Followup Comments on Respect for Oneself, Others, and our use of the Internet

[[ Hi Sister O'Neal, what you wrote about the internet and privacy applies to more than hermits. I have wondered about the effect of the internet on everyone's sense of privacy and the way that diminishes our ability to respect ourselves and others. You said something like this in writing about hermits. It's almost as though people don't have a sense of the value of themselves anymore. What you wrote about your own "inner journey" recently interested me a lot because you were talking about something very intimate and personal, but you didn't let it all hang out there either. You had a very clear reason for saying what you did, and I thought you did it for the sake of your vocation. I thought that was risky and it made me ask if you were doing the opposite of what you had said you or any hermit should, but in the end, I thought you pulled it off.]]

Hi there, yourself! Thanks for your comments. Yes, I agree with you 100% regarding the internet and privacy issues. Thank you also for commenting on what I call a paradox, namely the need to write about certain deeply personal dimensions of my life while being appropriately discreet and so, without "letting it all hang out there" as you put it! I have done that because I think the inner journey I wrote about is the very heart of the eremitic vocation, and because I think it is only in making that clear that we can finally begin to lay to rest some of the stereotypes associated with the idea of hermits. It also provides a central core of content for those trying to live and/or discern another's eremitic vocation. This would apply to diocesan personnel and other c 603 hermits who might be assisting a diocesan team in accompanying or mentoring candidates or discerning this kind of vocation.

Once the emphasis is put on this kind of journey, many things fall into place in considering a call to this vocation. These include, but are not limited to, distinguishing between anonymity and hiddenness or privacy and hiddenness,  recognizing that physical solitude is not the measure of eremitical life while existential solitude is, recognizing the distinction between praying for others (important) and the deeper journey of prayer a hermit is called to make. (As I have written before, I dislike the appellation "prayer warrior", not because I don't think intercessory prayer is important (it is), or because hermits are not called to do battle with the demonic (they are), but because the term is bellicose and puts the accent on individual things the hermit does rather than on the unifying, meaning-imbuing journey the hermit is called to make.)

As I have said many times, that journey is a profoundly human and humanizing one undertaken not only for the sake of the hermit's own wholeness or sanctity, but for God's sake and the sake of the Church as Christ's own Church. (God wills to be Emmanuel, God with us, and we are committed to God's accomplishment of that will.) This journey is not only a universal one (i.e., every person is called to undertake it in some way appropriate to their state of life), but it is the highest act of charity we can offer God, because it is about providing (under the impulse of the Holy Spirit) the opportunity for God to truly be the God he willls to be for, with, and in us and God's Church. It is also an act of charity for ourselves since this is a profoundly humanizing process and commitment.

When you spoke about the effect of the internet and its potential to diminish our ability to respect ourselves and others I was aware of thinking that the internet tends not only to diminish our ability to respect social boundaries, but as part of this, it also fails to recognize the sacred and inviolable character of the human person. The Christian Scriptures remind us not to cast pearls before swine lest they be trampled underfoot. It seems to me that some of what I have seen on the internet is precisely about doing something very similar. While I don't believe persons are "swine", I do believe that if we put the genuinely holy out there as though it is just another bit of data about ourselves and our world, we invite people to become as swine and trample those sacred pearls underfoot as they root around searching for something more immediately appealing or "tasty". Acting in this way fails to recognize that these realities are deserving of protection and a sort of personal "tabernacling" --- if you can see what I mean. (In Judaism and in the Catholic Church, we reserve the holiest instances of God coming to us in a tabernacle. )

For Catholics, this idea of tabernacling refers primarily to God tabernacling with us and, in a related way, to the reservation of the Eucharist in an appropriate "tabernacle". However, the Church also reminds us that we are each tabernacles of the Holy Spirit, the sacred "places" where God himself abides inviolably. The way we treat our most precious journey with God should reflect the same kind of care we take with the Eucharist. We offer it freely to anyone in need of and truly desiring its nourishment, and at the same time, we take care that it is not profaned. We handle it with real care or devotion, signal in different ways that it is holy, and reverence it appropriately. This protects not only the Eucharist itself, but the person who might be ignorant of its true nature and thus profane it and themselves at the same time. Similarly, the very intimate personal inner journey we each make with God as we seek wholeness, healing, and Divine "verification" or "verifying" (i.e., being made true by the love and mercy of God) is a sacred journey made by sacred and potentially holy persons; it should be treated that way. Otherwise, everyone involved, even if they are only casual observers, can be demeaned and profaned in the process.

One of the strongest points of division in today's world is between those who fail to regard the dignity of every person versus those who regard some people as having dignity and others as, tragically, less than human. The requirement that we treat each and every person with the same inherent dignity has already been mentioned several times by our new Pope Leo XIV, just as it was a serious refrain in the writings and homilies of Francis, Leo's predecessor. When we fail to truly respect ourselves (and that means failing to see ourselves and act as holy, as imago dei), so too will we fail to respect and denigrate others. The converse is also the case: when we fail to truly regard others as sacred (as imago dei), we will fail to appropriately regard ourselves as sacred (as imago dei). 

This means maintaining boundaries and taking care with what we put up on the internet. In your experience of the internet and in mine as well, we recognize the fascinating quality of some videos or writing, and we are apt to recognize that as we allow ourselves to be captured by these, we have become less than our best selves. When I wrote earlier, I mentioned becoming voyeurs in such a process, despite never having intended this. Those of us who write or put up videos on the internet, especially while representing ourselves (or our Church) as hermits, must observe appropriate boundaries especially assiduously. Doing so means "tabernacling" the inviolable core of ourselves, and opening the doors to that tabernacle reverently and with real care and discretion, not in an elitist way (everyone, not just a limited few, should be able to benefit from our sharing), but in a way which ennobles those privileged to engage with us in this way. 

On the Question of Despair as Mortal Sin: Looking Again at Dimensions of my Journey into Existential Solitude

[[Sister Laurel, in your recent post, you seemed to be saying that God would be present even if one reached a point of despair and committed suicide. I thought despair was always a mortal sin, and it never occurred to me that Jesus had reached a point of despair because he never sinned. If you reached a point of despair, then didn't you also commit a mortal sin?]]

Thanks for your question. It is important to distinguish between the feeling of despair or hopelessness and the act of despairing or giving up all hope. We also need to be clear that we take seriously what the Church teaches today, and not only in the past regarding despair. Remember that the Church has always been explicit about the voluntary character of despair as a mortal sin. She said, essentially,  [[Despair (Latin desperare, to be hopeless) is ethically regarded as the voluntary and complete abandonment of all hope of saving one’s soul and of having the means required for that end. It is not a passive state of mind: on the contrary, it involves a positive act of the will by which a person deliberately gives over any expectation of ever reaching eternal life.]] 

This definition stands, and at the same the Church today has a greater sensitivity to the psychological conditions that can eventuate in acting out of despair. After all, most people who are truly despairing are so because they have been overwhelmed by circumstances and can no longer see clearly or act freely. They feel despair, which is not what the Church considers a sin. Remember that Par. 2282b  of the CCC reads as follows: [[Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide.]]

