Followup questions on the Danger of Eremitical Life Without a Divine Call

[[ Dear Sister, why would the desert or a desert spirituality be considered dangerous? Why would it be dangerous for someone without a Divine call to be a hermit to try to live as one? I've heard a few times that the hermit life is dangerous, but hermits today don't live in real deserts, do they? So what's the danger?]]

I put up an older post before approaching this series of questions. Hopefully, any overlap will take the form of expansion. The basic truth at work in understanding various calls or vocational pathways is that each of us shares a single foundational vocation to authentic humanity. Authentic humanity is the task our lives are meant to accomplish, the single most important goal of our lives. Each of us must therefore discover the various pathways to authentic humanity that our own lives must follow. Some will tend towards marriage, some toward single life, some towards consecrated life, and some towards priesthood. Within these are various pathways that serve our fundamental vocations. Within both lay, clerical, and consecrated life, one important but rare pathway is eremitical life. What is critical regarding ANY pathway is that it helps lead us to authentic humanity.

The Great Commandment points us to the nature of authentic humanity and in the direction of both God and mankind. We are to learn to love as God loves, and we are to love both God, ourselves, and others as we love ourselves. Authentic humanity is all about loving both God and others more and more fully. Every genuine pathway must lead us to this, whether it focuses on union with God or communion with others. All persons depend on relationships with others to learn to love more authentically and fully. Such relationships are necessary for our humanity. So too is one's relationship with God. Every vocation must lead to our fulfilling of the Great Commandment. With eremitical life, we are looking at one of the rarest ways of achieving authentic humanity because our life with and for others is itself at once far more limited and essentially hidden from others. It is also more clearly dependent on one's developing life with God.

Unfortunately, the potential for self-delusion is very high with eremitical life, and the Church's corresponding responsibility is very high indeed with regard to discerning and supervising these vocations. Much passes for eremitism today; sometimes called "cocooning," much masks isolation, selfishness, misanthropy, covert narcissism, individualism, and other forms of "me first" (or "me only"!!) life. Regular spiritual direction is absolutely necessary throughout the life, and everyone must take care that the hermit is truly growing in her kenotic capacity for love of God and all that is precious to God. They must be aware of the hermit's growth in prayer and in the courage and generosity required to give herself completely to Union with God for the sake of the Church and witness to the Church's Gospel. They will watch for selfishness, fear, the hermit's relative inability to trust and love herself or others, as well as assessing her potential and capacity for fullness of life, and they will guide her appropriately on her path through darkness to light and authentic humanity.

It is in all of this that we begin to see the danger of eremitical life, especially when it is undertaken without ecclesial supervision or adequate spiritual direction. If one undertakes an essentially selfish or self-centered life while validating it with the name "eremitical", one has embraced the very world eremitical life requires one to renounce. More importantly, one claims to be witnessing to God and to the Gospel of Jesus Christ when one has really become antithetical to the God of Life. In such an instance, one's life is a lie, a sham, a fraud, and it doesn't matter how often one invokes the name of the Lord in one's "witness". This doesn't validate what one is living; instead, it may well condemn it. One misses or actually rejects the Divine gift of one's vocation to authentic humanity and the pathway(s) leading one there. This is the most obvious danger of claiming a vocation to eremitical life when one doesn't have one.

False hermits, of whatever stripe, also endanger the vocation itself. It has always been difficult for the majority of folks to understand how Christianity could see the eremitical life as valid because one's call to love others is largely a hidden dimension of the life. One other way we hermits might contribute to the falsification of our vocations without meaning to is by focusing our attention solely on the external constituent elements of that vocation without serious concern for the deeper journey these are meant to serve. For instance, some look at the degree of silence or solitude the person is living, the degree of poverty, prayer, limited ministry (which is ordinarily allowed so long as it is truly limited), etc., and try to discern whether or not the person is a hermit. The problem in measuring a vocation in these terms is that many people live alone without being hermits and many do the same without loving themselves, God, or others as every person is called to do. Many people embrace silence, reject actively ministerial lives, refuse to marry or live in community merely due to intense introversion, and many live relatively impoverished lives while mistaking these for lives of religious poverty. Similarly, many pray in ways that need to deepen without actually working toward this. Others embrace solitude because they are artists or writers without ever living desert lives. In other words, few of these are called to be hermits, and thus, they have not yet discovered their own path to authentic humanity.

With regard to c 603 life, while the constitutive elements of the canon are indispensable elements that contribute significantly to an authentic ecclesial eremitical life, they are not, per se, the heart of the vocation. Instead, the heart of the eremitical vocation is one's journey towards authentic humanity via growing union with God. This is what the hermit is about. This is who she is and who she is called to be primarily. Her witness stems from this specific journey and what it reveals to the Church and world**, not only about God and authentic humanity, but also about the victory over sin and death achieved through the death and resurrection of God's Christ, the wisdom of faith, hope, and love, and the entire Gospel of Jesus Christ. The hermit witnesses in a particularly vivid way to all of these as reflections of her embodiment of the Great Commandment --- though the way she loves, and the degree to which she loves, will remain hidden from most.

