Eremitism and Eucharistic Spirituality, Pointed Questions (Reprise)

[[Dear Sister Laurel,
How is it that hermits reflect the centrality of Eucharist in their spiritual lives if they do not attend Mass daily? I heard you remark in another context that you didn't attend Mass if solitude required otherwise. My understanding is that religious are required canonically to attend Mass daily if that is possible, and you yourself say on this blog that Eucharist is the center of everything that happens at your hermitage. So, how is it you can skip Mass just because it is more convenient to remain in solitude and still claim the title Sister and assert how central Eucharist is in your life? My other question is how do you receive Communion if there is no one there but yourself? Isn't self-communication forbidden to Catholics?]]

These topics, as you apparently are aware, came up on the Catholic Hermits list. One person there argued that hermits, like anyone else, should get to Mass as often as possible (daily!), and should not miss simply because it was "inconvenient" to one's solitude. Since, they argued, religious are required to participate at Mass in this way it makes sense that diocesan hermits are also so required. Others have argued that in today's world of easy transportation and numerous parishes people should be able to get to Mass daily one way or another and that hermits certainly should do so. Some know hermits who attend the parish Mass each day, or at least most every day and argue on that basis. My own argument was that fidelity to solitude sometimes meant not getting to daily Mass. I believe it is possible to develop a strong Eucharistic spirituality in solitude even without getting to Mass daily and that is what I want to look at in this post.

On the Place of Solitude in the Hermit's Life

However, before I say more in response to your question I need to clarify one critical point. Your comments include a misconstrual of what I said, and a misunderstanding regarding the nature of eremitical solitude. Namely, hermits do not skip Mass merely because it is inconvenient to their solitude; they do so because solitude is their full-time calling and the actual occasion, environment, and resulting quality of whatever union with God is achieved in their life. Solitude is not just a means for the hermit, but a goal as well. In this perspective, solitude (or what Canon 603 refers to as the "silence of solitude") is not a self-indulgent luxury which just happens to provide an environment for other things in the hermit's life (though external silence and physical solitude will certainly serve in this way). It is instead the reality which is achieved together with God when a hermit is faithful to (among other things) long term external silence and solitude. Thus, it is important that the hermit  maintain her faithfulness to this long term external silence and solitude. Solitude is, again, both the means to and the goal of the hermit's existence because eremitical solitude itself is a form of communal or ecclesial existence and an expression of union with God and all that is precious to God.

In saying this I mean that the hermit's life is to give witness to the union with God which is achieved in solitude as well as the "silence of solitude" which is an expression and sign of this union, and so, to the redemption of all forms of human isolation, alienation and estrangement achieved therein. They are called to come to wholeness and holiness in solitude and their witness is to the most foundational relationship present in the human being, the relationship with God who is creator and ground of all existence. In other words, although community is important to the hermit, it is primarily the koinonia (communion) of solitude that is their vocation. They are called by God through the agency of his Church to the very rare and paradoxical reality of eremitical solitude --- a form of union with God and others marked by and grounded in aloneness with the Alone. Unless we understand that solitude is not isolation, not alienation, nor a feeble excuse for the misanthrope, and certainly not a luxury for the hermit, we may believe that it conflicts with a truly Eucharistic spirituality. My argument is that it does not and that the way the hermit approaches attendance at Mass is dependent upon this way of seeing things.

Eucharistic Spirituality in General

When we speak of Eucharistic Spirituality what is it we are talking about then? And for the hermit who claims that the Eucharist is at the heart of everything that happens in the hermitage, what is she really talking about --- especially if the Mass is not (or is rarely) celebrated at the hermitage? Of course it means a spirituality focused on the Eucharist itself and the hermit will usually (not always) reserve Eucharist in her hermitage, pray in the presence of the Eucharist, celebrate Communion services (Liturgies of the Word with Communion), and so forth. But even more than this everything at the hermitage will be geared towards Christ's incarnation climaxed in his cross and resurrection. It seems to me that the focus involves two particular and interrelated processes: first, that, in a dynamic of kenosis or self-emptying, the Word is made flesh, and second, that, in a dynamic of conversion, reconciliation, and transfiguration, flesh (in the Pauline sense) is made Word. Everything that happens is meant to be an occasion of one or both of these and at the center of it all is the Presence of the Risen Christ in Word and Sacrament, reminding, summoning, challenging, nourishing, and consoling.

Eucharistic Spirituality, The Word Made Flesh

God has chosen to come to us as a human person. More than that he has chosen to be present in a power perfected in weakness (asthenia). He is present in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. He enters into sin and death, the truly or definitvely godless realities and transforms them with his presence. In other words he makes what was literally godless into sacraments of his love, his being God for and with others. For me the Eucharist is a symbol of this specific process and presence (and I mean symbol in the most intensive sense as that reality which does not merely stand for something else (that would be a sign or metaphor) but rather as something that participates in the very reality it mediates). While Mass is the place where we literally re-member all of this, where bread and wine are transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ, where the Word of God is proclaimed with power, Eucharistic Spirituality seems to me to be that spirituality where all this is worked out in everyday life so that every meal is holy, every reality is looked at with eyes that can see God's presence there, and where one is nourished, challenged, consoled, etc, with that presence in the unexpected place and way.