In relation to the post you reference, I am thinking of what the Church teaches about suicides here as she approaches, cautiously and prudently, the ultimately reassuring conclusion I wrote about in light of Jesus' cry of abandonment.  What I said was,  [[(Hermits) make this choice [to make this inner journey] so that they might experience genuine hope rooted in God and the Christ Event for the sake of God's Kingdom and Gospel. Doctrine, per se, while important, is not enough for the life of the Body of Christ. Interpretations of the cross by others are a critical start, but what is essential if one is to really witness to the truth of the Gospel to others, and bring them to genuine hope, is the truth of our own experience -- even, and perhaps especially when that experience is one of journeying into the shadow of death and despair or near-despair. Recently, I said to my director, "I would not wish this particular journey on anyone, and yet, what I have come to as a result of this very journey, I want for everyone!" ]] 

In the Catechism of the Catholic Church (Par 2283), we also hear: [[We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide for the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for those persons who have taken their own lives.]] While I was not suicidal in the personal journey I referred to in my earlier post, because of the nature of that journey and its roots in past trauma and the search for healing, it definitely happened in incredible anguish and the shadow of death and despair or "near-despair". My sense is that Jesus' journey to Golgotha and beyond took him beyond this experience of mine into godless death itself, and still he remained open to God. 

The words of the catechism's reassurance is rarely far from me: "In ways known to Godself alone. . .." These words apply to so many things that seem absurd, incomprehensible, or overwhelming to us! They were also consciously present to me some of the time during the journey I have referred to; at other times, I now believe, they were an unconscious and strengthening pedal tone that made the journey possible at all. Even more strongly with me was Paul's similar assurance from Romans 8, [[37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[k] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.]]

In other words, I did not lose hope (though sometimes what I felt made it seem a very near thing indeed!). Instead, I both drew on hope and sought it out in a deliberate search for healing. The irony or paradox here is that faith and hope are required to undertake and engage in such a journey to the depths of darkness and hopelessness in search of God, of one's truest self, and for the greater faith, hope, and abundant life to which this leads. 

Another way of saying this is to affirm that such a journey requires the trust of faith and the courage of hope to look despair full in the face, experience the pain and anguish of that reality as it may have existed in one's past, grieve it, reconcile oneself with it, and find both God and one's deepest self in the process. As I understand it, this inner journey is an essential part of the hermit's asceticism and "dying to self," albeit the "false self" that so distorts and limits our true humanity. Again, I am grateful to God for inspiring this journey and for sustaining me (and those accompanying me in various ways) throughout it. As noted above, I would not wish this particular journey on anyone, and yet, what I have come to as a result of this very journey, I want for everyone! It was not anathema but truly a blessing.

Approaching Jesus' Ascension: Abba John Colobos and the Fruit of Obedience (Reprise)

 In the apothegmata (sayings) of the Desert Mothers and Fathers, the story is told of Desert Abba John Colobos' elder (mentor) having taken a dry stick and planted it in the ground. He told Abba John to go every day and irrigate the stick. John did so even though water was a long way away, and it meant John had to travel to the spring each evening only to return hours later at dawn. For three years, John made this trip every day. At the end of this time, we are told the stick turned green and flowered. John took the flowers to the Church and shared them with his brethren, saying, "Behold the fruit of obedience!" We hear in this story a clear lesson on the importance and the fruitfulness of persisting in obedience, not merely in the sense of doing what one is told, but in the very much richer and more challenging terms of entrusting oneself to the wisdom and loving mentoring of an elder in a way which, over time, produces astonishing fruit despite the evident impossibility and apparent absurdity of the project undertaken.

Variations on the Original Story:

Unfortunately, today, few are familiar with the original story, but many have heard scaled-down and skewed variations in which religious superiors demand something similar, usually in order to humiliate and bring to heel novices having difficulty submitting themselves to their superior's commands. In such stories, obedience is less about entrusting oneself to the love of an elder as a necessary part of long-term formation in life than it is about a blind "faith" which demands a subject check their intellect at the door or about breaking another's spirit and causing them to submit to one's will. It is less about opening oneself to a God one can trust to be present even in the darkness and more about simply saying yes to the absurd. It is far less about entrusting oneself to the wisdom of one who knows how to live eremitical life and who is immensely savvy in the ways of the human heart and far more about buying into a narrowly authoritarian notion of obedience.

It is not hard to see why believers and unbelievers alike ridicule the notion of religious obedience, and sometimes faith itself. We can hear them scoff: "Imagine someone persisting in the belief that a dead stick will one day flower! Imagine someone wasting their time, and even their entire lives in subjection to superiors (or a "gospel") that command such absurdities! Imagine such blind and entirely senseless 'faith' where someone submits to the punitive or at best, misguided commands of a superior moved by cruelty, ignorance, and even outright superstition!" We believers have not always done well with our foundational stories.

Desert Apothegm as Analogy of the Story of the Cross

I doubt that many of us today could imagine planting a wooden stick in the ground, watering it daily for years, and having anything fruitful at all come from such a project. Fewer still might listen to the story of Abba John Colobos and adopt such a stick as a symbol of profound hope, true wisdom, or supremely Good News. But it occurs to me that right at the heart of our faith is the story of a wooden stake planted in the ground and watered with blood and tears to bring forth astonishing, even measureless fruitfulness.  God takes the very symbol of barrenness, gratuitous suffering, senseless cruelty, hopelessness, and the despair of godless death, and through the faithful obedience (the trusting, persevering, openness, and responsiveness) of his Son, he redeems and transforms reality. Through this event, God destroys sin and death, brings about the reconciliation of all creation, transfigures it into a new creation that shares intimately in his own divine life, and prefigures the day of fulfillment when God will be all in all. In other words, it is through Jesus' own obedience that a barren stake of death is transformed by God into what Christians call today The Tree of Life.

And yet, we have not always done well in conveying this rock-bottom foundational story of our faith either. As with Abba John's response to his desert elder, Jesus' obedience was not simply a matter of doing what he was told; it was a matter of faithfully entrusting his entire life --- every moment and mood of it --- to the One whose wisdom was greater than his own and whose powerful and kenotic love he would, over time, come to embody or incarnate exhaustively. Obedience here would mean becoming the actual counterpart of the One he called Abba just as it would mean Jesus' committing his whole self to the service of all those whom this One loved and yet loves with an everlasting love. I am sure there were many times when such openness to his Father's will tempted Jesus to see his mission as marked and marred with futility. I am positive that working with his disciples and with the religious leadership of his day felt like trying to teach brainless and heartless chunks of wood to explode in cascades of flowers and fruit. Perhaps this is part of the reason Jesus was so upset by the barren fig tree.

