Yes, in speaking of hermits, the CCC says hermits live their eremitic lives for the praise of God and the salvation of the world. Everything c 603 outlines, demands, and calls for from such hermits is meant to lead them to become someone whose entire life praises God and witnesses to him in a way that can effectively lead others to life in, with, and through God. The life laid out in c 603 is meant to be redemptive for the hermit (this is a central quality that must be evident when dioceses discern such vocations), and to the extent this is so, it will be a life that praises God and leads others to praise him similarly (though likely not as hermits!). What I want to emphasize is that praise is not only something the hermit does (a specific form of prayer she expresses, for instance), but something (or, better, someone) she is. We are made to be truly human, to be truly and abundantly alive, and when we do that through the grace and Spirit of God, we become the very embodiment of Divine praise.

Augustine said it this way (you'll definitely recognize the last sentence): [[Nevertheless, to praise you is the desire of man, a little piece of your creation. You stir man to take pleasure in praising you, because you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in thee.]] In this passage, Augustine identifies the deepest desire of our hearts (not a desire, but the desire, of the human person), as praising God. He then identifies this activity, this way of being, with being at rest in God. It is not a huge step from the realization that we are made to rest in God, to the realization that whenever we come to truly rest in God, we also become an act of praise for that One who is the very source and ground of our life and its telos or goal.

We desire one thing which we may describe in different ways. We desire God, above and before all else. We may recognize this as a yearning for abundant life, for meaning, for love and relationships, or belonging. We may identify this hunger as one for creativity, significant work, and the ability to assist and serve our brothers and sisters in this world. Or we may recognize a deep desire for happiness, for joy, for satisfaction, and the ability to give ourselves totally in spending ourselves for that which is truly meaningful. All of these are signs of our desire for God and the abundant life God gives us whenever God gives us (and we receive) Godself. To live out what God gives us as a gift to our world is an act of praise.

We can see that when we do something well with a gift or talent, we recognize as God-given. If one plays a Bach unaccompanied partita as well as one can, no matter how much work or time it has taken them to prepare such a performance, it is an act of praise to God --- and so is the work it took to get there! When a young child manages to tie her shoes for the first time -- or for the three hundredth -- it is an act of praise. If an older person manages to walk up and down the hallway of their residence a few times despite painful arthritis, it is an act of Divine praise, especially if accompanied by a commitment to be oneself fully or by a feeling of gratitude for the gift of life, even life with significant limitations. So, in an even greater way, the act of living our lives well and being the persons we are called to be, is an act of praise. 

For the hermit, we certainly do spend time praising God in the sense of saying prayers of praise, but more importantly, the hermit chooses to live her life with God, toward union with God, and for the sake of all that is precious to God, for God's Church, God's kingdom, and the whole of God's creation. She chooses to be God's own, as she and all of us are meant to be. She chooses to live as clearly and simply as she possibly can the truth of the Gospel, which means to be fully herself, here and now, at rest in God in Christ. In other words, she chooses to become the imago Christi she has been made to be, and that makes her life an act of great praise. Every person is called to this same fundamentally human vocation; hermits do it in a way that makes this plain because it is unobscured by a life of active ministry**, so the hermit's is a life dedicated to prayer and the silence of solitude with, in, through, and to God alone.

** Hermits are allowed to undertake some limited degree of active ministry. In fact, paradoxically, some degree of this may be necessary for the hermit's growth as a person and a hermit. Still, it should never overshadow what really defines their eremitical life, much less should it be allowed to obscure what that life is most profoundly about. Praise of God for the person of prayer is always about being before it is about doing, and doing flows from being or reflects learning to be. This is part of the hermit's lesson for both the Church and the world.

Feast of St Joseph, Iconic Seeker of God's Own Justice (Reprised)

Today's feast is the Solemnity of St Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary. One of the lessons we take from Joseph's story is the importance of faithfulness to the presence of God in even the most seemingly mundane parts of our lives. Such faithfulness can allow momentous things to happen, and it is through such faithfulness in small, everyday things that the will of the eternal God to set all things right (that is, the will to do justice) is ultimately done. We don't know lots of stories about Joseph, but we do know that he struggled to discern and do the will of God (hence his attention to dreams). We know too that he committed himself to what God was doing in and through Mary, and that he supported and expressed this through his daily faithfulness both as a husband and father.