Eucharistic spirituality, is a spirituality which is open to God's presence in ordinariness, not only to his presence at Mass or the more exalted moments of prayer, etc, but in the humbleness of human life generally. And for the hermit this means in the solitariness of ordinary life --- for it is in solitude that we are generally weakest, and our brokenness is most clearly revealed. My own focus in the hermitage is the transformation of ordinariness into Sacrament. This is essentially Eucharistic. Everything should serve this. Everything within the hermitage serves the Word becoming flesh, the allowing of God to dwell within, to love, minister to, and to transform with his presence. Everything becomes a matter of dying to self and rising in God, to learning obedience (hearing and responding to the Word of God) in a way which leads to purity of heart. Yes, often (though not always) Eucharist is present in the hermitage, but whether or not it is present it remains the living symbol of what everything in the hermitage can and is meant to be if given over to the purposes of eremitical life. I sincerely believe that if the hermit practices Eucharistic spirituality she recognizes that her hermitage itself is meant to be a tabernacle situated in the midst of her community and that her own life is bread broken and wine poured out for others.

Eucharistic Spirituality, Flesh Made Word

The second and interrelated process which makes up a genuinely Eucharistic spirituality focuses on what happens to the hermit --- or really, to any Christian for whom Eucharist is central --- namely, that they become a Word Event which embodies and proclaims the Gospel of God in Christ. For the hermitage to become tabernacle, for the hermit to become bread broken and wine poured out for others, the hermit herself must, over time, be transformed and transfigured.

Flesh, in the Pauline sense of the term, means the whole person, body and soul, under the sway of sin. It means being a person of divided heart, one who is enmeshed in processes and realities which are resistant to Christ. It means being less than fully human, and in terms of language, it means being distorted forms of language events which are less than a univocal hymn of praise and gratitude --- screams of pain and anguish, lies or hypocritical formulations and identity, utterances (of anger, prejudice, arrogance, indifference, selfishness, etc) which foster division, insecurity, and suffering for others, a noisy or insecure presence which cannot abide silence and is unable to listen or respond lovingly and with compassion --- all are the less than human forms of language event we are, at least at times. These are also examples of what Paul would have termed "flesh" (sarx).

In the power of the Spirit, these can be transformed, transfigured into articulate expressions of Gospel wholeness, joy, peace, hope, and challenge. That which is less than human can become authentically human; sinners are reconciled to become persons who are truly and wholly authored by God. As one steeps oneself in and seriously contends with the Word of God one is transformed into an expression of that Word. In silence and solitude flesh can become Word just as the Word becomes Flesh. All of this is genuinely Eucharistic spirituality I think, and it remains Eucharistic even if the hermit does not celebrate Eucharist with her parish community daily. For the hermit, those privileged celebrations lead back to silence while solitude and the silence of solitude prepare for the hermit's participation at Mass. But they are all part of a single spirituality in which Christ is received as guest and gift and ordinary reality is transformed into an expression of his presence. Such a spirituality is open to anyone who cannot actually get to Mass more than once a week, and sometimes less frequently.  It is inspired by the Eucharist and modeled on Eucharistic transformation, life, and hope. In fact, I suspect it may well be an instance of genuinely Eucharistic spirituality our world truly needs.

Hermits and Self-Communication

Your last question was also raised on the Catholic Hermits list. It is customary that people do not self-commu-nicate and there are very good theological reasons for this, but solitary hermits are an accepted exception. Canonists are apparently clear (according to a clarification offered on the Catholic Hermits list) that this is a unique situation which calls for such an exception to general custom and theological wisdom. It is also, it seems to me, a sign of how truly esteemed and unusual is the hermit vocation for such an exception to be made. The Church allows this exception precisely because of the importance of eremitical solitude lived in the heart of the church. I would argue that eremitical solitude, to whatever extent it is lived authentically, is essentially Eucharistic --- even when the hermit is unable to leave her hermitage to attend Mass --- and is therefore a very good reason for this singular exception to be made.

In any case, hermits should certainly be careful of their use of this permission. Their own communions must always be seen as extensions of the parish and/or diocesan liturgy, their hermitages must be understood as tabernacles of Christ's presence, and the silence of solitude must be embraced as a natural expression of communal life and love. While the hermit does not literally receive Eucharist from the hands of another during Communion services in the hermitage, she does receive this Sacrament as a gift of the parish community and so, from their hands. The communal nature of the eremitical life is constantly underscored by the presence of Eucharist in the hermitage, and the quality of being "alone with the Alone" FOR the salvation of the world is underscored in this way as well. Eremitical life is not selfish, not individualistic or privatistic, and emphatically not a matter of merely living alone -- much less doing so in whatever way one likes. The presence of Eucharist both symbolizes and so, reminds and calls us to realize this (make this real) more and more fully everyday. I should note that it is entirely reasonable to expect that should a hermit ever tend to take the Eucharist for granted or become arrogant or simply lax in her praxis and perspective, then, at least for a time, she should forego even the reservation of the Eucharist, and get to Mass more often, until she recovers her proper perspective and devotion.