Over the past 40-some days, we have heard a number of similar stories rooted in the power and model of Jesus. Paul's own story is one of a man converted to what must have seemed like a futile project and who persevered in his own obedience nonetheless. Certainly, some of the original Apostles in Jerusalem thought his mission to the Gentiles made as much sense as John Colobos' apparently absurd stick-watering --- especially since they lacked the roots of the Jewish Law and covenant to build on. And yet, Paul and his pastoral assistants brought incredible fruit from what was considered to be Gentile's religious rootlessness and barrenness. Paul in particular entrusted himself to the crucified Christ, rethought Judaism in light of the cross and resurrection, and forever changed the face of Christianity from a sect of Judaism to a worldwide faith with a mission to proclaim the Gospel to everyone without limits or boundaries. Every story of martyrdom, every witness to the Gospel, every call to forgive and be forgiven, every commission to minister to others in the power of the cross, reminds us that what we proclaim is a scandal to religious folks and foolishness to the wise of this world. It is our own revealed version of the stick-watering story of Abba John Colobos.

Applying the Story of Abba John Colobos Today:

In today's readings, both Paul and Jesus entrust the story of the barren-stick-turned-fruitful-bough to us. This is the proclamation or kerygma we are entrusted with by God, a bit of Christian foolishness many will simply deride, the proclamation we call Gospel. This Friday, we will hear the story of Peter's "rehabilitation" by the risen Christ and his call to "feed Christ's lambs, feed Christ's sheep." Because he entrusted himself to Christ's reconciling love we have a Church whose highest leadership is summoned to be a model of obedient love and servanthood.

The mission we are given, the obedience to which we are called -- a responsive commission ratified and empowered at Pentecost ---requires perseverance and trust in a love and wisdom greater than our own.  It means being asked to do great things in our world, but far more often it means saying a trusting yes to small, ordinary acts of faithfulness which -- at least in the short term -- seem to be worthless and of no great moment at all. Especially, it means opening ourselves daily so that the Holy Spirit of both the Father and Son together may empower a responsiveness that brings life out of death, hope out of despair, and an often pervasively barren world to flower in faith and new life.

Like Paul and Peter, like John Colobos and armies of Desert Abbas and Ammas, like Christians of every age and culture we are each called to labor daily to water all of these tasks and many others with ourselves, with our tears of love, joy, grief, and sometimes even with our very blood; more, we are asked to embrace and persevere in our commitments of self-gift so that the scandal and foolishness of the Cross may continue to cause the whole creation to sing in joy, "Behold the New Creation, behold the fruit of obedience!"

N. B. References to readings are taken from the original article, May 2016.

Why does the Church Need Hermits? On the Journey of Existential Solitude and Jesus' Cry of Abandonment

[[Hi Sister, is the inner journey you speak about under the name "existential solitude" frightening? Maybe that's a weird question, but you have said that everyone hesitates to undertake this journey even though it is necessary in order to be truly human. Why is this form of solitude so scary, or why do people want to avoid it? You also said, My sense is that Vatican II gave us a more robust access to Scripture and to a Jesus whose humanity was rooted in faithful prayer (i.e., dialogue with God at every level of his being) and expressed in his active ministry and life with others, as well as in his regular turn to solitude. Both of these revealed Jesus' union with God and the nature of divinity and humanity. But if Jesus was rooted in prayer in this way and united with God, why did he cry out in abandonment on the cross? Did God really leave him, and if he did, then how did God raise him from the dead? I have never understood that or believed that God would abandon any of us, so how could he abandon his only begotten Son? The way I have felt about this is, if God could do that to Jesus, then what chance do any of us have?]]

These are all great questions, and difficult ones. They are questions I have struggled with myself, especially in light of my own recent experience of journeying to the depths of myself and there discovering both God and my deepest, truest self. I haven't asked the questions in the same way you have. What I said to myself was, if Jesus was entirely open and attentive to God (because that is what obedience means), and if he was open in this way even unto death on a cross (even unto sinful or godless death), how could he have not been aware of God's presence unless God truly turned away from him? And yet, how can Jesus reveal God is truly and most profoundly God With Us, if he is a God who abandons us in our sinfulness? I recognize there is paradox right at the heart of this experience of Jesus, but this didn't completely resolve my own questions --- especially as I made my own journey into the center of my Self and discovered the deep darkness and hunger there.

Thomas Merton once wrote, [[My brother, perhaps in my solitude I have become as it were an explorer for you, a searcher in realms which you are not able to visit -- except perhaps in the company of your psychologist. I have been summoned to explore a desert area of man's heart in which explanations no longer suffice, and in which one learns that only experience counts. An arid, rocky, dark land of the soul, sometimes illuminated by strange fires which men fear and peopled by spectres which men studiously avoid except in their nightmares. And in this area I have learned that one cannot truly know hope unless he has found out how like despair hope is.]] It was reflecting and meditating on that last sentence, and in conversations with my spiritual director exploring my own experience and the meaning of all that, that I came to an understanding of what Jesus' cry of abandonment both did and didn't mean.

After all, what does it mean to say that despair and hope are very like one another? This line of Merton's comments fascinated me precisely because of my own inner journey where, in the midst of darkness and anguish, I came to experience light and know hope in a new way. And yet, I also knew I had never felt abandoned by God, was never abandoned by God! So, how could Jesus have been? Was this also something Jesus' death and resurrection changed? Or, did God abandon Jesus and then come back to raise him from the depths of godforsakenness? (I admit, that last possibility didn't make theological sense to me!) Was Jesus' cry of dereliction like my own cry in the darkness of despair or near despair? Did he discover God there in that dark and anguished journey to the depths as I had recently done? But I knew that Jesus' cry was from a darker and more anguished and godforsaken place than my own could ever be precisely because Jesus had made that journey before me, and for that reason, because he implicated God in even that godless place/space/time, I truly never had experienced abandonment by God.

And this still left me wondering what abandonment meant in Jesus' cry. If he was abandoned by God, then how had God raised him from godless death? How could Jesus continue to "exist" at all? And if God continued to hold Jesus in existence in some way, then how could someone entirely open to God, as the scriptures tell us Jesus was, not sense God's presence? I won't multiply my questions further here. Needless to say, there were a number of them. So, I began at the beginning by looking up the Greek word for abandonment. What I discovered was that it is a composite word made up of three words: to leave, as in forsaken; down, as in (experiencing) defeat or hopelessness; and in, as in (left in) a set of hostile circumstances. When I put these together, I saw that "abandoned" meant "left in a hopeless set of hostile circumstances" or better, God "failed to rescue" Jesus from these circumstances. Abandonment thus meant the absence of rescue. And then I remembered several examples of someone loving me precisely in NOT rescuing me from terrible circumstances. One of these involved a story I believe I have told here before regarding my major theology teacher and a group of us undergraduates.

John Dwyer once said, "If I see you (any of you students) doing something stupid, I will not stop you! The majors among us looked bewilderedly at one another and asked, "But he loves us! How could he not rescue us??!!" John saw all this and went on, "If you are impaired in some way, yes, I will intervene, but if you are just making a stupid decision, I will not stop you!" He continued, "Let me be clear. I will always be there for you, and I will do what I can to help you both before and afterwards, but I will not rescue you from your decisions." It took me years to learn that this was what genuine love looked like!! It took me even longer to see this as the key to understanding Jesus' cry of abandonment.