Especially poignant, I think, is the Matthean story of Joseph as the icon of one who struggles to allow God's own justice to be brought to birth as fully as possible in his relationship with Mary. It is, in its own way, a companion story to Luke's account of Mary's annunciation and fiat. Both Mary (we are told explicitly) and Joseph (implied not least, by his dream and his attention to that dream) ponder things in their hearts; both are mystified and shaken by the great mystery which has taken hold of them and in which they have become pivotal characters. Both allow God's power and presence to overshadow them -- though in different ways -- so that God might do something qualitatively new in the world. But it is Joseph's more extended and profoundly faithful struggle to overcome his fear and even some deeply held religious convictions that is at the heart of those few stories we have about him. In today's Feast, Joseph does justice in mercy; indeed, he reveals the truth that true justice is mercy, thus modeling God's own justice in ways that fulfill OT conceptions of justice and challenge some of our own as well.

The Struggle to Do Justice, the Situation:

I am a little ashamed to say that until several years ago, I hadn't spent much time considering Joseph's predicament or the context of that predicament. Instead, I had always thought of him as a good man who chose the merciful legal solution rather than opting for the stricter one available to him. I never saw him making any other choice, nor did I understand the various ways he was pushed and pulled by his own faith and love --- nor his fear! But Joseph's situation was far more demanding and frustrating than I had ever appreciated! Consider the background that weighed heavily on Joseph's heart. First, he is identified as a just or righteous man, a man faithful to God, to the Covenant, a keeper of the Law or Torah, an observant Jew who was well aware of Isaiah's promise and the sometimes bitter history of his own Davidic line. All of this and more is implied here by the term "righteous man". In any case, this represents his most foundational and essential identity. Secondly, he was betrothed to Mary, wed (not just engaged!) to her though he had not yet taken her to his family home and would not for about a year. That betrothal/marriage was a symbol of the covenant between God and His people. Together, Joseph and Mary symbolized the Covenant; to betray or dishonor this relationship was to betray and profane the Covenant itself. This too was uppermost in Joseph's mind precisely because he was a righteous man.

Thirdly, he loved Mary and was entirely mystified by her pregnancy. Nothing in his tradition prepared him for a virgin birth. Mary could only have gotten pregnant through intercourse with another man so far as Joseph could have known --- and this despite Mary's protestations of innocence. (The OT passage referring to a virgin is more originally translated as "young woman". Only later, as "almah" was translated into the Greek "parthenos" and even later was seen by Christians in light of Mary and Jesus' nativity, did "young woman" firmly come to mean  "a virgin".) The history of Israel was fraught with all-too-human failures that betrayed the covenant and profaned Israel's high calling. While Joseph was open to God doing something new in history, it is more than a little likely that he was torn between which of these possibilities was actually occurring here, just as he was torn between believing Mary and continuing the marriage and divorcing her and casting her and the child aside.

What Were Joseph's Options?

Under the Law, Joseph had two options. The first involved a very public divorce. Joseph would bring the situation to the attention of the authorities, involve witnesses, repudiate the marriage and patrimony for the child, and cast Mary aside. This would establish Joseph as a wronged man and allow him to continue to be seen as righteous or just. But Mary could have been stoned and the baby would also have died as a result. The second option was more private but also meant bringing his case to the authorities. In this solution, Joseph would again have repudiated the marriage and patrimony but the whole matter would not have become public and Mary's life or that of the child would not have been put in immediate jeopardy. Still, in either instance, Mary's shame and apparent transgressions would have become known and in either case, the result would have been ostracization and eventual death. Under the law Joseph would have been called a righteous man but how would he have felt about himself in his heart of hearts? Would he have wondered if he was just under the Law but at the same time had refused to hear the message of an angel of God, refused to allow God to do something new and even greater than the Law?

Of course, Joseph might have simply done nothing at all and continued with the plans for the marriage's future. But in such a case, many problems would have arisen. According to the Law, he would have been falsely claiming paternity of the child --- a transgression of the Law and thus, the covenant. Had the real father shown up in the future and claimed paternity, Joseph would then have been guilty of "conniving with Mary's own sin" (as Harold Buetow describes the matter). Again, the law and covenant would have been transgressed and profaned. In his heart of hearts, he might have believed this was the just thing to do but in terms of his People and their Covenant and Law, he would have acted unjustly and offended the all-just God. Had he brought Mary to his family home, he would have rendered them and their abode unclean as well. If Mary were guilty of adultery, she would have been unclean --- hence the need for ostracizing her or even killing her!