Summing Things Up

For me the bottom line in all of this is that while the celebration of Eucharist is indeed the source and summit of ecclesial life --- and it certainly is that for the hermit as well --- a truly Eucharistic spirituality does NOT necessarily require that one go to Mass daily. The hermit's life will be imprinted with the cross, be emptied, broken and given to others precisely insofar as she is faithful to eremitical solitude lived in the heart of the Church. She will celebrate every day, and do so with her faith community, even when the demands of solitude mean she cannot be physically present with them at Mass. If this is not the case, then we are implicitly saying to many people who pray, suffer, and love at least as fully and well as do daily Mass  participants (or diocesan hermits!) --- but who cannot get to Mass regularly --- that they cannot be said to have or even be able to develop a truly Eucharistic spirituality. I am positive we do not want to do that, wouldn't you agree?

see also: Notes from Stillsong Hermitage: On the Reservation of Eucharist by Hermits

Second Sunday of Lent: On Jesus' Transfiguration and Learning to See With New Eyes (reprise)

Transfiguration by Lewis Bowman

Have you ever been walking along a well-known road and suddenly had a bed of flowers take on a vividness which takes your breath away? Similarly, have you ever been walking along or sitting quietly outside when a breeze rustles some leaves above your head and you were struck breathless by an image of the Spirit moving through the world? I have had both happen, and, in the face of God's constant presence, what is in some ways more striking is how infrequent such peak moments are.

Scientists tell us we see only a fraction of what goes on all around us. In part it depends upon our expectations. In an experiment with six volunteers divided into two teams in either white or black shirts, observers were asked to concentrate on the number of passes of a basketball that occurred as players wove in and out around one another. In the midst of this activity a woman in a gorilla suit strolls through, stands there for a moment, thumps her chest, and moves on. At the end of the experiment observers were asked two questions: 1) how many passes were there, and 2) did you see the gorilla? Fewer than 50% saw the gorilla. Expectations drive perception and can produce blindness. (This observation reflects the fact that while focusing on certain things we exclude those that don't fit our focus; in the case of this test, viewers work actively to see and count the basketball passes while pushing other things out of their visual frame to help in completing the task they have been given. Unfortunately, this can become a more habitual way of looking at the world and that is not helpful.) Even more shocking, these scientists tell us that even when we are confronted with the truth we are more likely to insist on our own "knowledge" and justify decisions we have made on the basis of blindness and ignorance. We routinely overestimate our own knowledge and fail to see how much we really do NOT know.

For the past two weeks we have been reading the central chapter of Matthew's Gospel --- the chapter that stands right smack in the middle of his version of the Good News. It is Matt's collection of Jesus' parables --- the stories Jesus tells to help break us open and free us from the common expectations, perspectives, and wisdom we hang onto so securely so that instead we might commit to the Kingdom of God and the vision of reality it involves. Throughout this collection of parables Jesus takes the common, too-well-known, often underestimated and unappreciated bits of reality which are right at the heart of his hearers' lives. He uses them to reveal the extraordinary God who is also right there in front of his hearers. Stories of tiny seeds, apparently completely invisible once they have been tossed about by a prodigal Sower, clay made into works of great artistry and function, weeds and wheat which reveal a discerning love and judgment involving the careful and sensitive harvesting of the true and genuine --- all of these and more have given us the space and time to suspend our usual ways of seeing and empower us to adopt the new eyes and hearts of those who dwell within the Kingdom of God.

Taking Offense at Jesus:

It was the recognition of the unique authority with which Jesus taught, the power of his parables in particular which shifted the focus from the stories to the storyteller in the Gospel passage we heard last Friday. Jesus' family and neighbors did not miss the unique nature of Jesus' parables; these parables differ in kind from anything in Jewish literature and had a singular power which went beyond the already-significant power of narrative. They saw this clearly. But they also refused to believe the God who revealed himself in the commonplace reality they saw right in front of them. Despite the authority Jesus possessed which they could not deny, they chose to see only the one they expected to see; they decided they saw only the son of Mary, the son of Joseph and "took offense at him." Their minds and hearts were closed to who Jesus really was and to the God he revealed. Similarly, Jesus' disciples too could not really accept an anointed one who would have to suffer and die. Peter especially refuses to accept this.