Jesus "set his face toward Jerusalem". He took step after fateful step toward the authorities' violent reactions and subsequent actions as he continued to proclaim his Father's kingdom. His prayer in Gethsemane asked his Father if there wasn't another way, and, I believe that in response, his Abba asked him to continue acting with integrity,  choosing to discern and continue his vocation step by step, wherever those steps led him; I also believe he promised Jesus he would be with him -- for that was also his will. Jesus' Abba promised to reveal himself fully as Emmanuel (God with us), and Jesus continued to act with integrity and trust in his Abba's promises. God did NOT promise to rescue Jesus from the hostile circumstances his integrity led him to face. Quite the contrary. And in the very depths of Jesus' journey into the darkest absence of being and meaning, life and love, God was there. But Jesus' question in the Garden was also sharpened there on the cross: why can't you pluck me out of this situation? Why HAVEN'T you rescued me? How will you vindicate me and, more importantly, my proclamation of the truth of your Reign, your sovereignty, if sinful, godless death is allowed to win out? Don't you see, godless death is swallowing me up!! I have nothing whatsoever left to give!! My God (not the more intimate, Abba!), why haven't you rescued me? 

I don't think there is any sense that Jesus felt God turning away in a failure to love him -- and usually, it seems to me, that is what we mean when we speak of being abandoned by someone, namely, they failed or ceased to love us adequately or appropriately. God did not rescue Jesus from the depths of the darkness and anguish of his journey into godless, sinful death, but neither did he cease loving him profoundly and effectively. Neither did Jesus, for his part, close himself off from God (or from the depths of darkness and anguish). Jesus remained wholly open to God, and God continued to accompany him as Emmanuel into the farthest, most alien land we know. Here is the paradox. In his moment of deepest distress and even despair or near-despair, God was there and would bring consolation and life out of it all -- though not immediately or in the way we tend to expect or desire, perhaps. And this dark, even horrific, journey that Jesus made was made for God's sake and for ours. Indeed, it was the most human journey we are each called to make, the journey of inner or existential solitude where what seems infinitely dark and empty of either being or meaning to us, is also the place where we discover the presence of God, and so, a hope that is capable of sustaining and enlivening us in unimaginable ways.

We often want to be rescued from circumstances, and we cry out to God and others when this occurs, but God does not promise us rescue in the usual sense people mean this, I think. God's rescue means to give us the space to be ourselves and experience the consequences of our decisions (along with the consequences of others' decisions and actions as well, whether these are loving or unloving), and it means he will accompany us there. God's rescue means giving life and meaning to our circumstances, sometimes immediately, often eventually, or even only ultimately. God's rescue means transfiguring our darkness and anguish into sources of grace and hope, life and love, confidence and trust. He does this with his Mysterious presence, a presence we may not always be aware of and can never "comprehend". One point is incontrovertible: God cannot do this if he simply lifts us out of these circumstances and drops us into what is really some (or no) other person's life. That, as I eventually learned from John Dwyer's comments that day in that moral theology class, and from my spiritual director and others, for instance, would not really be loving.

The journey Jesus made, from birth right on up to Golgotha and beyond, was thoroughly human. Yes, in many ways, it was also the journey that human sin colored and made necessary. It was the journey of existential solitude, the journey we each make throughout life as we embrace death in all of its many degrees, forms, and faces so that God might redeem these with and in his life and love. Though you didn't ask about this, Merton understood that hermits (and monks and nuns more generally) make this inner journey in a way most do not because they choose and commit their lives to doing so!** They make this choice so that they might experience genuine hope rooted in God and the Christ Event for the sake of God's Kingdom and Gospel. Doctrine, per se, while important, is not enough for the life of the Body of Christ. Interpretations of the cross by others are a critical start, but what is essential if one is to really witness to the truth of the Gospel to others, and bring them to genuine hope, is the truth of our own experience -- even, and perhaps especially when that experience is one of journeying into the shadow of death and despair or near-despair. Recently, I said to my director, "I would not wish this particular journey on anyone, and yet, what I have come to as a result of this very journey, I want for everyone!" 

I think that too is reflected in Merton's comments cited above and in the following continuation of those comments, The language of Christianity has been so used and so misused that sometimes [we] distrust it: [we] don't know whether behind the word 'Cross' there stands the experience of mercy and salvation, or only the threat of punishment. If my word means anything to you, I can say that I have experienced the Cross to mean mercy and not cruelty, truth and not deception: that the news of the truth and love of Jesus is indeed the good news, but in our time it speaks out in strange places. Recently, as I think you refer to, I wrote about hermits under c 603 as pioneers and explorers. What hermits explore is the realm of existential solitude, and that brings with it both great suffering and ineffable joy. We do this because our experience here undergirds and verifies the Church's proclamation of the Gospel. We do this for her, as well as for ourselves and for the entire world. 

One person recently also asked me if I knew what I was committing myself to when I made my perpetual eremitical profession and accepted consecration. I have to say, no, not clearly. Maybe hardly at all. It never occurred to me that the darknesses and anguished places I explored along this journey could truly benefit anyone -- sometimes not even myself -- yet now I know that in that "strange place" occasioned by trauma and serious and chronic illness, that place where I faced despair and the desire for death straight on while yearning almost beyond words for life and wholeness, is a privileged place where I met God (and my truest self) and was granted the hope, joy, and healing that such an encounter brings. THAT is the journey of existential solitude, and it is also the heart of Paul's theology of the Cross that I, in my youthful "naivete", once told Abp Vigneron I wanted to explore and understand completely. 

I know this doesn't answer all of your questions, but it is already quite long, and I hope it is a good start. May the peace of Christ be with you!!

** Consider what every Benedictine affirms as their primary motivation when they enter a monastery. They declare they are here "to seek God". They do this, not because they do not know God or because God has "gone missing" from the larger world, but because they do not know themselves or God as well or as profoundly as they are called to, and because the monastery (or hermitage) is a privileged place to pursue such intimate knowing. It is this journey of existential solitude, a journey in search of fullness of life and hope rooted in God, that they enter to pursue. So too with every hermit under c 603.

On the Hermit's Role in Providing a Sense of Privacy to Others

[[Dear Sister, what you wrote about privacy vs hiddenness made me wonder if one of the things a hermit brings to this world (especially to the internet) is a sense of privacy. If the internet is as influential as we all know it is, and if it leads to the erosion of boundaries, as you and others say it does, then would a hermit using the internet as you do have a role to play in educating people about this dimension of living?]]

That's an interesting question. My answer would be that we do so indirectly. Directly, I don't think it is the hermit's place to educate about privacy and the internet except in regard to issues like the one I just wrote about, that is, the difference between hiddenness and privacy, the need for respect for oneself and others in whatever one communicates publicly, and the necessity of discernment for the sake of the vocation and one's readers or viewers. It is also important for the hermit to be able to distinguish between inner (existential) and external solitude and to appreciate existential solitude's requirements of discretion and privacy. 

