Feast of the Visitation (Reprise with Update)

Jump for Joy  by Eisbacher

Today's Gospel is wonderfully joy-filled and encouraging: Mary travels in haste to visit her kinswoman Elizabeth and both women benefit from the meeting which culminates in John's leaping in his mother's womb and prophetic speech by both women. The first of these is Elizabeth's proclamation that Mary is the Mother of Elizabeth's Lord and the second is Mary's canticle, the Magnificat. Ordinarily, homilists focus on Mary in this Gospel lection but I think the focus is at least as strongly on Elizabeth and also on the place the meeting of the two women has in allowing them both to negotiate the great mystery which has taken hold of their lives. Both are called on to offer God hospitality in unique ways; both are asked to participate in God's mysterious plan for his creation despite not wholly understanding this call and it is in their coming together that the trusting fiats they each made assume a greater clarity for them both.

Luke's two volumes (Luke-Acts) are actually full of instances where people come together and in their meeting or conversation with one another come to a fuller awareness of what God is doing in their lives. We see this on the road to Emmaus where disciples talk about the Scriptures in an attempt to come to terms with Jesus' scandalous death on a cross and the end of all their hopes. They are joined by another person who questions them about their conversation and grief. When they pause for a meal they recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread and their entire world is turned on its head. That which was senseless is on its way to making a profound sense which will ground the existence of the church. Peter is struggling with the issue of eating with the uncircumcised; he comes together with Cornelius, a Centurion with real faith in Christ. In this meeting, Peter is confirmed in his sense that in light of Christ no foods are unclean, and eating with Gentiles is Eucharistic. There are a number of other such meetings where partial perception and clarity are enhanced or expanded. Even the Council of Jerusalem is a more developed instance of the same phenomenon.

On Spiritual Friendship, both formal and informal:

I personally love Eisenbacher's picture above because it reminds me of one privileged expression of such spiritual friendship, namely that of spiritual direction. I can remember many meetings with my own director where there was immense surprise and joy at the sharing involved, but one time in particular stands out --- especially in light of today's Gospel. I had experienced a shift in my experience of celibacy. Where once it mainly spoke to me of dimensions of my life that would never be fulfilled (motherhood, marriage, etc), through a particular prayer experience it had come to be associated instead with espousal to Christ and my own sense of being completed and fulfilled as a woman. 

As I recall, when I met with my director to share about this experience (c. 1983), I spoke softly about it, carefully, a little bashfully --- especially at first; but I also gained strength and greater confidence in the sharing of it. (I was not uncertain as to the nature of what I had experienced, but sharing it allowed it to claim me more completely and let me claim a new sense of myself in light of it.) My director listened carefully, and only then noted that she had always prayed for such a grace for all her novices (she had been novice director for her congregation); she then excused herself and left briefly. When she returned she had a CD and CD player with her. Together we sat quietly, but joyfully and even a bit tearfully celebrating what God had done for us while we listened to John Michael Talbot's Canticle of the Bride.

New This Year:

Pregnancy comes in different forms. Midwifery and even Motherhood do as well! As noted in an earlier post, this year today's feast is marked by a foundational shift of healing within my deepest self, and so too, a shift in my relationships with God, my own deepest self, my director, and many others. Six years ago this Friday I began an intense form of inner work with Sister Marietta and during the weeks between Easter and Pentecost, our work reached both a crisis and a climax leading to this shift. Both dimensions of this event required a struggle against death (that too comes in various forms) and full engagement with the coming of new life. It has taken several weeks to assess the depth and quality of the healing accomplished (a kind of counting the fingers and toes of the newly born), and now that we are certain of it, it is time to celebrate these last six years, the grace of God, all the hard work, struggle, faithfulness, and all the love --- it took us to get to this point. 

 

We will do this in several ways of course (including continuing our work together in a new key), but this next Saturday it means going out to share a meal together, not merely as accompanist and accompanied, or delegate and hermit, but as friends and companions on the journey shaped by the same values and similar commitments, similar grief and grace. Friendship (especially when it is shaped as Sisterhood in service to our God and his People) is a precious gift of God and one I hope never to take for granted! This year, on the Feast of the Sacred Heart (a special Feast for me anyway), I will also celebrate the admission to temporary vows under c 603 of one Sister I have been working with from the UK. With her bishop's approval, we will continue working together to prepare for her perpetual profession in three years' time. Pregnancy comes in different forms; so do mothering and midwifery. Last year I shared the following poem to mark the year's work and the relationships that made it possible. This year it is even more profoundly true. Thanks be to God!

As Mary faced

        her unexpected future

And hastened to Elizabeth,

        who was similarly expecting,

and shared with her

her hopes,

 her dreams,

  her concerns,

  her fears;

spoke frankly as sisters

 about their love of God,

   about their future,

  about  their commitment

  to God's mission,

  so we two come together today,

   speaking the truth

   in love and faith,

   and God is with us.

Summary:

 

Elizabeth and Mary come together as women both touched in significant ways by the mystery of God. They have trusted God but are not yet completely clear regarding the greater mystery or how this experience fits into the larger story of Israel's redemption. They are both in need of one another and especially of the perception and wisdom the other can bring to the situation so that they can truly offer God and God's plan all the space and time these require. Hospitality, especially giving God hospitality, takes many forms, but one of the most important involves coming together to share how God is active in our lives in the hope of coming to a greater and more life-giving perspective, faith, and commitment. It is in coming together in this way that we clarify, encourage, challenge, and console one another. It is in coming together in this way that we become the prophetic presence in our world God calls us to be.  The gift of being able to "speak frankly" as sisters (and brothers) is an inestimable gift of God. Let us all be open to serving as friends to one another in this sense. It is an essential dimension of being Church and of the coming of the Kingdom of God.

On Love, Healing, Deep Happiness and Classical Gas!!

There are times when we need to celebrate and find ways to simply say how truly and deeply happy we are. This Easter season up to Pentecost has been one I need to celebrate especially because it brought significant healing. (More about this later; I am not ready to blog about it yet -- nor do I know if it will ever really be "right" or helpful to others to share this.) At today's Mass I was caught up by the affirmation, [[only say the Word and my soul will be healed]] and was struck afresh by the deep happiness God's healing has occasioned in me. The above piece --- something I once played myself on both guitar and violin --- says "deep happiness", along with memories from all through my life as God touched and called, consoled, challenged, and healed. Praise God!!! With Classical Gas I can share now a little of the feeling and profound energy of deep happiness, so I hope you love it as much as I do. 