It is in the face of these situations that we hear today's Gospel of the Transfiguration. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up on a mountain apart. He takes them away from the world they know (or believe they know) so well, away from peers, away from their ordinary perspective, and he invites them to see who he really is. In the Gospel of Luke Jesus' is at prayer --- attending to the most fundamental relationship of his life --- when the Transfiguration occurs. Matthew does not structure his account in the same way. Instead he shows Jesus as the one whose life is a profound dialogue with God's law and prophets, who is in fact the culmination and fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, the culmination of the Divine-Human dialogue we call covenant. He is God-with-us in the unexpected and even unacceptable place. This is what the disciples see --- not so much a foretelling of Jesus' future glory as the reality which stands right in front of them --- if only they had the eyes to see.

Learning to See with New Eyes:

In light of all of this a video I watched today was particularly helpful. A colorblind man was given Enchroma glasses --- a form of sunglasses that allows colorblind persons to see color, often for the first time in their lives. By screening out certain wavelengths of light, someone who has only seen the world in shades of brown their whole lives are finally able to see things they have never seen before; browns are transformed into yellows and reds and purples and suddenly trees look truly green and three-dimensional or the colorful fruit of these trees no longer simply blend into the same-color background. In this video the man was overwhelmed and overcome by what he had been missing; he could not speak, did not really know what to do with his hands, was "reduced" to tears. He literally did not know what to do with himself and eventually expressed it all as he hugged his wife in love and gratitude. Even in the face of this immediate miracle, more is required; it will still take regular wearing of the Enchroma glasses before the man's brain grows accustomed to this new way of seeing the world around him. Meanwhile, family members were struck with just how much they themselves may have taken for granted as everyday they moved through their own world of "ordinary" color and texture. The entire situation involved a Transfiguration almost as momentous as the one the disciples experienced in today's Gospel.

For most of us, such an event would overwhelm us with awe and gratitude as well. But not Peter --- at least it does not seem so to me! Instead, he outlines a project to reprise the Feast of Tabernacles right then and there. In this story Peter reminds me some of those folks who want so desperately to hang onto and even control amazing prayer experiences --- immediately making them the basis for some ministerial project or other; unfortunately, in doing so, they, in acting too quickly and even precipitously, fail to sit quietly with and appreciate these experiences fully or allow enough time to let them remake us and thus, learn to live from them! Peter is, in some ways, a kind of lovable but misguided buffoon ready to similarly build booths for Moses, Elijah and Jesus in a way which makes Jesus just one of an equal trio of religious patriarchs --- while neglecting the qualitative newness and personal challenge of what has been revealed and needs to be processed in personal conversion. Peter has missed the point. And in the midst of Peter's well-meaning activism comes God's voice, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!" In my reflection on this reading this text, I heard something more: "Peter! Sit down! Shut up! This is my beloved Son! You have ears; learn to listen to him. You have eyes; learn to see him with new eyes!!!"

Like Peter, and like the colorblind man who needed wear the glasses consistently enough to allow his brain to really begin to process colors in a new way, we must take the time to see what is right in front of us and we must practice seeing in this way. We must learn to see the sacred which is present and incarnated in ordinary reality. We must learn to listen to the One who comes to us in the Scriptures and Sacraments, the One who speaks to us through every believer and the whole of creation. We must really be the People of God, the "hearers of the Word" who know how to listen and are obedient in the way God summons us to be. This is true whether we are God's lowliest hermit or one of the Vicars of Christ who govern our dioceses and college of Bishops. Genuine authority coupled with true obedience empowers new life, new vision, new perspectives and reverence for the ordinary reality God makes Sacramental. 

There is a real humility involved in all of this. It is the humility of the truly wise, the truly knowing person with real vision. We must be able to recognize and admit how very little we see, how unwilling or unable we often are to be converted to the perspective of the Kingdom Jesus and John the Baptizer both proclaimed was right "at hand" then and there! How easily we justify our blindness and deafness with our supposed knowledge, and how even our well-intentioned activism can prevent us from seeing and hearing the unexpected, sometimes scandalous God standing there right in the middle of our reality.

Feast of Saint Peter Damian by Genevieve Pasquier

 Who is Peter Damian, Monk at the heart of Church's 11th-century reforms?

A Camaldolese monk, advisor to multiple popes, and author, Peter Damian life's greatest battle was the reform of the Church, particularly combating the clergy's licentious ways

By Geneviève Pasquier at  La Croix

February 21, 2024

Born into poverty in Ravenna, northeastern Italy, in 1007, Peter, the youngest of six, was abandoned by his mother after his father's death. Orphaned, he was taken in by a brother named Damian, a name he later added to his own in gratitude. Excelling in his studies in Faenza and Parma, he returned to Ravenna to become a renowned teacher.

As a Camaldolese hermit, drawn to a solitary and contemplative life, he in 1035 joined the small hermitage of Fonte Avellana in the Marches, Italy. The Camaldolese Order, a strict Benedictine monastic order founded by Saint Romuald, blends communal life with eremitism, with monks living secluded in their cells. In his short treatise Dominus Vobiscum, Peter Damian describes the cell as "the place where God converses with men... a witness to a secret dialogue with the divine; and what a sublime sight it is when the brother, secluded in his cell, sings the nocturnal psalmody, standing guard before the camp of God."

