[[Dear Sister, when you were a new hermit for the Diocese of Oakland, there was an interview with a spokesperson for the Diocese, a priest, and he said something about you being joyful or happy all the time. He asked, "Can you imagine spending all of your time with the Lord and not being happy?" or something like that. Do you remember that? Did you know him? I'm asking because from what you've written recently about existential solitude and loneliness, and everything, I am wondering what you thought about that comment of his!]]
LOL!! What a great question!!! Thanks for asking! No, I did not know him, had never spoken to him, and I believe that the journalist who also interviewed me must've commented to him on my being a happy person or some other comment like that. That's the only thing I can think of that might have prompted such a response, given we had never met. At the time, I remember thinking, "Yes, I am really happy, and yet, here's another hermit stereotype that must be countered." It's not the first time I have heard something like that either. Early on after perpetual profession and consecration, I went on retreat at Bishop's Ranch, the Episcopal retreat center in Northern California's wine country. During one of the presentations in preparation for a desert day everyone was going to observe during that week, the priest speaking to everyone decided to encourage us retreatants not to worry about being lonely during a full day of solitude. He explained about hermits and how they were never lonely because they always had God with them. I was more than a little irritated by his comments and (though I should have remained silent) said so to Sister Donald as we left the chapel and started back toward our rooms.
Some have a sense that being lonely is unhealthy or even somehow pathological,* and that when one is living in eremitical solitude, God's presence prevents one from feeling lonely, for example. But sometimes loneliness is the face love (and the fact that we are made for love) wears in eremitical (or existential) solitude. Sometimes loneliness is the feeling most associated with our hunger for God and for wholeness and holiness, while that hunger is a sign of our knowledge of these realities as well as of our lacking them in some sense. Years ago, I began to distinguish between the loneliness I associated with wanting to share with others and a kind of "malignant loneliness" that is darker and (perhaps) deeper as well. In my mind, this latter form of loneliness
was unhealthy and a symptom of an unhealthy existential condition, while "ordinary" loneliness was not. I was still struggling with the sense others had given me that hermits should never be lonely because they dwell with God. It took some time to shake that false generalization off completely.
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| Sr M Beverly Greger, Marymount Hermitage, Idaho |
For most hermits, time in physical solitude is wonderful and something we love. We have the time for prayer and lectio, for writing or whatever ministry we might also take on, as well as for recreation and inner work. The existential solitude we live is also something we generally experience as positive, even joyful, and something that draws us in. When Cornelius Wencel speaks about that, he describes it in terms of two freedoms meeting each other. It is what we human beings are made for, and most of the time it is experienced as consoling, creative, and a source of deep peace, abundant life, and gladness. What I have written about recently is merely one dimension of that same journey into existential solitude, but it is still an undeniable part of that journey.
In other words, loneliness, too, is part of the eremitical journey and wears different faces depending on the reasons for its existence. In a life of continuing communion and even union with God, this is still, or perhaps especially, the case. It is not necessarily a signal that anything is wrong. Instead, it reminds us that we are each social, communal, relational, or "dialogical" realities, made for love, as is our vocation. (It is striking to me that the Camaldolese Benedictines write about their lives and vocations as "the privilege of love." Eremitical Solitude itself is a communal reality, something we only experience within and in light of our truly belonging to and living our lives for God, the ecclesial community, and the wider world.
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While we are made for love and, as is true of every human being, are each relational to our core, we hermits forego many of the relationships and activities that are literally fulfilling for most people; we do this because God calls us to underscore the fact that every person is made for life with and in God. This is the source of the affirmation, "God alone is enough for us," not because we do not need other people, but because only God truly completes any person as a human being. This side of death, our sense of that "made-for-ness", our hunger for it, and the One who is its ground and source, can certainly be associated with feelings of loneliness, even to the point of great anguish. What hermits reject are the almost infinite ways human beings find to distract themselves from such loneliness. In fact, as I have been writing recently, we commit to journeying ever deeper into our existential solitude for the sake of seeking God, and an affirmation of the truth that God both is and most desires and wills to be Emmanuel (God with us).
* Some forms of loneliness are indeed unhealthy, and chronic loneliness, especially when it is rooted in childhood loss or trauma and associated attachment difficulties, is linked to serious health problems in later life. These include all manner of common ailments, including chronic pain, depression, anxiety disorders, and many others. I am not speaking of this kind of loneliness as intrinsic to eremitical life, although for some, it can certainly color, complicate, and perhaps also motivate a focused and deep journey into existential solitude.
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