On Inner Work and becoming Transparent to God (Reprise with Introduction)

I got repeated questions this week on the inner work I speak of so I decided to put the following piece from not quite a year ago up again. Behind it is the approach to growth work known as PRH (Personality and human relationships). What is essential to PRH is the recognition that human beings are wounded in relationship, and heal and grow in the same way. While it may sound strange to hear a hermit participating in such inner or growth work given this focus, much less depending on it as a key to growing in the silence of solitude, eremitical hiddenness, etc., I assure you it is not! For more on this inner or growth work I speak of, please see other posts with the same labels as this post.  Anyway, on to the post:

Sister, when you write about stricter separation from the world does the inner work you have been doing have a place in it? As I read your last post entitled, "Why isn't it enough?" I thought I got, just for a moment, a glimpse of why that would be important not only so you could live as a hermit, but also as an integral part of the eremitical life. This glimpse came and went in a flash so I can't say more about what I mean but maybe you know just what I am trying to say here. I know you have been criticized by readers in the past for needing to do such work and that you wrote it was integral to your vocation. I think re-reading your last post helped me understand this a little better because I saw you, and myself, and everyone else as having been distorted by the world and needing to do the inner work you speak of to become more clearly ourselves. That was the glimpse I got while reading what you were saying. I don't know if this is something you could write about, but my question is do I have this right? Does the inner work you speak of allow you to become "transparent to God" (your phrase) as you become more truly yourself?

Thanks for your questions. Yes, I definitely think you got it!!! The post you referred to re criticism of my own engagement in what I call "inner work" is found here: On Justifying Inner Work and it contains other links to related articles. It was also prompted by my discovery that the inner work I had been doing for a couple of years at that point might have shown me I had made a mistake in my discernment of an eremitical vocation; instead, it affirmed this vocation again and again. And regarding your second question, YES!!! Absolutely, the inner work is part of what allows me to become transparent to God as I become more truly myself. This transparency to God is the very nature of what it means to be truly human, so the more truly human I become, the more transparent to God. 

We speak about this phenomenon of transparency in a number of ways. The main ones affirm us as imago dei, and incarnations of the Word of God -- especially to the extent we live in light of and through Christ!! I believe the story of Jesus' Transfiguration is a story of his (eventually!!) perceived transparency to God by the chosen disciples. Recently Sister Susan gave me a mirror medallion developed by Richard Rohr. I believe that this too reflected (no pun intended) the notion of becoming transparent to God. It also reminds us that others are, to varying degrees, also transparent to God. The side of the mirror medallion facing one's own heart/self has a symbol of the Trinity on it; it represents the gaze of God and the way God sees us at every moment; the side facing outward is a plain mirror reflecting everything as it is without distortion or judgment. Rohr had experienced the Trinity as a dynamic reality moving through him --- in and out. This experience developed into a practice of receiving beauty and breathing it back out to others. I recognize it as a symbol of transparency to God and to being the imago dei to others, one who sees as God sees and also one who is seen as God sees.

Transparency is something that happens, something we become as more and more we become persons who allow the presence of God to be mediated through and in us. Transparency is a means of revelation, but also of standing truly and honestly as our deepest selves. God seeks to reveal Godself at every moment and mood of our lives and in many ways, we occlude or distort that revelation. Part of all of that "occlusion" comes from our own woundedness and the resulting fear of allowing God (and sometimes, anyone at all) to love us and fill us with God's life and light. Sometimes we have lost so much in trying to be open and trust or love that we cling tightly to the superficial image of who we truly are, even when that "self" is but an echo of who we once were and a shadow of who we are truly called to be. Letting go to allow something so marked by newness, dynamism (change!!), and Mystery, is simply terrifying. And so, when people look at us, they mainly see echoes and shadows, scars, woundedness, and diminishment because that is all we feel free enough to allow ourselves to reveal.

Pope Francis Says Vespers with the
Camaldolese Nuns and Monks in Rome

Sometimes our failure to allow the transparency and revelation God yearns for with each of us comes from other forms of rigidity and arrogance. We believe we know who God is because we were taught about who God is in religion or theology classes. We take refuge in formulae and rituals which at least as easily distance us from the real God as they draw us closer. We have learned these things, sometimes with great effort, and we feel safe with them where the "living God" is more Mysterious and awesome (terrifying) even while he is also intriguing to us (mysterium tremendum et fascinans); they are therefore hard to let go of and can occlude the revelation of the living God we are meant to become. It is the "inner work" I have written about several times now that allows the necessary healing and strengthening of ourselves so that we can live from our deepest potential and love as we are meant to love.

Because God is the source of the potential I am speaking of, and we are the persons who are created as we listen to and respond to that source, we are never ourselves alone (except to the extent we are sinners or impaired by the sin that has touched us) because God is a constituent dimension of who we are. The more truly ourselves we become, the more clearly and truly present God becomes within us. We become more and more transparent to the God who is, as Tillich put the matter, the ground and source of our being. God is not alien to us, nor is God some sort of weird or supernatural parasite within us. When we speak of God dwelling within us, we are speaking of something that is most deeply and truly an essential or fundamental part of ourselves. We cannot be "us" (or even alive at all) without this presence and the opposite is also true: the more we become our truest selves, the clearer and stronger this presence within us becomes. We are truly ourselves, truly holy and truly human when people look at us and see God in everything we are and do. This is what revelation is about and it is what transparency is about. 

The inner work I and others do and that I write about here, allows this to be realized in our lives and all we touch!! It allows us to be healed of all of those forms of woundedness that cripple or otherwise limit us and it opens us to the deepest potential that is ours so that we can live from that for the sake of others. Once I thought of this work as something I could do and finish with so that I could live my vocation as I am called to do. Now I understand that this inner work is part of the "asceticism" or even "penance" that necessarily accompanies my prayer and is essential to my vocation. In other words, I will not finish it -- though I will move through different stages of this work at various times throughout my life; instead, I will continue doing it as a foundational practice because in conjunction with prayer, as you say, it is essential to my vocation and does indeed allow me to become transparent to God ---  which is the essence of eremitical hiddenness, and the goal of my call to holiness and creation as imago dei.