Entering the Liminal Place Where God May Speak to Us:

All of this and so much more was roiling around in Joseph's heart and mind! In one of the most difficult situations we might imagine, Joseph struggled to discern what was just and what it would mean for him to do justice in our world! Every option was torturous; each was inadequate for a genuinely righteous man. Eventually, he came to a conclusion that may have seemed the least problematical, even if it was not wholly satisfactory, namely to put Mary away "quietly", to divorce her in a more private way, and walk away from her. And at this moment, when Joseph's struggle to discern and do justice has reached its most neuralgic point, at a place of terrible liminality symbolized in so much Scriptural literature by dreaming, God reveals to Joseph the same truth Mary has herself accepted: God is doing something unimaginably new here. He is giving the greatest gift yet. The Holy Spirit has overshadowed Mary and resulted in the conception of One who will be the very embodiment of God's justice in our world. Not only has a young woman become pregnant, but a virgin will bear a child! The Law will be fulfilled in Him, and true justice will have a human face as God comes to be Emmanuel in this new and definitive way.

Joseph's faith response to God's revelation has several parts or dimensions. He decides to consummate the marriage with Mary by bringing her to his family home, but not as an act of doing nothing at all and certainly not as some kind of sentimental or cowardly evasion of real justice. Instead, it is a way of embracing the whole truth and truly doing justice. He affirms the marriage and adopts the child as his own. He establishes him in the line of David even as he proclaims the child's true paternity. He does this by announcing the name of his new son to be Jesus, literally, God saves.  Thus Joseph proclaims to the world that God has acted in this Son's birth in a new way that transcends and relativizes the Law even as it completely respects it. He honors the Covenant with a faithfulness that leads to that covenant's perfection in the Christ Event. In all of this, Joseph continues to show himself to be a just or righteous man, a man whose humanity and honor we ourselves should regard profoundly.

Justice is the way to Genuine Future:

Besides being moved by Joseph's genuine righteousness, I am struck by a couple of things in light of all of this. First, discerning and doing justice is not easy. There are all kinds of solutions that are partial and somewhat satisfactory, but real justice takes work and, in the end, must be inspired by the love and wisdom of God. Secondly, Law per se can never really mediate justice. Instead, the doing of justice takes a human being who honors the Law, feels compassion, knows mercy, struggles in fear and trepidation with discerning what is right, and ultimately is open to allowing God to do something new and creative in the situation. Justice is never a system of laws, though it will include these. It is always a personal act of courage and even of worship, the act of one who struggles to mediate God's own plan and will for all those whom that involves. Finally, I am struck by the fact that justice opens reality to a true future. Injustice closes off the future. In all of the partial and unsatisfactory solutions Joseph entertained and wrestled with, each brought some justice and some injustice. A future of some sort was assured for some and foreclosed to others; often, both came together in what was merely a sad and tragic approximation of a "real future". Only God's own will and plan assures a genuine future for the whole of his creation. That too is something yesterday's Gospel witnessed to.

Another Look at Joseph:

Joseph is a real star in Matt's account of protecting Jesus' nativity and life beyond that; he points to God and the justice only God can do. It is important, I think, to see all that he represents as Mary's counterpart in the nativity of Jesus (Son of David), who is Emmanuel (God With Us). Mary's fiat seems easy and graceful in more than one sense of that term. Joseph's fiat is hard-won but also graced or graceful. For Joseph, as for Mary, there is real labor involved as the categories of divinity and justice, law and covenant are burst asunder to bring the life and future of heaven to birth in our world. But Joseph with Mary also both lived essentially hidden lives, which were faith in all the little and big moments of being spouses and parents --- the vocations that allowed God's will to justice to be accomplished in their Son, Jesus.

May we each be committed to the work of mediating God's own justice and bringing God's future into being, especially in this Lenten season. This is the time when we especially look ahead to the coming of the Kingdom of God and attune ourselves in hope to the time when God will be all in all. May we never take refuge in partial and inadequate solutions to our world's problems and need for justice, especially out of shortsightedness, sentimentality, cowardice, evasion, or fear for our own reputations. And may we allow Joseph to be the model of discernment, humility, faithfulness, and courage in mediating the powerful presence and future of God, we recognize as justice and which we so yearn for in this 21st Century.