It is true that I would hope all hermits model a sense of these realities and how they are related in whatever they write or produce, and I certainly believe we each have a responsibility to do so, not least, out of charity for God, ourselves, and others, but this is an indirect way of educating. Having said that, I am aware that in writing about existential solitude and the inviolable, ineffable nature of this journey, a hermit or other contemplative might be coming very close to educating about the relationship of privacy and personal integrity,  but again, I think this is indirect. Still, modeling values is a significant way to teach about them, so my response to your first sentence about "bringing a sense of privacy" is that yes, hermits should certainly do this. What a great paradox that is!

By the way, what I wrote in the last post about habits and titles reminds me of the use of a prayer garment or eremitic (or monastic) cowl. I believe symbolizing the inviolability of existential solitude, and so, a reminder of the need for ensuring privacy for oneself and others, is one of the reasons hermits and some other religious wear cowls with hoods up at times. It is also the reason monks and nuns practice forms of custody of the eyes (see my earlier post on this from several years ago). Thanks very much for the question. I enjoyed thinking and writing about this.

Using Internet Wisely: Some Distinctions Between Hiddenness and Privacy

[[Sister Laurel, I have been watching videos by [an online Christian hermit] and reading your blog for some time. You have such different approaches to eremitical life. I have been interested in the distinctions. One of these is about the hiddenness of the hermit life. Recently, [this hermit] put up several posts while running errands in B____, and today she put up one showing herself in a medical waiting room dressed in scrubs as she waited for an MRI. What has me feeling confused and often uncomfortable is how she complains that [despite your supposed hiddenness], you use the title Sister and wear a habit, while she puts up videos of herself shopping, going to the doctor, lying in bed in pain, and so forth, while identifying herself as a hermit to those watching such videos. The videos are becoming more frequent, and it seems like everything, even family fights and details of her physical and emotional condition, is fair game. It's as though everything she does has to be video'd for her viewers while boundaries are forgotten. Yet she goes after you for using her name and not being anonymous yourself. How can any of this be considered consistent with eremitical hiddenness?]]

Thanks for your questions. Let me talk about eremitical hiddenness and also the value of privacy. I have no intention of speaking about this specific hermit's praxis because she no longer presents herself as a Catholic Hermit, something I very much appreciate.  Your comments still raise the more general question of eremitical hiddenness and possible inconsistency, and would do so no matter the hermit involved if they have an online presence. My own blog does that, for instance. What you say about the increasing frequency of videos, along with their content, could also raise the question of an incipient or more developed failure to respect appropriate boundaries. What is true, of course, is that every hermit must answer such questions when they decide to post anything online, and they must continue to raise these questions over time. It seems to me that this is particularly true if they are also publicly critical of another hermit's supposed "lack of hiddenness". Bearing that in mind, let me move on to these more general topics.

Anyone posting online will find that the internet encourages a dissolution of our sense of privacy and of appropriate boundaries. This can be gradual or not. The hermits I know mostly have internet, and we use it to communicate in a variety of ways, to come together in a virtual laura over huge geographical and temporal distances, to post about this vocation, to sell what we make, make doctor's appointments, and things like that. My sense is we each take care with our use of such media. Additionally, some of us have been called upon to do interviews for journalists, authors, radio broadcasters (or podcasters), and the like, but in doing these, there always remains a significant caution that honesty and transparency do not transgress appropriate boundaries. 

Journalists give us the draft of what they want to publish, and we go over these to be sure we are comfortable with everything in the interview, article, book chapter, or whatever. There is no sense ever that this media piece is going to transgress upon our essential hiddenness or the personal boundaries most people have no right or need to see beyond. We don't do the interview, or give permission for its publication, etc., if we cannot be certain of these limits. (Granted, this doesn't prevent all errors, but it does tend to work for boundary issues.) But on the internet, people post or write and put up pictures and videos of themselves that reveal far more of themselves than they realize. It takes real care to use media appropriately while ensuring the hiddenness or privacy necessary to the hiddenness of an eremitic life.

Some things never show up in the interviews or articles I do. While I do indeed mention the chronic illness and disability that are part of my own call to eremitical life, the details of those realities,  especially on a day-to-day basis, are private. Not only are they generally unhelpful to folks reading this blog, but they cross boundaries, both my own and those of my readers, which are better maintained intact. In some ways, "putting it all out there" is uncharitable and can lack respect, both for myself and for the reader. Similarly, some will know I have a sister, a niece, and may even know their first names, but that is ordinarily the limit of things. I once asked for prayer for my sister due to some surgery she was having. I have posted on the occasion of the anniversary of my brother's death. But the ins and outs, ups and downs of relationships (which are pretty much the same as anyone else's) is simply not helpful to anyone reading this blog, and not my right to post about. But let me be especially clear, this kind of thing is not about the hiddenness of my life. It is about the right that my family and I both have to privacy despite the public nature of my vocation.

Hiddenness has to do with the intimacies of my (or any hermit's) life with God, the existential solitude that my life possesses and seeks as an essential dimension of an authentically human life. And, paradoxically, I am called to witness to this hiddenness. Imagine that! In my life, every day of my life, I live a communion or union with God that no one else can enter, see, touch, or know. They can know all of this themselves in regard to their own relationship with God, yes, but they cannot enter, see, touch, or know my own solitude with God. And yet, at the same time, I am called to witness to this inviolable, ineffable, and sacred reality with my life. Sometimes, because I write about the nature of c 603 eremitic life, I am also called to write what I can about this relationship, and yet, a good deal of it (when I can find the words for it) will remain entirely private except to spiritual directors, my bishop and/or confessor, and those very rare (and very good) friends with whom I share this vocation.

Here is where titles and habits can be helpful. They are an outer sign of this inner reality. They immediately signal something existing that otherwise people will not have a way into. Of course, my own qualities and characteristics as a person also reveal the presence and nature of my relationship with God (and are more important in doing so than any habit!), but the all-consuming focus of my life and the total nature of my commitment can be indicated by title and habit. These are signals to an intimacy with God every person is invited to experience and explore for themselves, and which I have said yes to in public vows and consecration. They are also things I have adopted with the permission of the Church as part of an ecclesial vocation. I don't usually know why others wear habits, or, often the more neuralgic question, why many do not, though I understand and respect the decisions made by those I do know. In terms of my own religious life, however, the habit serves as a signal to something hidden and holy --- a journey which differs in some ways from that of most people and is undertaken on their behalf. At the same time, though it is helpful to me, it is less about me than it is about signaling the potential within each one of us, especially within a faith community, to make the kind of journey I have been writing about lately, and that I have mentioned indirectly through the years in terms of "inner work". Today, because they are less common, habits invite questions, and questions invite witness and encouragement of others regarding the journey they, too, are called to make in their own way.