What Do You Like Most about Eremitical Life? (Updated)

I was asked the following question again this last week and rather than trying to answer it again and anew, I am reprising the original answer from 8 years ago and adding one more paragraph to update it. 

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I wondered if you could explain what you like best about the eremitical life? Since you don't do a lot of active ministry that would provide variety, I am assuming that is not a favorite part, so what is? Maybe this is not the best way to ask the question. I guess I am really wondering what part of your life is most enriching or what part you look forward to every day especially if every day is the same because of your schedule. I hope you can understand what I am asking here. Thank you.]]

Now that is a challenging question! It is not challenging because I don't know what I look forward to each day or really like, but because there is no one thing I like best. I guess saying that out loud gives me the key to answering your question then.  What I like best about eremitical life is the way I can relate to God and grow in, with, and through him in this vocation. This is also a way of saying I like the way this vocation allows me to serve the Church and world despite or even through the limitations I also experience. Each of the elements of my life helps in this and some days I like one thing more than another but still, that is because each one contributes to my encounter with God --- usually in the depths of my own heart --- in different ways, to different degrees, on different days.

So, on most days I love the silence and solitude and especially I love quiet prayer periods or more spontaneous times of contemplative prayer which intensify these and transform them into the silence of solitude --- where I simply rest in God's presence or, in the image I have used most recently, rest in God's gaze. It is here that I come to know myself as God knows me and thus am allowed to transcend the world's categories, questions, or judgments. Sometimes these periods are like the one prayer experience I have described here in the past. But whether or not this is true, these periods are ordinarily surprising, or at least never the same; they are transformative and re-creative even when it takes reflective time to realize that this has been happening.

Another thing that I do each day which is usually something I really love is Scripture, whether I do that as part of lectio or as a resource for study or writing. Engagement with Scripture is one of the "wildest rides" I can point to in my life. It is demanding, challenging, and often exhilarating. Sometimes it doesn't speak to me in any immediately dramatic way. But it works on my heart like water on something relatively impervious --- gradually, insistently, and inevitably. Other times, for instance when reading Jesus' parables or other's stories about Jesus, or even the theological reflection of John and Paul, I have the sense that I am being touched by a "living word" and brought into a different world or Kingdom in this way. It always draws me in more deeply and even when I have heard a story or passage thousands of times before something speaks to me on some level in a new way, leads to a new way of understanding reality, or shows me something I had never seen before.

A third piece of this life I love and look forward to is the writing I do. Some of this is specifically theological and there is no doubt that my grappling with Scripture is important for driving at least some of my writing. Whether the writing is the journaling I do for personal growth work, the blogging I do which, in its better moments is an exploration of canon 603 and its importance, a reflection on Scriptures I have been spending time with, or the pieces which can be labeled "spirituality," they tend to be articulations of what happens in prayer and in my own engagement with Christ. One topic I spend time on, of course, is reflection on the place of eremitical life under canon 603 in the life of the Church herself. Since I am especially interested in the possibility of treating chronic illness as a vocation to proclaim with one's life the Gospel of Jesus Christ with a special vividness, and since I have come to understand eremitical solitude as a communal or dialogical reality which is especially suited to the transfiguration of the isolation associated with chronic illness, etc, I write a lot about canon 603 and the solitary eremitical vocation.

A second area of theology I return to again and again is the theology of the Cross. I remember that when I first met with Archbishop (then Bishop) Allen Vigneron he asked me a conversation-starter kind of question about my favorite saint. I spoke about Saint Paul (wondering if perhaps I shouldn't have chosen someone who was not also an Apostle --- someone like St Benedict or St Romuald or St John of the Cross) and began to talk about his theology of the cross.  I explained that if I could spend the rest of my life trying to or coming to understand his theology of the cross I would be a happy camper. (I have always wondered what Archbishop Vigneron made of this unexpected answer!)

I saw incredible paradoxes and amazing beauty in the symmetries and strangely compelling asymmetries of the cross and I still discover dimensions I had not seen. Most recently one of these was the honor/shame dialectic and the paradox of the glory of God revealed in the deepest shame imaginable. I have written previously about God being found in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. This paradox is a deepening of that insight. The Cross is the Event which reveals the source even as it functions as the criterion of all the theology we have that is truly capable of redeeming people's lives. It is the ultimate source of the recent theology I did on humility as being lifted up to be seen as God sees us beyond any notions of worthiness or unworthiness. My life as a hermit allows me to stay focused on the cross in innumerable ways, not only intellectually (reading and thinking about this theology), but personally, spiritually, and emotionally. That is an incredible gift which the Church --- via the person of Archbishop Vigneron and the Diocese of Oakland --- has given me in professing and consecrating me as a diocesan hermit.

There are other things I love about eremitical life (not least the limited but still significant (meaningful) presence and ministry in my parish (or in other dioceses and faith communities); today I continue to teach Scripture and it colors everything else I do, whether in cell or outside it); both teaching and spiritual direction (including work with candidates for c 603 profession) are also related in one way and another to the person I am in light of living contemplatively within the Divine dialogue I know as the silence of solitude. One of the things which is especially important to me is the freedom I have to live my life as I discern God wills (cf added paragraph below).

Whether I am sick or well, able to keep strictly to a schedule or not, I have the sense that I live this life by the grace of God and that God is present with me in all of the day's moments and moods. It doesn't matter so much if writing goes well or ill, if prayer seems profound or not, if the day is tedious or exciting, all of it is inspired, all of it is what I am called to and I am not alone in it. This means that it is meaningful and even that it glorifies God. I try to live it well, of course, and I both fail and succeed in that, but I suppose what I love best is that it is indeed what I am called to live in and through Christ. It is the way of life that allows me to most be myself in spite of the things that militate against that; moreover it is the thing which allows me to speak of my life in terms of a sense of mission.  The difficulty in pointing to any one thing I most like about eremitical life is that, even if in the short term they cause difficulty, struggle, tedium, etc., all of the things that constitute it make me profoundly happy and at peace. I think God is genuinely praised and glorified when this is true.