Tasked with reform

Quickly becoming the spiritual leader of small hermit groups, his fame spread, leading to invitations to teach at other monasteries. Eight years later, he was appointed prior of Fonte Avellana, where he reorganized the hermitage and founded others nearby. He connected with major monasteries of his time, like Cluny and Montecassino.

As an advisor to popes during a challenging period for the Church characterized by lax clerical lifestyles, Peter Damian fought against two prevalent issues: simony, or the buying of ecclesiastical offices, and nicolaitanism, the disregard of celibacy. His reputation for integrity and sanctity preceded his reaching Rome, and Pope Stephen IX called him in 1057 to assist in reforming the clergy, appointing him cardinal and bishop of Ostia. Over the next six years, the pope tasked him with missions of conciliation and reform, sending him as a legate to Milan, France, Florence, and Germany. In France, he defended the rights of Cluny's Benedictine monks against the Archbishop of Mâcon's abuses.

Doctor of the Church

He participated in the 1059 Lateran Synod, convened by Pope Nicholas II to combat investitures, the appointment of bishops and abbots by secular rulers. The synod reserved papal election rights to the cardinals alone and declared that no priest could receive a church from a layperson, a decision that faced opposition from monarchs who saw bishops as extensions of their authority. Peter Damian continued his reform efforts alongside Pope Gregory VII, challenging the Holy Roman Emperors' investiture practices. His confrontations with Emperor Henry IV of Germany, who insisted on appointing bishops and abbots, culminated shortly after Peter Damian's death. Henry IV, excommunicated and deposed, made a penitential journey to meet Pope Gregory VII at Matilda of Tuscany's castle in Canossa on January 28, 1077, giving rise to the phrase "to go to Canossa," meaning to submit to an opponent's demands.

A prolific writer, Peter Damian's theological works include an extensive correspondence with monks, clergy, popes, and kings. His surviving works comprise 158 letters, 75 sermons, poems, 60 saint biographies, and treatises addressing topics like the omnipotence of God, the Trinity, the Messiah, and simony. His moral rigor is evident in "The Book of Gomorrah," a pamphlet criticizing the clergy's misconduct, including illicit priestly unions and homosexuality. In 1067, he was permitted to return to Fonte Avellana, relinquishing the Ostia diocese. He died in February 1072, with the public acclaiming him a saint at his funeral. His sainthood was officially recognized by Pope Leo XII, who declared him a Doctor of the Church in 1828.

Read more at: https://international.la-croix.com/news/religion/who-is-peter-damian-monk-at-the-heart-of-churchs-11th-century-reforms/19221

Feast of Saint Peter Damian (Reprise)

Today is the feast of the Camaldolese Saint, Cardinal, and Doctor of the Church, St Peter Damian. Peter Damian is generally best known for his role in the Gregorian Reform. He fought Simony and worked tirelessly for the welfare of the church as a whole. Hermits know him best for a few of his letters, but especially #28, "Dominus Vobiscum". Written to Leo of Sitria, letter #28 explores the relation of the hermit to the whole church and speaks of a solitary as an ecclesiola, or little church. Damian had been asked if it was proper to recite lines like "The Lord Be With you" when the hermit was the only one present at liturgy. The result was this letter which explains how the church is wholly present in all of her members, both together and individually. He writes:

[[The Church of Christ is united in all her parts by the bond of love so that she is both one in many members and mystically whole in each member. And so we see that the entire universal Church is correctly called the one and only bride of Christ, while each chosen soul, by virtue of the sacramental mysteries, is considered fully the Church. . . .From all the aforementioned it is clear that, because the whole Church can be found in one individual person [Ecclesiola] and the Church itself is called a virgin, Holy Church is both one in all its members and complete in each of them. It is truly simple among many through the unity of faith and multiple in each individual through the bond of love and various charismatic gifts, because all are from one and all are one.]]

Or again, [[Just as in Greek man is called a microcosm, i.e., a little world (cosmos) because in essential physicality the human being consists of the same four elements of which the whole world is made, so also each one of the faithful [including hermits, Peter Damian's special interest in this letter] is a little Church (ecclesiola), as it were, because without violating the mystery of her inner unity, each person also receives all the sacraments that God has given the universal Church. . .]] Dominus Vobiscum, Letter #28 sec 25. (Emphasis added)

Because of this unity Damian notes that he sees no harm in a hermit alone in cell saying things which are said by the gathered Church. In this reflection, Damian establishes the communal nature of the solitary vocation and forever condemns the notion that hermits are isolated or "lone" persons. His comments thus have much broader implications for the nature of eremitical life than the licitness of saying certain prayers or using communal phrases in liturgy per se. In the latter part of the letter Damian not only praises the eremitical life but writes an extended encomium on the nature of the eremitical cell. The images he uses are numerous and diverse; they clearly reflect extended time spent in solitude and his own awareness of all the ways the hermitage or cell has functioned in his own life and those of other hermits. Furnace, kiln, battlefield, storehouse, workshop, arena of spiritual combat, fort and defensive edifice, [place assisting the] death of vices and kindling of virtues, Jacob's ladder, golden road, etc --- all are touched on here. Peter Damian's rich collection of images serves to underscore the classic observation of the Desert Fathers and Mothers: "Dwell (or remain) within your cell and your cell  will teach you everything."