In terms of your questions, what I find fascinating is how apparently easy it is for someone to mistake anonymity for hiddenness or even for privacy. What adds to that fascination is my awareness of how, on the other hand, it is possible to write publicly and talk about the inner journey hermits are called to make, to wear a habit, use the title Sister (or Brother), and maintain the hiddenness of the vocation and the privacy necessary for self-respect and the respect of others. There are paradoxes here that I think are important, and hermits certainly need to be aware of these. Sometimes writing or filming something in the name of sharing, openness, or transparency erodes essential boundaries and potentially involves the reader or viewer in a form of voyeurism. Here is one of the places where the internet's tendency to count visitors coming to the site can be deceptive or misleading. It doesn't always indicate one's writing, for instance, is edifying or even interesting. Hermits need to ask themselves if they are getting the readership (or viewership) they are (especially when that readership spikes upward or drops off precipitously), not because what they write is truly of interest or edifying to others, but because it is fascinating like a train wreck, car crash, or streaker in a park full of people is fascinating.

The potential for misuse of media and the subtle,  even surreptitious, and always surprising ways the use of media can lead to the gradual or even more immediate transgression or erosion of appropriate boundaries for the writer or videographer and reader or viewer alike is important. This is another place where external solitude and silence help protect existential solitude, and where respect for oneself flows over into respect for others as well. That said, let me be clear that I believe videos, vlogs, and blogs can be used appropriately, and that certainly includes those done by hermits. I have posted examples of that several times, including hermits, monks, and cloistered nuns.  Even so, the use of media must be undertaken with caution and careful discernment. 

I would like to leave readers with the observation that privacy and hiddenness, like external and existential solitude, while related, are not the same things. Hermits' hiddenness has to do with their existential solitude and their journey to God and Self. Privacy helps ensure that the journey to the depths of oneself in existential solitude can be, and is, undertaken with focus and integrity. What one reveals publicly is a matter of judgment and respect for oneself, one's vocation, and one's readers or viewers. When we conflate such terms, we tend to make sure that the vocation and the inner journey to which it witnesses are misunderstood. That does not serve God, the Church, or anyone else well, and it contributes to the stereotypes and misapprehensions that plague the word "hermit".

Pope Leo's Address to the Media

 

 As Pope Leo spoke, I thought about something happening in most every religious congregation I know, namely, the conscious choice of non-violent speech. This is something Sisters, in particular, have taken time  and made special efforts to learn. In the Pope's address he gives journalists a sense of their true vocation and how truly he esteems that. There was no doubt that Leo appreciates the importance of the vocation of the journalist and especially in its relation to conveying truth so that peace may prevail. In the above address Leo stresses the importance of journalists not giving themselves over to ideological and partisan language or language marked by hatred, etc. It was wonderfully refreshing to hear the press being called to represent something our world truly needs from them, while honoring them for precisely this vocation.

Pope Leo on Media and Evangelization: Discovering the Mystery of Who God is

I am very excited to hear Leo XIV speak, not least because theologically we speak the same language. I love to hear him speaking with real experience of media in the modern world, the need for critical thinking and its relationship to formation, of the need for really good preaching, a better approach to adult education, and just generally finding ways to assist people to really hear the Word and come to know the Mystery of Jesus Christ. And of course, it was really wonderful to hear his comments on the importance of the consecrated life and charismatic gifts in the Church today. I think many of us will feel we are much more completely understood by Leo XIV.

Habemus Papam!! Text of Pope Leo XIV's Urbi et Orbi Address

Peace be with you all!! Beloved brothers and sisters, this is the first greeting of the Risen Christ, the good shepherd who gave his life for God's flock. I too would like this greeting of peace to enter your heart, to reach your families, to all people, wherever they are, to all peoples, to the whole earth. Peace be with you! This is the peace of the Risen Christ, an unarmed and disarming peace, humble and persevering. It comes from God, God who loves us all unconditionally. We still have in our ears that weak but always courageous voice of Pope Francis who blessed Rome!

Allow me to follow up on that same blessing: God cares for us, God loves all of us, and evil will not prevail! We are all in God's hands. Therefore, without fear, united hand in hand with God and among ourselves, let us move forward. We are disciples of Christ. Christ goes before us. The world needs His light. Humanity needs Him as the bridge to reach God and His love. Help us too, then help each other to build bridges - with dialogue, with encounter, uniting all of us to be one people always in peace. Thank you, Pope Francis!

I also want to thank all the fellow cardinals who chose me to be the Successor of Peter and to walk with you, as a united Church always seeking peace, justice - always trying to work as men and women faithful to Jesus Christ, without fear, to proclaim the Gospel, to be missionaries. I am a son of Saint Augustine, (an) Augustinian, who said: "With you I am a Christian and for you a bishop." In this sense, we can all walk together towards that homeland that God has prepared for us.

To the Church of Rome, a special greeting! We must seek together how to be a missionary Church, a Church that builds bridges (and) dialogue, always open to receive (people), like this square, with open arms - everyone, all those who need our charity, our presence, dialogue and love.

(Switching into Spanish) And if you allow me also, a word, a greeting to all those, and particularly to my beloved diocese of Chiclayo, in Peru, where a faithful people have accompanied their bishop, have shared their faith, and have given so much, so much to continue being a faithful Church of Jesus Christ. (Switching back to Italian) To all of you, brothers and sisters of Rome, of Italy, of the whole world, we want to be a synodal Church, a Church that walks [with one another], a Church that always seeks peace, that always seeks charity, that always seeks to be close, especially to those who suffer.

Today is the day of the Supplication to Our Lady of Pompeii. Our Mother Mary always wants to walk with us, to stay close, to help us with her intercession and her love. So I would like to pray together with you. Let us pray together for this new mission, for the whole Church, for peace in the world, and let us ask for this special grace from Mary, our Mother."

Habemus Papam!!!

Well, we have a Pope!!! Everyone I know was incredibly surprised not only by the choice, but also that there was a choice at all. I heard about the fact of the election just a few minutes before a Scripture class, and as more information trailed in, class shifted back and forth between a discussion of Acts of the Apostles to the choice of Robert Prevost as the first American Pope. I went to lunch with a parishioner and to run a couple of errands. In the bank two people wished me "Congratulations" and one of these (who is traveling to Rome this weekend) asked about what was required to elect a Pope (simple majority, unanimous vote, etc) and I explained a bit about election (2/3 majority plus 1) and the added element of discernment with everyone coming together at the end under the impulse of the Holy Spirit. At UPS another woman knocked on the car window and said, Congratulations!! Exciting, isn't it?" I agreed.

I think everyone has a sense of Leo XIV's commitment to synodality, to the universality of everyone under the gospel of Christ, to the missionary task entrusted to every Christian, to social justice, building bridges, and especially to the centrality of Christ. The difference between Leo and Donald J Trump and the worldview they each hold, could not be more antithetical. I would say that Leo would resonate with the homily given by Bp Marianne Budde (Episcopal) at the National Cathedral when she made her plea for mercy to President Trump and his administration. And in all of this, we should remember that Pope Leo XIV is a registered Republican and holder of dual citizenship; he comes from an ethnic background including Creole with ancestors who were kept as slaves!