Sister Marietta Fahey, SHF

I want to add one more paragraph to this piece that was first published in 2015. On June 2nd, I begin the 8th year of a relatively intense kind of personal formation and growth work (PRH) with my Director. Spiritual direction was always important to me, but this particular kind of work was not. I resisted it and though it was written into my Rule because I recognized something of its importance, I struggled to value it appropriately. Today, I need to note that, for the purposes of living this life well and coming to love the work itself, a very big shift has taken place. I now associate the freedom of the eremitical life with the freedom to do and benefit from this kind of work. It is central to my vocation. Every day it is a means by which God works in my life to heal and strengthen, to challenge, console, and just generally to call me to wholeness and holiness in Christ. There is no other part of my life as a hermit that this work does not touch or qualify toward greater depth and maturity. It is part of my prayer, my penance, and is absolutely necessary for achieving the silence of solitude I recognize as the goal and charism of this life; daily it schools me to obedience, to becoming truly attentive and responsive in a contemplative key. It is central to my encounters with God and my own deepest Self every single day. Days on which I meet with my director are especially graced --- even when they are particularly difficult, painful, grief-filled or joy-filled and triumphant (and sometimes they are all of these during the same session)! All of this leads me more and more into the inner reality of the silence of solitude and the communal life of the Trinity that are the goal and gift of eremitical life.

I hope this gives you something of an answer to your question. I have kind of worked my way through to an actual answer --- from the individual pieces of the life that are most life-giving to me to the reasons this life as a whole is something I love. I hope I have managed to convey that even when the schedule is the same day to day, the content is never really the same because at the heart of it is a relationship with the living and inexhaustible God. Your question focuses on the absence of variety and in some ways, the absence of novelty (neos). But really there is always newness rooted in the deeper, qualitative newness (kainotes) of God and of who I am called to be in God.

To catch a glimpse of what I mean by that, imagine plunging into the ocean at different points within a large circle. The surface looks the same from point to point but the world one enters in each dive is vastly different and differently compelling from place to place. So, following the same daily horarium (schedule), I sit in the same chair (or use the same prayer bench/zafu) to pray; I work at the same desk day in and day out. I open the same book of Scriptures and often read the same stories again and again or pray the same psalms, and so forth. I rise at the same hour each day, pray at essentially the same times, eat the same meals at the same hours, wear the same habit and prayer garment, make the same gestures and generally do the same things day after day. There is variation when I am ill or need to leave the hermitage, but in the main, it is a life of routine and sometimes even tedium. What is important to remember is that the eremitical life is really about what happens below the surface as one is empowered to open oneself to God, and allow (him) to become God-With-Us, even as (he) makes of us a new Creation. This really is where the action is, so to speak! It is the reason the classic admonition of the Desert Fathers, "Dwell (remain) in your cell and your cell will teach you everything," can be true and the only reason "custody of the cell" is such a high value in eremitical life or stability of place such a similarly high value in monasticism.

Diocesan Hermits and Religious Sisters: Supported by the Church?

[[Hi Sister, I wondered if you are taken care of like all religious Sisters are taken care of: housing, food and other needs met financially and otherwise, education, vacation, retreat, insurance, transportation, etc? Does your diocese and parish take care of you and pay you?]]

Thanks for your questions. I have to take exception to the way the question is phrased. It sounds to me like you are mistaken in your understanding of Religious Sisters and their relationship to their congregation or order, etc. If so, it is a common misunderstanding. If not, my apologies for mishearing you.

First, think of the Sisters' community or congregation (institute) as a large extended family with all members contributing what they can to the common purse through their own work, etc. A Sister will do this from the day she enters or is received to the day she truly retires. It is from this common purse that all of the Sisters, including those who are retired, infirm, etc., are cared for and all expenses are covered. Today, women religious have also paid into the social security fund and thus qualify for Social Security, Medicaid, and sometimes other aid. Remember that a congregation husbands the funds that come into them carefully so that all members have access to what they need to live and minister. 

Yes, that can include some forms of education (especially graduate level or other special training); most congregations today require candidates to have their undergraduate work done and be free of student loan debt before they enter the congregation. Even so, the money that comes to the congregation does so largely as a matter of the Sisters' earnings, careful investments, and some contributions or donations from benefactors. It is not so much that Sisters are "taken care of" as though they never work a day in their lives; rather, they join a really large extended family and work their entire adult lives supporting the "family" both in their living and in their ministering. 

More, Sisters serve on the leadership team of their congregation to make decisions for the group for the future. With the assistance of the whole congregation, they make major decisions regarding the buying and selling of property, health care, building funds, spiritual needs of the Sisters, ongoing presence and ministry of the congregation in the larger community, and more. A community I have written about in the last year or two is the Sisters of the Holy Family. They have been planning for the "completion" of their lives, both individually and as a congregation; in doing this they demolished their Motherhouse to construct some smaller cottages for the Sisters and gave over some of their property for low-income housing, a park, in-home health care for seniors and the Sisters (On Lok), etc. 

They worked with builders, contractors, architects, service providers, and caregivers as well as the City of Fremont over a period of years in bringing this series of projects to fruition. In all of this, the Sisters assured that the congregation's mission and charism would continue on even after all of the Sisters had gone home to God. All of this and more is supported by the Sisters themselves, from their own earnings, from donations, and from whatever prudent investments they make with those earnings and gifts. The Church does NOT support religious women any more than they support others' extended families in the diocese.

As for your question re me and other diocesan hermits, no, I am not supported by the Church or a religious congregation. Neither am I paid by my parish for the work I do there. I do spiritual direction on a sliding scale (which means some directees pay me something and others do not) and I receive money (SSI) due to disability. The diocese does not support me in any way, either financially, or via insurance coverage, housing, etc. The same is true for all diocesan hermits I know of. Each one supports him/herself as s/he can including housing, insurance, transportation, and so forth. The expenses I have for retreat, home visits, occasional workshops, etc come out of the money I save. (For religious Sisters belonging to a congregation their needs in these things are budgeted by the congregation for each Sister in a general way and the Sister then budgets for things in more specific ways. There are canonical requirements regarding retreat, for instance, so this is a congregational expense.)

I have answered this question before so you might also check out those answers. (I don't think they are much different, however, than what I have just written.) Also, for a more detailed account of what the Sisters of the Holy Family have done with their property in Fremont, CA check the labels to the right. The projects undertaken by the SHF are something I could not be prouder of; they speak really well of the strength, intelligence, and creativity of women religious in their faithfulness to the values they profess throughout their lives of generous ministry (especially religious poverty) even as they plan for completion. They deserve real respect for this.