On Assisting Others to Write Liveable Rules of Life

[[ Dear Sister Laurel, do you assist people in writing their Rule for c 603?]]

Great question!! The answer is, "yes and no" or maybe,"not quite". Let me explain. I believe that writing a liveable Rule requires experience of living as a hermit and, more and more, defining one's life in terms of Canon 603. As I have written in the past, the aim is to help engage the candidate for profession under c 603 in a process of discernment and formation that allows them to eventually write a livable Rule reflecting the way they live and will continue to live c 603 for the rest of their lives. I envision the person becoming increasingly capable of embodying the terms and spirit of consecrated solitary eremitical life lived in the name of the Church, and writing a Rule reflecting all of that within it.

Because, despite profound similarities, each person will embody these terms differently than any other hermit, the process is a flexible one allowing for the candidate's exploration of all of the dimensions of canon 603, and providing the experience and guidance needed to write the Rule the canon requires. Thus, the assistance I provide often has nothing to do directly with the writing of the Rule itself; it is focused on a broader process which allows all participants to discern the presence and quality of a solitary eremitical vocation as well which includes providing space and time for the formation necessary to be admitted to profession and eventual consecration under c 603. At the same time, the writing of the various drafts (or draft portions) of the Rule, is part of what allows me (and any diocesan personnel I might work with) to assess the candidate's vocation and readiness for commitment over time.

When I first began envisioning this process I had a couple of thoughts. First, such a process which draws directly from the essential elements of the canon itself was a wiser and more effective approach than the increasing establishment of canonical hoops for those approaching their dioceses to jump through. Such canonical approaches tend to be arbitrary and provide no assurance that the person meeting such requirements develops the heart of a hermit or even truly lives the life. What Rule the person writes might or might not reflect adequate experience of living eremitism nor the wisdom needed to continue with ongoing formation. Secondly, I saw that using the canon's requirement that the hermit write a Rule of life was meant to reflect the person's readiness to live the canon in fullness. This, along with the formative nature of my own writing of my Rule, in turn led me to consider the process of writing as driving a process of both discernment and formation. Thirdly, I understood that this process could assist diocesan personnel in their work with candidates/petitioners so decisions re admission to profession and/or consecration would not be arbitrary. It would provide an effective path for both hermit and diocese to work together for as long as necessary without being onerous for either.

More recently I have come to see that my own accompaniment of those seeking formation as a c 603 hermit needs to include more frequent meetings than might be necessary for the entire diocesan team (though they will need to be apprised of how things progress), and that has also meant that the writing of the Rule itself, while the goal we keep in mind,  is not the direct topic of most meetings. It becomes more the direct topic as the person nears readiness for profession and the diocese approaches admission to this commitment. However, I do get requests to assist folks in writing their Rules and nothing more. I will certainly do what I can if the person is truly living as a hermit and has done for some time (say a couple of years). Otherwise, however, the attempt to write a Rule will be premature and fail to serve in the incredibly creative ways it can do in terms of the vocation's discernment and formation. 

I hope this is helpful. I received a request for help in writing a Rule in just the last couple of days, so I need to be clear that while I am happy to do that, it needs to be part of a larger process of discernment and formation and too, requires experience on the part of the candidate (petitioner) to even begin. Too often in the past dioceses have sent folks off to write a Rule as though it was simply a discrete item on a list of things to cover or get done. The writing of a liveable Rule is much more critical and integral to the entire eremitical project of one's life. It requires expertise and wisdom, and writing it teaches or inculcates some of the skills the hermit will need throughout her life. For these reasons I should underscore here that the hermit herself needs to write the Rule, not her bishop, her spiritual director, et al!! I can assist in this, but it is the hermit's own responsibility. Your question gives me the chance to explain some of that, so thank you.

On the Portrait for the Seville 2024 Holy Week Poster: Where is the real Blasphemy and Obscenity?

A new poster for Holy Week in Seville, Spain has caused an uproar. My first impression when I saw a close-up of its face and eyes was that it was beautiful and that in many ways, this is the Christ I know from prayer and the Scriptures. It represents a Risen Christ who is, perhaps, too young, and too European still, but the heart of this Jesus is very much the heart of the One who has accompanied me throughout my life. It is gentle, strong, receptive, and speaks of mercy. This Christ is marked with the signs of the cross, as any credible representation must be, but he is no longer overwhelmed by them. This is a courageous figure then, and an unassuming one. One can truly imagine that in him and in his abject and obedient helplessness before a brutal world of imperial and religious power, God has overpowered sin and death and brought a new life (which I think implies a new youthfulness) to the world. 