As we attend to Abp McElroy in Washington DC and Leo XIV, we will be more able to gauge in time how things will go with the Vatican and the US government. One area in which I am particularly interested is the separation of Church and State and the destructive impulses of "Christian" Nationalism. The new Office of Faith in the White House, and the "pro-Israel" way anti-semitism is now being defined, makes me concerned that "eliminating anti-Christian bias" may also morph into a crackdown on any version of Christianity that is not in accord with "Christian" Nationalism. Freedom of Religion means freedom of ALL religious belief, including all versions of Christianity. Similarly, will any criticism of Churches, clergy, Religious, etc., translate into anti-Christian bias? 

A second concern is current immigration praxis and the Biblical imperative that we make neighbors of all people. A third is the fact that we live in a world where what is true and just is guided by Paul's wisdom from Galatians, "For you are all Sons of God in Jesus Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, all are one in Christ Jesus." Within the Church itself, a Pope who will continue to move us along the road of synodality to a Church that is truly synodal at its roots, sounds like something Leo XIV is committed to. And how will that work out for the current administration?

In any case, I think we Catholics have reason to be encouraged! I believe the Holy Spirit was truly active in this election, both through Pope Francis' preparations for this day, and in the conclave itself, so I too am excited that the Roman pontiff really is committed to building bridges (the very meaning of the word "pontiff") in a world calling us to move forward, not back to the 19th century as the present American government administration seems to desire,  or to a pre-Vatican II Church as some bishops seem wont to push us!! All I can say today is, "Thanks be to God"!!!

A Contemplative Moment: Interior Solitude

 There is no true solitude except interior solitude: 'The truest solitude is not something outside you, not an absence of men or of sound around you: it is an abyss opening up in the center of your own soul.' (Merton, Seeds of Contemplation) The person who has discovered that solitude and been discovered by it, is always solitary, that is, he is always alone with God, even in the midst of a crowd and the rush of a city. Place and circumstance are less important to the person who dwells in peace at the center of his being. It is, however, difficult to imagine how a man could develop a deep interior solitude without a certain amount of stepping back from the crowd in order to glimpse its illusions and diversions, and without some silent time in which to get in touch with himself.

"Not all men are called to be hermits, but all men need enough silence and solitude in their lives to enable the deep inner voice of their own true self to be heard at least occasionally. When the inner voice is not heard, when man cannot attain to the spiritual peace that comes from being perfectly at one with his own inner self, his life is always miserable and exhausting. For he cannot go on happily for long unless he is in contact with the springs of spiritual life which are hidden in the depths of his own soul.

Richard Anthony Cashen, Solitude in the Thought of Thomas Merton quoting Merton, The Silent Life

On Vatican II and the Value of Contemplative and Eremitical Life

[[Sister Laurel, it seems to me that Vatican II asked Christians to turn toward the world in service. In this way, we got a lot of service from the laity, which was very good. What I wondered was what that did to the contemplative life and even to esteem for contemplative prayer amongst the laity? Did it have an effect, or was it all kind of neutral? I am asking because you said few people understand your vocation, and I wondered if Vatican II had a part in causing that. For instance, you write against a notion of fleeing from the world when world means God's good creation, and I think I understand this, but how does contemplative life serve the world? Did Vatican II sort of cut the legs out from under esteem for the contemplative life?]]

What really great observations and questions! While some, including Thomas Merton, suggested he perceived a developing "activistic, antimystical, and antimetaphysical Christian consciousness leading Christians 'to repudiate all aspiration to personal contemplative union with God and to deep mystical experience, because [among other things] this is a pagan evasion, [and] an individualistic escape from community, '" others point to the very strong statement of Vatican II, "The contemplative life belongs to the fullness of the Church's presence" as part of their disagreement with Merton's position. Vatican II also took steps to preserve papal cloister and in the document on Religious Life supported contemplative life while asking that outdated customs and practices be pruned from the life. On balance I would say that Vatican II preserved contemplative life and required attention to what would invigorate or reinvigorate it, even as the Church, in response to the entirety of the council's writings and thrust, took a different and more incarnational perspective on the nature of the secular world.

Some of the Contributions of Vatican II

I do agree that while Vatican II wrote in ways that would preserve and stress the Church's esteem for contemplative life, the accent on apostolic service or ministry had consequences that were not wholly anticipated. So did the accent on a (sacred) secularity that reflected God's incarnation in Jesus. This supported the potential sacramentality of the created world and invited humankind to honor the sacred nature of creation, and it softened the gulf between heaven and earth, thus allowing people to think in terms of the new heaven and new earth being established right here and right now in light of Jesus' death, resurrection, and ascension. Heaven and earth were seen by Scripture scholars and theologians to interpenetrate one another, and this implied letting go of a focus on "getting to heaven" while "fleeing the world"; it meant embracing more of what Rahner called a mysticism of ordinary life. This shift changed approaches to contemplative life to some degree,  but my sense is that it led to healthier and less elitist notions of contemplative and eremitical life.

It is true that Vatican II was confronted with specific interventions on behalf of eremitical life, and while the council did not establish eremitic life directly as a state of perfection as Bp Remi de Roo called for, the revised Code of Canon Law, which was also part of the council's mandate, made room for this with c 603. Still, while Vatican II did not take a direct stance on eremitical life, it did considerably strengthen the Church's dependence on Scripture, and this implied not only a recovery of the desert tradition and its strong accent on encounter with God in the silence of solitude, but also the importance of a deep prayer life accompanying and underpinning any active ministry. Jesus' own life, especially as portrayed in the Gospel of Luke, gave us a strong theology of hospitality, including the importance of hospitality to the God who would be Emmanuel in silent and individual prayer. This strong emphasis on the importance of Scripture in the life of the Church also gave us the robust incarnational theology noted above.

Even Thomas Merton's criticism of Vatican II's influence was countered by his "turn to the world" and his reworking of the way the contemplative or the solitary life is related to and serves the world --- itself a clear theme at Vatican II. That was anticipated and prepared for by Merton's epiphany at 4th and Walnut on the streets of Louisville just a few years before the council. This epiphany was the root of his turn to the world, his rethinking of vocations to the silence of solitude, and his appreciation of the universality of calls to contemplation. It just took some time for this new plant to blossom, but my sense is it flowered in the soil of Vatican II, which, in her appreciation of the goodness of God's creation and in her universal call to holiness, did indeed take a new and non-dualistic view of "the world". For all these reasons, I would have to say Vatican II's esteem for and protection of contemplative life more generally, and eremitic life more specifically, though often accomplished indirectly, is well established. 

Justifying the Existence of Contemplative and Eremitical Life:

In other words, I would suggest that any failure to esteem contemplative life generally and eremitical life more specifically comes from somewhere other than Vatican II itself, and that makes me wonder if contemplative life hasn't always been misunderstood in some significant ways, not least by drawing a hard line between heaven and earth and treating the world outside the monastery or hermitage as profane. In any case, I would argue that the reasons for this are not due to Vatican II itself. So, how does contemplative life generally, and solitary eremitical life more specifically, serve the Church and the larger world? How can we justify its existence, especially if it is not escapist or individualistic? I have been writing about this under the label, "existential solitude", or interior solitude,  and the call to explore this, so let me just summarize my position on this here.