A Contemplative Moment: Seeing the World with New Eyes

"The Desert: Transformation"

from The Eremitic Life

by

Cornelius Wencel, Er Cam

[[The Christian anchorite is not a gnostic, whose isolation from the world takes precedence in order that [she] can secure for [her]self the possibility of reaching "the land of pure spirituality". Such an approach is obviously an illusion which, detected too late, will certainly lead all who adopt it to spiritual disaster. Even provided we agree on the illusionary character of the created world, such an assumption may be justified only if we take into account its relativity. It is true that created things can deceive and beguile us, though it is not because they are deceitful all by themselves, but because the human heart, tangled up in webs of sin and greed, is eager to take pleasure and satisfaction in them. The anchorite never gives up and renounces the world of things out of contempt for them. [She] does so in order to achieve the inner space necessary to appreciate their real value and inner beauty.

Leaving the world and inner renunciation are the path to discovering the logic and truth of the created world. Fathoming inner structures and meanings, the hermit realizes still more clearly that the ultimate value of the world is not constituted by the world itself, but it transcends the world soundlessly. What is essential for human being is the perception of things that last and are eternal. What is needed is a certain distance providing space for authentic freedom of mind and heart, in order to perceive the world and all its problems in truth and love, which means in God. By finding the whole creation at its very Source, the hermit becomes the person able to contemplate. The hermit's contemplation of reality is [her] special way of perceiving it through the eyes of faith. This kind of perception reveals to [her]  the rays of God's magnificence and glory. . . .This truth, however, should be understood and proclaimed not just verbally or intellectually, but above all by means of humbly accepting the gift of our own existence. The acceptance of the gift brings about the inner necessity of giving it back to its donor in love. The need to make such a sacrifice is the essence of  Christian ascetic life and inner conversion.]]

Note: I chose this reading from Cornelius Wencel for several reasons. The main one has to do with the Solemnity of the Ascension and the way it demands that we learn to see everything with new eyes. The disciples had to get their eyes out of the clouds and onto the world newly constituted around them. In Christ, they (and we) are gradually taught to see all of reality with the eyes of an artist like Bro Mickey McGrath, osfs (see Solemnity of the Ascension). 

Reflection for the Solemnity of the Ascension: Seeing our New Creation with the Eyes of God (Reprise)

Sister Laurel O'Neal, Er Dio

In one of the Star Trek Next Generation episodes, Commander Geordi La Forge and Ensign Ro Larren are caught in a transporter accident. While returning to the ship, a surge of power or radiation causes them to "materialize" back on the Enterprise in a way where they cannot be seen or heard. The transporter pad looks empty; they seem to have been lost. Neither can they interact in their usual way with the ordinary world of space and time; for instance, they can walk through walls, reach through control panels or other "solid" objects, and stand between two people who are conversing without being perceived. The dimension of reality Geordi and Ro now inhabit interpenetrates the other more everyday world of space and time, and interfaces with it in some way without being identical with it. In other words, their new existence is both continuous and discontinuous with their old existence; Geordi and Ro are both present and absent at the same time. In Star Trek parlance this new way of being embodied is called, ”phased” -- because it is a presence slightly “out of phase with our own”. While their friends believe that Geordi and Ro are gone forever and begin to grieve, Geordi and Ro are still vitally present and they leave signs of this presence everywhere --- if only these can be recognized and their friends empowered to see them as they are.


Especially, I think this story helps us begin to imagine and think about what has been so important during all the readings we have heard during this Easter Season and is celebrated in a new and even more mysterious way with the feast of the Ascension. In these stories Jesus is present in a way which is both like and unlike, continuous and discontinuous with, normal existence; it is a presence which can be described as, and even mistaken for absence. Today’s first reading from Acts describes a difficult and demanding “departure” or “absence” but one which has the disciples misguidedly looking up into the skies --- something the angels upbraid them for. Meanwhile, the consoling and hope-filled word we are left with at the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel conveys the promise of an abiding presence which will never leave us. Jesus affirms, [[And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.]] In these readings, absence and Presence are held together in a strange tension.

We know that Resurrection itself represented the coming of something new, a new kind of expanded or less limited incarnation, a new embodied presence or materiality where Jesus can be encountered and recognized with the eyes of faith. What is made clear time and again as Jesus picnicked on the beach with his disciples, invited them to touch him, or even when he warns Mary of Magdala not to cling to him in this form, is that his resurrection is bodily. Yes, it is different from the kind of materiality Jesus had before his death. He is no longer mortal and so we are told he walks through walls and breaches locked doors or otherwise comes and goes without anyone seeing how. The gospel writers want us to understand that Jesus was not merely "raised" in our minds and hearts (though we will certainly find him there!); neither is the risen Jesus disembodied spirit or a naked immortal soul. Finally, he has not relinquished his humanity. God has raised the human Jesus to a new bodily life which is both earthly and heavenly.

Only in Luke’s version of the story is Ascension spoken of directly or treated as a separate event occurring 40 days after the resurrection. (Mark's Gospel originally ended short of the Ascension story.) Here Luke shifts our attention from Jesus’ continuing earthly but mysterious presence to his having been “taken up bodily into heaven”. But how can this be? We might be forgiven for thinking that surely the Star Trek story is easier to believe than this fantastical and incredible tale on which we base our lives! So, what is Luke doing here? What are we really celebrating on this feast?

What Luke and his original readers knew was that in the Scriptures, "Heaven” is a careful Semitic way of speaking about God’s own self --- just as the presence of clouds in today’s reading from Acts refers to the mysteriousness of God’s presence. Heaven is not a remote place in space one can locate with the proper astrometric instruments and coordinates; nor are unbelieving cosmonauts and hard-nosed empiricists the only ones to make such a mistake. After all, as we hear today, even the disciples need to have their attention drawn away from searching the skies and brought back to earth where Jesus will truly be found! Heaven refers to God’s own life shared with others.


Luke tells the story in a way that helps us see that in Christ God has not only conquered death, but (he) has made room for humanity itself (and in fact, for all of creation) within (his) own Divine life. Christ is the “first fruits” of this new way of existing where heaven (Divine Life) and earth (created life) now interpenetrate one another. God is present in our world of space and time now in a way he could not have been apart from Jesus’ openness and responsiveness (what the Scriptures call his “obedience”), and Jesus is present in a way he could not be without existing in God. Jesus’ own ministry among us continues as more and more, Jesus draws us each and all into that same Divine life in the power of the Holy Spirit of the Father and Son.