At the same time, one can begin to imagine what it will mean for God to re-embody us in what the book of Revelations calls a "new heaven and a new earth". What we should know is that we don't really have any clear idea what that will be like. Today, because we are baptized into Christ's death, and empowered by the Holy Spirit, We know what Mary Coloe, in one of her books on John, calls "Eternity Life" --- a share in what one day will be eternal life where we will be re-embodied as part of God's new creation. In this case, the newness and, for many people, the strangeness of this portrait will challenge them because it witnesses to a Christ not devoid of strength or masculinity, but certainly empty of machismo. And some of us will find a Christ with a significantly feminine strength as well --- the femininity of the One who listens deeply, comforts, and mothers us in our need.

I will not likely use this image of Christ any more than I use any other image of Christ in my prayer or reflection. Even so, neither will I look at such a figure as "blasphemous", "repulsive", or an insult to God. The artist used his own Son, Horacio, as a model. The portrait is as true and filled with love as he could make it. It is certainly a good reflection of some major dimensions of the Christ Event. Some of the critics decry the poster as effeminate or homoerotic. Others look at this work and compare it to "pictures in books" they have seen representing Christ; they judge it because it does not match these with some believing that these traditional portraits are accurate or even photographic images of Jesus or the Risen Christ; these folks also hold that the artist has betrayed them and offended God in veering from these "traditional" portrayals!!!

During this season of Lent, it is important to remember that our God is one of surprises. He has willed from the beginning of time to dwell with us and to reconcile us to Himself so that we live as part of his very life. We do not know what Jesus of Nazareth looked like except that he was a Middle Eastern Jew, and in that sense unlike our Medieval European portraits convey. As for the Risen Christ, the Gospel portrayals are clear that he is radically unfamiliar and escapes recognition; neither ghost nor revivified corpse, nor mere spirit, he is beyond all of the categories known to describe the dead or the living up to that point. Humility in all of this is marked by our openness to surprise and a strong sense of how God and his Christ always escape and transcend our limited intellects and imaginations. At the same time, humility is found in our willingness to allow God to reveal himself in whomever and whatever way he wishes to do that. It seems to me that the inability to see Emmanuel in this portrait (or in the groups of people some see it representing) is the true blasphemy, sacrilege, or obscenity.

Followup on Does a Rule Need to be Perfect: More on Writing Several Rules over Time (Reprise)

[[Dear Sister, thanks for your reply to my question. What happens if I don't want to write more than one Rule and my diocese doesn't ask me to? What I have written so far seems fine to me and I can't see revising it. Besides I am not much of a writer.]]

Good questions and similar to others I have been asked (another person said they weren't much of a writer, for instance, and wondered what then?). The purpose of the suggestion of writing and using several different Rules over time is first of all to assist both the candidate and the diocese in maintaining a discernment process that is both long enough but not onerous to either relevant diocesan personnel or the candidate herself.

Sometimes it takes a while for the quality of the vocation to become clear to the diocesan staff working with the candidate. Indications of growth can be more clearly seen in the quality of the Rule (or portions of the Rule) being submitted --- especially since the hermit's life is lived in solitude and not in a house of formation with intense oversight and more constant evaluation. Moreover, dioceses are not responsible for the formation of a hermit; that occurs in solitude itself. Even so dioceses must evaluate the way the individual's formation in eremitical solitude is proceeding and they may be helpful in making concrete suggestions or supplying access to resources from which the candidate might benefit. Several different Rules written over a period of years will uncover areas of strength, weakness, and even deficiency and allow the diocese to respond both knowledgeably and appropriately.

What tends to happen when a diocese does not have such a tool to use is either the relatively immediate acceptance of candidates as suitable for discernment or a more or less immediate dismissal as unsuitable. Dioceses cannot usually follow the hermit's progress sufficiently closely otherwise and without such a tool they may have neither the time, the expertise, nor the patience to extend the discernment period sufficiently. Likewise they may not have the basis for helpful conversations with the candidate that such Rules can provide. I have always felt fortunate to have had a Sister work with me over a period of five years and during those years to actually meet with me at my hermitage. She listened carefully, consulted experts in the eremitical life and its formation and discernment, and generally did what she could in my regard; still, I believe the tool being discussed here would have assisted her and the diocese more generally. It would have helped me as well.

Of course, you are free to write one Rule and trust that that is sufficient in providing insight into your vocation for your diocese. Perhaps it will be sufficient to govern your eremitical life for some time as well. If you have a background in religious life and are familiar with the way Rules are written and function that is much more likely. Similarly, of course, your diocese is free to adopt whatever approach works best for them as well. I personally suggest the use of several Rules written over several years so that dioceses have 1) sufficient resources (including time) for discernment, so 2) the process of discernment and formation will not be curtailed prematurely or stretched endlessly and fruitlessly. I also suggest it so that 3) the candidate herself has a kind of structure which allows what happens in the freedom of solitude to be made clear to her diocese while assuring sufficient time for that to mature. (It is important to remember that the process of writing is a very significantly formative experience itself and contributes to one's own discernment as well.)