Every human being is constituted in a state of existential solitude. This solitude is inviolable, and no one can enter into it with us, no matter how close our relationship with them is. This state of existential solitude means that at the depths of our being, in the very center of our lives, we exist alone with God (though most people may be consciously unaware of God dwelling in the depths of their being). Whether we are consciously aware of this or not, this is how we are constituted as human beings, and it is in coming to terms with this specific solitude that we become authentic human beings capable of loving God, ourselves, and others. (By the way, this foundational relationship, which is intrinsic to human existence, is the source of the Church's teaching on the inviolability of conscience.) Contemplatives, and especially hermits, are committed to plumbing the depths of this existential solitude, to finding God there where he resides closer to us than we are even to ourselves, and witnessing for the sake of others to both God and the nature of authentic human being. 

When Benedictines, for example, enter a monastery, they do so to "seek God". They do this not because God is not "out there" in the world, or because God is tucked away here in this monastery, needing to be found in the sacred place rather than the profane world! No! In light of the Christ Event, both the monastery and "the world" are sacred places! Instead, people come to the monastery to seek God because he is within us, deep, deep within us, and because the journey to the depths of ourselves takes time, patience, courage, determination, encouragement, and thus, various forms of structure and support. In particular, it takes the faith community and sacramental life of the Church along with the canonical structures, which provide for a stable state of life in which this journey to the depths of our being may be securely undertaken. The Church serves the c 603 hermit in this way so that s/he may undertake this journey that reveals human beings (and God as well) for who they really are. 

There are so many sources of (mis)understanding regarding what constitutes truly human existence in our world today. The hermit and contemplative life provide one radically countercultural definition. This vision stresses every person's existential aloneness and, at the same time, the communal nature of every human life. Merton was worried Vatican II would destroy any sense we each have that the inner journey to the center of ourselves must be made by every person in whatever state of life they live their humanity. When he used terms like, "activistic, antimystical, and antimetaphysical Christian consciousness", he was concerned individuals would no longer see the quest for union with God as essential to every Christian life, no matter the value of their active ministry. My sense is that Vatican II gave us a more robust access to Scripture and to a Jesus whose humanity was rooted in faithful prayer (i.e., dialogue with God at every level of his being) and expressed in his active ministry and life with others, as well as in his regular turn to solitude. Both of these revealed Jesus' union with God and the nature of divinity and humanity. Contemplatives, and especially hermits, live our lives dedicated to the dialogue with God that constitutes the core of authentic humanity. We each make this profound and profoundly humanizing journey over long years, and witness to this constitutive relationship for the sake of all of God's creation. That is the primary value of our lives.

Third Sunday of Easter: Made Fully Human in Dialogue with God in Christ

Sunday's Gospel includes the pericope where Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves him. It is the first time we hear much about or from Peter since his triple denial of Christ --- his fear-driven affirmations that he did not even know the man and is certainly not a disciple of his. After each question and reply by Peter, Jesus commissions Peter to "feed my lambs, feed my sheep." 

I have written about this at least three times before. About four or five years ago, I used this text to reflect on the place of conscience in our lives and a love which transcends law. At another point, I spoke about the importance of Jesus' questions and of my own difficulty with Jesus' question to Peter. It was in light of that reflection that I came to see that we love God as the commandment calls us to do, by allowing God to love us fully and exhaustively! We love God by letting God be the One he wills to be for and with us! Then, several years ago, at the end of the school year, I asked the students to imagine what it feels like to have done something for which one feels there is no forgiveness possible and then to hear how an infinitely loving God deals with that. The solution is not, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer would have termed it, "cheap grace" --- a forgiveness without cost or consequences. Neither is it a worthless "luv" which some in the Church mistakenly disparage because they hear (they say) too many homilies about the God of Love and mercy and not enough about the God of "justice". Instead, what Jesus reveals in this lection is a merciful love which overcomes all fear and division and summons us to incredible responsibility and freedom. The center of this reading, in other words, is a love which does justice and sets all things right.

But, especially at this time in the church's life, today's Gospel also takes me to the WAY Jesus loves Peter. He addresses him directly; he asks him questions and allows him to discover an answer which stands in complete contrast to and tension with his earlier denials and the surge of emotions and complex of thoughts that prompted them. As with Peter, Jesus' very presence is a question or series of questions which have the power to call us deeper, beyond our own personal limitations and conflicts, to the core of our being. What Jesus does with Peter is engage him at a profound level of heart --- a level deeper than fear, deeper than ego, beyond defensiveness and insecurity. Jesus' presence enables dialogue at this profound level, dialogue with one's true self, with God, and with one's entire community; it is an engagement which brings healing and reveals that the capacity for dialogue is the deepest reflection of our humanity.

It is this deep place in us that is the level for authentically human decision making. When we perceive and act at this level of heart, we see and act beyond the level of black and white thinking, beyond either/or judgmentalism. Here we know paradox and hold tensions together in faith and love. Here we act in authentic freedom. Jesus' dialogue with Peter points to all of this and to something more. It reminds us that loving God is not a matter of "feeling" some emotion --- though indeed it may well involve this. Instead, it is something we are empowered in dialogue with the Word and Spirit of God to d,o which transcends even feelings; it is a response realized in deciding to serve, to give, to nourish others in spite of the things happening to us at other levels of our being.

When we reflect on this text involving a paradigmatic dialogue between Peter and Jesus, we have a key to understanding the nature of all true ministry, and certainly to life and ministry in the Church. Not least, we have a significant model of papacy. Of course, it is a model of service, but it is one of service only to the extent it is one of true dialogue, first with God, then with oneself, and finally with all others. It is always and everywhere a matter of being engaged at the level of the heart, and so, as already noted, beyond ego, fear, defensiveness, black and white thinking, judgmentalism, or closed-mindedness to a place where one is comfortable with paradox. As John Paul II wrote in Ut Unum Sint, "Dialog has not only been undertaken; it is an outright necessity, one of the Church's priorities, " or again, "It is necessary to pass from antagonism and conflict to a situation where each party recognizes the other as a partner. . .any display of mutual opposition must disappear." (UUS, secs 31 and 29)

But what is true for Peter is, again, true for each of us. We must be engaged at the level of the heart and act in response to the dialogue that occurs there. Because of the place of the Word of God in this process, lectio divina, the reflective reading of Scripture, needs to be a part of our regular praxis. So too with prayer, especially quiet prayer whose focus is listening deeply and being comfortable with that often-paradoxical truth that comes to us in silence. Our humanity is meant to be a reflection of this profound dialogue. At every moment we are meant to be a hearing of Jesus' question and the commission to serve that it implies. At every moment, we are to be the response that transcends ego, fear, division, judgmentalism, and so forth. Engagement with the Word of God enables such engagement, engagement from that place of unity and communion with God and others that Jesus' questions to Peter allowed him to find and live from. My prayer today is that each of us may commit to be open to this kind of engagement. It helps us realize our dialogical nature and leads to the full realization of that New Creation which is truly "not of this world" but instead is of the Kingdom of God --- right here, right now.