St John uses the puzzling language of mutual indwelling to describe this reality: "The Father is in me and I am in him" . . ." we know that we abide in him and he is in us." When theologians in both Western and Eastern churches speak of this whole dynamic, their summary is paradoxical and shocking: [[God became human so that humans might become gods]]. And as one contemporary Bible scholar puts the matter, “We who are baptized into Christ's death are citizens of heaven colonizing the earth.” As such, we are also called on to develop the eyes of faith that allow us to see this new world as it is shot through with the promise of fullness. Some of us experienced what this means Ascension week 2020.

Three years ago Bro Mickey McGrath, osfs visited our parish, and gave us a virtual tour of his Camden ‘hood by sharing the work he had drawn and painted from Holy Week onward during his own sheltering in place. Many of us got a chance to see the streets he walked every day through his eyes, that is, through the eyes of faith and love. What Bro Mickey showed us was not an idealized Camden without violence, poverty, suffering or struggle; those were all present. But through his eyes we saw the greenhouse cathedral of a neighborhood garden, the communion lines and Eucharistic Presence of the community food pantry, the way of the cross of a crippled man as he limped up the street, a broken and bold statue of Mary standing as a symbol of perseverance and hope despite everything, and another more contemporary version made even more beautiful by a prostitute's gift of a single flower. And everywhere reality that could have been accurately drawn in harsh tones of pain and struggle were more accurately shown awash with life, beauty, and hope splashed in colors of brilliant orange and purple, gold and green --- the colors of life, royalty, holiness, newness and potential.

Today’s Feast is not so much about the departure or absence of Jesus as it is his new, transfigured, universal, and even cosmic presence which in turn transforms everything it touches with the life of God. Again, as Matthew affirms in today's Gospel reading, [[. . . Behold, I am with you always, until the end of time.]] The world we live in is not the one that existed before Jesus’ death, and resurrection. Heaven and earth now interpenetrate one another in a way that may sound suspiciously to some like bad science fiction. We know its truth, however, whenever we can see this New Creation with the eyes of faith and love --- that is, whenever we can see ourselves and the world around us with the very eyes of God. It is the only way we will become disciples ourselves --- or truly make disciples of all nations.

Negative Reactions to Eremitical Life?

[[Dear Sr Laurel, Did you find, or do you still find that some people in your parish, family, or friends react rather negatively to the eremitic life? I am a quiet person and really only talk about the way I am living to those who ask. Perhaps that is because I am still in the early stages- finding my way, so to speak, and trying to explain with any depth or clarity is still a bit awkward. I have experienced some pushback from a few people that leave me wondering where they are coming from. It seems to me that at the heart of it all, the call to an eremitic life is an opportunity to renew one’s baptismal call not necessarily in a different way but rather the same way but to a more radical degree. I see it as occurring along a continuum but as I said more radical expression of what all Christians are called to do. Do you think that a person might take a negative stance because he/she feels challenged to herself move forward along the continuum and that presents an uncomfortable proposition???]]

Good to hear from you. Thanks for the question! While I agree with you on eremitic life being a chance to live one's baptismal commitment radically, I think we disagree on this way of life not being a different way of doing so than for most people. We are not speaking about adding a bit more silence or solitude, or praying a bit more assiduously; all that can be a matter of temperament as well as commitment. Eremitical life, it seems to me, is truly different, more radical --- yes, but also different in its goals, methods, and purpose than most ways of living out one's baptismal commitments. On the other hand, I do agree eremitical life speaks to every Christian regarding the living out of baptismal commitments and can encourage them to imagine just what these commitments might really mean beyond some nominal, not to say lukewarm, version of Christian faith and spirituality. So perhaps we are in greater agreement on this than I actually know.

I don't think I have experienced people not trusting eremitical life once they understand it -- even just a little more than slightly. Mainly, I have felt that if they trust me they trust my vocation too, even when they are still seeking to understand it from the outside in. In other words, if the hermit is credible and genuine, then folks will tend to see the vocation in the same way. Usually what people push back against are the stereotypes that distort the vocation --- images of solitude that are pious versions of individualism and isolation and should be rejected, for instance, or indications of self-centeredness and selfishness that can be combated with a bit of personal attention to others and the needs of the community along with an emphasis on the centrality of love in such vocations. Most of the time, though, I think folks hold the idea of "hermit" at arm's length while thinking of me as a contemplative nun instead. That is the result of not understanding the vocation and not even knowing the questions to ask to begin to understand better. When I first began considering c 603 I was coming from a place that thought eremitical life had become obsolete. I had long begun to outgrow the old sense I had once had that contemplative life was a waste of skin (left over from my Protestant background I think but also buttressed by the importance of ministerial religious life). I suspect a lot of people still hold those views --- though they don't tend to express them to me. Again, my bottom-line experience is that if people trust me, they trust my vocation. 

I will add to this that since I have begun working with occasional candidates for Canon 603 Profession, those few people who know about this work do ask more questions about eremitical life itself (we don't discuss the candidates, of course, except sometimes re what region of the country or world they come from). That there is a worldwide interest in the vocation and that it is slowly growing in the Church under c 603, does interest folks and they don't feel like they are asking too-personal questions at the same time. The pandemic also increased overt interest in eremitism and people asked me more questions (when I was actually around). Questions regarding healthy solitude, managing time alone, increasing or developing new approaches to prayer, learning to journal, etc are the kinds of questions I would get, especially at the beginning of the pandemic and correlative lockdowns.

I think there is a slim chance that folks who feel some call to eremitical life will push back against it. I guess I really believe the more prevalent reasons have to do with concerns regarding stereotypes, counterfeits, selfishness, and maybe not having enough sense of the vocation to even begin asking questions about it. I tend to find myself that candidates (or would-be candidates) for eremitical profession fall into three main categories, 1) serious candidates or inquirers --- those with a mature spirituality and the wisdom of experience that has led them to the desert, 2) romantics with naive senses of what the vocation is and entails including those looking for a sinecure, and 3) "nutcases" or eccentrics -- in this latter category I would include all kinds of people from those with significant mental illness to those who simply (or not so simply) want to use the vocation as a stopgap way to get professed despite being aware they do not have such a vocation.