Ordinary time frames (for candidacy, novitiate, juniorate, and perpetual profession) do not really work for solitary hermits because the hermit's time in solitude is not so closely observed; neither does it have the degree of social interaction which is a normal element of growth in religious life. Beyond these there is a rhythm to life in eremitical solitude which will include both "tearing down" and building up and which occurs according to God's own time, not to a more or less arbitrary or even more usual temporal schema. Something must replace or at least approximate some of the functions the more usual elements of life in community serve but do so instead in terms of the diocese's relation with the candidate. It must allow and assist both candidate and diocese to have patience with this unique and sometimes counterintuitive process of formation. Moreover, both hermit candidate and diocese must recognize that the eremitical life is about the quality of the journey with God itself and not become too focused on destination points per se (postulancy, novitiate, juniorate, etc).

To summarize then, the use of several Rules written to reflect stages or degrees of growth as the candidate herself is ready to do this helps ensure both individual flexibility from candidate to candidate as well as sufficient length of time and patience on everyone's part to assure adequate growth and discernment. It is merely a tool, though I believe it could be a very effective one in assuring authentic vocations are recognized and fostered.

On Some of the Purposes of Lent (Reprise)

I really love Sunday's Gospel, especially at the beginning of Lent. The thing that strikes me most about it is that Jesus' 40 days in the desert are days spent coming to terms with and consolidating the identity which has just been announced and brought to be in him. (When God speaks, the things he says become events, things that really happen in space and time, and so too with the announcement that Jesus is his beloved Son in whom he is well-pleased.) Subsequently, Jesus is driven into the desert by the Spirit of love, the Spirit of Sonship, to explore that identity, to allow it to define him in space and time more and more exhaustively, to allow it to become the whole of who he is. One of the purposes of Lent is to allow us to do the same.

A sister friend I go to coffee with on Sundays remarked on the way from Mass that she had had a conversation with her spiritual director this last week where he noted that perhaps Jesus' post-baptismal time in the desert was a time for him to savor the experience he had had at his baptism. It was a wonderful comment that took my own sense of this passage in a new and deeper direction. Because of the struggle involved in the passage I had never thought to use the word savor in the same context, but as my friend rightly pointed out, the two often go together in our spiritual lives. They certainly do so in hermitages! My own director had asked me to do something similar when we met this last week by suggesting I consider going back to all those pivotal moments of my life which have brought me to the silence of solitude as the vocation and gift of my life. Essentially she was asking me not only to consider these intellectually (though she was doing that too) but to savor them anew and in this savoring to come to an even greater consolidation of my identity in God and as diocesan hermit.

Hermitages are places which reprise the same experience of consolidation and integration of our identity in God. They are deserts in which we come not only to learn who we are in terms of God alone, but to allow that to define our entire existence really and concretely -- in what we value, how we behave, in the choices we make, and those with whom we identify, etc. In last year's "In Good Faith" podcast for A Nun's Life, I noted that for me the choice which is fundamental to all of Lent and all of the spiritual life, "Choose Life, not death" is the choice between accepting and living my life according to the way God defines me or according to the way the "world" defines me. It means that no matter how poor, inadequate, ill, and so forth I also am, I choose to make God's announcement that in Christ  I am his beloved daughter in whom he is well-pleased the central truth of my life which colors and grounds everything else. Learning to live from that definition (and so, from the one who announces it) is the task of the hermit; the hermitage is the place to which the Spirit of love and Sonship drive us so that we can savor the truth of this incomprehensible mystery even as we struggle to allow it to become the whole of who we are.

But hermitages are, of course, not the only places which reprise these dynamics. Each of us has been baptized, and in each of our baptisms what was announced to us was the fact that we were now God's adopted beloved daughters and sons. Lent gives us the space and time where we can focus on the truth of this, claim that truth more whole-heartedly, and, as Thomas Merton once said, "get rid of any impersonation that has followed us" to the [desert]. We need to take time to identify and struggle with the falseness within us, but also to accept and appreciate the more profound truth of who we are and who we are called to become in savoring our experiences of God's love. As we fast in various ways, we must be sure to also taste and smell as completely as we can the nourishing Word of God's love for us. After all, the act of savoring is the truest counterpart of fasting for the Christian. The word we are called to savor is the word which defines us as valued and valuable in ways the world cannot imagine and nourishes us where the things of the world cannot. It is this Word we are called both to grapple with and to savor during these 40 days, just as Jesus himself did.

Thus, as I fast this Lent (in whatever ways that means), I am going to remember to allow myself not only to get in touch with my own deepest hungers and the hungers I share with all others (another very good reason to fast), but also to get in touch anew with the ways I have been fed and nourished throughout my life --- the experiences I need to savor as well. Perhaps then when Lent comes to an end I will be better able to claim and celebrate the one I am in God. My prayer is that each of us is able to do something similar with our own time in the desert.

Merton quotation taken from Contemplation in a World of Action, "Christian Solitude," p 244.