In your regard (because you are a serious candidate for life as a hermit, and because I am sure people around you recognize that) what you may be experiencing is the tension between what people think they know about eremitical life (stereotypes, nutcases), and their own care and concern for you and your call by God to abundant life. It is unfortunate that many believe eremitical life to be narrow and cramped, with no room for creativity or realization of selfhood. Nothing could be further from the truth. Since, as you also mentioned, you are reading Cornelius Wencel's book The Eremitic Life you know, or will soon see, how strongly Wencel stresses the immense creativity of eremitic life along with its relationality and call to full personhood. Because of stereotypes and a strong sense of the inherent relationality of human beings, hermits often seem, at least initially, like they have embraced an anachronistic and anti-human life that could never be fulfilling or theologically justified. As the hermit grows in her vocation, these senses change for those who know her. I would bet some pushback comes from this fear for you among those who really care about or love you. Just saying!

On Baseline Values: Fundamentals and Diversity in Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sister, you recently wrote, "What is absolutely critical is that in some way the hermit writing the Rule combines the requirements of Canon 603 with her own life story, not because she cannot let go of her life before the hermitage, but because in every way, the Rule she is proposing to live indicates the continuation and fulfillment of a long journey towards redemption by God's love. It spells out a coherent way of living out the victory of that redemption as it has unfolded to bring her here and still continues to unfold in this new commitment." I was struck by a couple of things. First, your vision of solitary eremitical life as a continuation of a redemptive journey that began long before one reached the hermitage (or the hermitage stage), and secondly, that your Rule could not be used by anyone else; you were not writing for a group. 

In approaching the canon in this way, I really like the flexibility and personal integrity this allows for, but I was wondering how great is the danger of hermits who really aren't living the silence of solitude at all? If your Rule looks very different than that of another hermit, then who judges what hermit life really looks like? What happens if one person discerns a call to limited ministry as you have, and another says no to that? Won't people be confused by this? It seems a particular problem if no one spells out the baseline values for silence, solitude, prayer, penance, etc., so who does that? I don't mean hermits need to meet the kinds of rigorist qualities some have written about in the last several years --- you know, absolute silence, total hiddenness, and all of that -- but what does it mean to live a life of the silence of solitude (and the other elements of C 603) no matter who you are? Do you see what I mean? I also have some questions on time frames, temporary vs perpetual professions, and things like that, but I'll hold those for now. . .]]

Thanks for writing again. Your questions are very well-taken and I appreciate them. I will need to come back to parts of these in further posts. With Canon 603, as I have noted many times, we find a uniquely written canon that combines elements that are non-negotiable (that is, they must be defining terms of the hermit's life or s/he is not a Canon 603 hermit) and great flexibility, because these elements or terms are less legal terms with entirely fixed meanings, than they are gates or doorways to Mystery, specifically, the Mystery of Love-in-Communion. In other words, Canon 603 itself represents a vision of eremitic life that allows for room to grow, explore, make mistakes, make corrections, discern, submit to ongoing formation, consult, and so forth. The terms identified as non-negotiable are themselves mysteries more than terms with single, limited or common meanings --- especially when these meanings are set from the outside by those who know nothing of the life. Yes, there are foundational, "beginning," or common senses to these terms, and these foundational senses set a high bar for the hermit, but what is also true is that once one has truly entered the world of eremitism, once solitude has opened herself to the hermit and the hermit has accepted the invitation, these beginning senses open to even greater richness marked by paradox and surprise.  

One of the surprises is that each foundational term must be defined in terms of relationality (including that between oneself and 1) one's true or deep self, 2) one's God, 3) others, and 4) the whole of creation). Each term describes a living reality, dynamic in the way it opens us to it and itself to us. I have always loved Star Trek's various series and the opening of each series refers to the last frontier, identifying this with space, outer space. But hermits know the truth is different than this. The last frontier is inner space and from there, the inner life of God (him)self. What Canon 603 spells out, it seems to me, are the basic requirements for a person to make such a journey as a hermit: stricter separation from the world, assiduous prayer and penance, the silence of solitude, commitment to the evangelical counsels, an approved Rule of Life, lived in a desert context with supervision! (One piece of this single picture which will witness to all of the other elements is the hermit's stability and perseverance in cell -- more about this later). 

Remembering the importance of relationality, especially as one begins the inward journey in earnest and is tempted to mistake isolation for solitude or individualism for individuality; we need to stress that the reason one makes the journey is for the salvation of others. Alternately stated, the hermit makes the journey she makes in the way she does so that God might truly be the God he wishes to be, God-With-Us, (not simply God-With-her). Because the hermit's journey, that is, the way she uniquely poses the question of existence with her own life involves a particular desert quality, the way God is Emmanuel will correspond and be revealed in her life in a different way than occurs in the life of a ministerial religious, for instance. This difference must be evident. And yet, this life is lived for the sake of God and God's entire creation; relationality stands at the center of the hermit's life just as it does for any Christian.

As you well note, all of this requires certain baseline values for the terms of the canon. There must be external silence and physical solitude and there must be "enough" of these in the right configurations to provide a context for and support such an incredible inner journey. At this level of these terms, there must be silence and solitude sufficient to define the hermit's world in visible or identifiable ways and allow other elements to do the same, but which, at the same time, are not confused with the end or purpose of the life itself. Silence and solitude need not be absolute, for the measure of the hermit is not the degree of external silence or (physical) solitude she embraces, important as these are, but the journey they help facilitate into (and of) her deep self and the very Life of God. The same is true of the other elements; they must be sufficiently definitive of the life the hermit is living to allow for the specific journey the hermit is proposing to make with her life. At the same time, these defining elements are not to be absolutized but rather are meant to serve the goal of allowing God to be God-With-Us and Us to be completed in God for the sake of others. 

You asked if the diversity of vocations will be confusing to folks. I think that is doubtful so long as the dioceses who have hermits show real care in their discernment and each vocation shows clear signs of being defined by the constitutive elements of the canon. (No more professing "hermits" who live contemplative lives on the weekends alone while working highly social jobs during the week, or those for whom the term "hermit" is merely a metaphor describing personal eccentricity and a failure to "fit in"!!) Perhaps more importantly, I don't believe folks will be confused so long as the vocations they are exposed to are healthy, vital vocations centered in Christ and clear embodiments of Canon 603. I don't think any hermit I know believes they live eremitical life the only way it can be lived. There has always been diversity in such vocations. We each recognize that while we must and do live the defining elements of the vocation as faithfully and paradigmatically as God calls us to do, variations in the appearance of the vocation are possible depending upon how God works in a particular life. 

So who decides about all of this? The hermit does this with the assistance of her delegate and spiritual director. The bishop and diocesan staff who help discern such vocations also discern whether the vocation in front of them rises to the level of an ecclesial eremitical vocation or not --- is this person really living a life defined by the silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, stricter separation from the world, and so forth and are they called to live this in the name of the Church? What needs to be strengthened if this is so, for instance? In what ways does the person still need to grow into the vocation in order to make an initial or even a definitive profession and what will assist in that? How have things changed for this hermit in the past several years in her continuing faithful response to God's eremitical call? Finally, if the diocese is being assisted by a mentor who is already c 603, then s/he will be helping in this same discernment. 

After perpetual profession the hermit is assisted by her delegate, spiritual director, bishop (this will be true less frequently in most cases), and others with the expertise needed. She will speak with other hermits, and of course, first, last, and in between, she will pray regarding the way she perceives God calling her. Folks will need to be able to trust that there is a framework in place for all of this precisely because she is living an ecclesial vocation; if there are concerns, these will need to be brought to the hermit and (usually through her) to those involved in assisting her to live her vocation with integrity. Sometimes clearing up such concerns is merely a matter of educating folks about what a hermit is and what eremitical life looks like apart from entrenched stereotypes and imposed rigidities by those truly unfamiliar with the life. And sometimes, the diocese itself will learn from such conversations and find ways to take more care in their discernment of such important vocations! Hopefully, however, the hermit's place in the faith community will be strengthened and she will be supported to grow in her vocation as she, in the silence of solitude, witnesses to the sufficiency of God alone to complete us as human beings!!

I hope this is helpful! Definitely get back to me with your questions on time frames, etc.

A Look at the Coronation of King Charles III: Hiddenness at the Service of Mystery

Sorry to have been out of touch for a week or so. I came down with something last weekend, spiked a high temp (103.1+), and just have been returning to normal. No worries, everything seems to be resolving even if it is slowly so, and my temp is back to normal or nearly so. (I have now tested for COVID and the results were negative. YAY!! Will repeat the test tonight to verify the results.)

One of the things I did recently (before the temp spiked!) that was more than a bit out of the ordinary was to watch the coronation of King Charles III. I had seen the coronation of  Queen Elizabeth II when I was just shy of 4 yo and it was a memorable occasion viewed on a small black and white TV. It may even have contributed to my response to Catholic liturgy when I was in my teens. In any case, I knew I wanted to watch this coronation even though it meant losing most of a night's sleep to do so. I am not sorry I did. And, while it was all beautifully done and moving (the 3&1/2-year-old still inside me seemed gobsmacked at the COLOR and the horses!!!), one moment especially stood out, not only because it differed from the coronation of Charle's Mother, or because the symbolism was incredibly well-done, but because it was the holiest moment of the coronation per se. 

In 1953 when it came time for Queen Elizabeth II to be anointed, a large gold canopy was moved over her and people stood looking away from her. TV cameras were somehow blocked from any real view of what was happening and I remember trying to see under the canopy and being puzzled by it all. The Queen had been divested of all of her regal finery and was wearing a (relatively) simple white dress. But then came this great canopy and the commentators were talking (more softly I seemed to remember) about something I could neither see nor understand. What I did register somewhere deep within myself was the gravity of the moment, especially as steps were taken to shield the queen, and what was happening to her, from view --- even in the midst of a great throng of interested and supportive people.

Move forward 70 years. Charles III is similarly stripped down to his pants and a simple white shirt. The royal finery is folded and carried away for the moment. Members of the household guard carry in three large decorated screens, the poles which will hold them in place, and assemble them around the King with an opening toward the high altar. There is no canopy, but the King is hidden even more entirely than his Mother had been. As a really nice touch, the household guards face away from the screens except for those holding the poles in place. All have their eyes averted, looking down at the ground. In the midst of this huge cathedral, innumerable digital cameras, people hungry to see every last detail, thousands of guests, and millions of onlookers via media, the Royal family and the Church of England have managed to say clearly, [[Here at the heart of our monarchy is something hidden and inviolable, something incontestably intimate and sacred, something dynamic, living, that --- through the mediation of the church --- occurs between God and the monarch him or herself.]]

It was striking to me that the most profound and profoundly mysterious moment of the coronation was marked by hiddenness. At this moment when the King was anointed, it was hiddenness that was the most powerfully articulate expression of and witness to Mystery. In a ritual enveloped by layers and layers of pomp and color, history and tradition, ritual and symbolism, here was a moment in which an individual temporarily enclosed and shielded from the eyes of others, went into the hiddenness of his own heart and, despite the presence of priests, soldiers, family, and the nations of the world, was alone with his God, seeking and consenting to allow God to do what only God could do, namely, to consecrate him for service to God, his Church, and his people. All of the pomp and pageantry paled for me in comparison to Charles in his simple pants and plain white shirt assenting to being enclosed in the hiddenness of this sacred-making moment. That was underscored for me when I learned that Charles had asked for greater hiddenness than the canopy had allowed his Mother and others in the past.

There are numerous reasons for embracing some degree of hiddenness. They can be good or bad, desirable or undesirable, worthy or unworthy of us. Hermits choose a life of relative hiddenness which serves in significant ways as a witness to Mystery at the heart of life. They choose, not hiddenness as an end in itself, but Mystery and participation in Mystery. They choose hiddenness indirectly because, as was true for Charles III, this is a privileged context for meeting the living God and letting ourselves be vulnerable to him. Today, I am particularly grateful to have seen this value chosen and celebrated by Charles III for the sake of an encounter with the living God. Charles put hiddenness at the service of a moment of ineffable intimacy with Mystery which pomp and ceremony needed to be made to serve. It was liturgy very well done!

A Contemplative Moment: Sometimes

Sometimes

by David Whyte

Sometimes

if you move carefully

through the forest

breathing

like the ones

in the old stories

who could cross

a shimmering bed of dry leaves

without a sound,

you come

to a place

where the only task

is to trouble you

with tiny

but frightening requests

conceived out of nowhere

but in this place

beginning to lead everywhere.

Requests to stop what

you are doing right now,

and

to stop what you

are becoming

while you do it,

questions

that can make

or unmake

a life,

questions

that have patiently

waited for you,

questions

that have no right

to go away.

~David Whyte from Everything is Waiting for You