I think you can see why, as noted above, a regular spiritual director is essential here. The journey the hermit makes is both hidden and countercultural in many ways. It is also contrary to the usual distractions and busyness of life in the world, even from ministerial life in the world. Because silence and solitude, especially together, break open our hearts and minds to the working of the Holy Spirit, this may involve their being broken open to past memories and woundedness as the person comes to know themselves ever more deeply and truly. The journey to union with God involves a journey to the depths of ourselves and thus, to darkness and, at least sometimes, to terror. When this happens, it is really important to have a spiritual director who can accompany us as we work and pray our way through such things while staying on our present path to union with God. There is a lot to discern in such a rich life, and while the hermit herself does this with God to whatever extent she can, talking things over regularly with someone who knows one and the spiritual life well is truly critical. We each need someone who can see the forest for the trees, and reflect this back to us when our journey is deep and intense.

I'll end this for now. I hope it raises additional questions for readers. Thanks for writing!

** The Church's own mission, message, and ministries are meant to facilitate the same journey in its members. It calls us all to reconciliation with God, with ourselves, and with others. Hermits living in Christ reflect a commitment to pursue the most radical form of this dynamic and the most profound journey to self-knowledge and knowledge of God. Such a journey witnesses to the Church's ground of hope and holiness, namely, union with the God who has chosen to reveal himself as Emmanuel.

(Reprise) The Desert is a Dangerous Place, Eremitical Life is a Perilous Reality

I've been asked about this again, so before I write about it afresh, I want to include a reprise of the original article. This was originally written in August 2016.

 Dear Sister, usually when you write about the silence of solitude it is a positive thing but your last piece was pretty dark. I wondered if you were okay and if this was a new discovery you had made about the power of the silence of solitude? Someone else wrote about the suffering you were experiencing. Have I missed something (I ask because I care)!

Please don't be concerned. About three months ago I wrote about doing some inner work with my director which was demanding and challenging. I have continued with that and sometimes it has been reflected in my posts --- though generally it has meant fewer posts or posts which were poorly written and kind of rambling --- probably the result of putting these up before allowing my thoughts to mature and gel. I suspect the person referring to suffering was referring to some part of that constellation of posts. The piece I wrote a couple of days ago on Eremitical silence as harrowing as well as hallowing was not a new insight, no, but I certainly know it more deeply and extensively than I did from previous work. Moreover it is an important dimension of eremitical silence I have needed and now need to treat more explicitly --- especially in light of questions I am receiving about eremitical life and candidates with serious mental illness (I am working on one of these right now), or about topics like formation, the need for careful discernment, the indispensability of competent and regular spiritual direction, the danger of eremitical solitude, and so forth.

I have written before that eremitical silence and solitude are not easy and that the vocation itself is demanding. I have quoted Merton and others, noted that this is not a vocation generally suited for those with mental illness (though when it seems possible for someone who functions well and whose illness is stable this should be determined carefully by chancery, directors, therapists, etc on a case by case basis); I have explained that eremitical solitude is not the normal way to achieve personal wholeness and holiness, and I've described instances of individuals who were clearly decompensating as the result of living in an isolation they called "eremitical". I've even written a few times about battling with demons --- usually those of one's own heart! What I may not have done clearly enough is describe the way desert silence and solitude can strip away defenses and break open one's mind and heart to deeper and deeper levels of woundedness (some would speak of deeper or more foundational levels of sinfulness and alienation here but woundedness seems the better choice to me). This has always been implicit in posts referring to inner work, spiritual direction, and the other topics I have mentioned above and it was more explicit in the posts on battling with demons -- a perennial topic for the desert Abbas and Ammas --- but it needed to be made even more explicit I think.

The Desert is a Dangerous Place:

As I approach this anniversary of my perpetual profession as a diocesan hermit (02. September) I have looked back on some of the topics I have felt passionately (and sometimes written extensively) about. What is clear to me is that most of them have at their core the fact that this vocation is a gift of the Holy Spirit to the Church (and only then to the individual) and thus requires the church to treat it with real respect for precisely the gift it is. This means (or has meant) codifying it in canon law, carefully discerning candidates for profession, demanding Rules be written only after a candidate has sufficient experience living the life under competent direction, continuing direction and regular supervision (legitimate superiors), and providing lists of or even access to resources an individual may draw from in order to get the initial formation she needs to live this life well "in the name of the Church". But the flip side to all of this, the reason the charismatic nature of the vocation must be recognized and adequate care taken in all of these ways is also precisely because solitary eremitical life in the silence of solitude is dangerous for one not truly called to it --- or for one who undertakes it without sufficient support and assistance!

After all, one vows to listen in silence and solitude to the voice of God dwelling in one's heart. Moreover, one vows to give that entire heart over to God to love into wholeness and holiness; in this way one comes to know and reflect the silence OF solitude. That is what obedience is all about. But at the same time, the journey into the depths of one's own heart, as I wrote in the last post, can be a harrowing experience, for though one's heart is meant to belong to God alone, very much more dwells and often has dominance there than God alone. Similarly, while God never abandons us, there are times when God's presence takes the form of darkness and distance precisely so we can come to know those parts of our hearts which war against (him) --- against love and life itself --- and which divide us as persons so that quite often we stand diminished, fragmented and at war with ourselves. I wrote recently that the Holy Spirit maintained (was!) the bond of communion between Father and Son, but that additionally it was the Holy Spirit that maintained distance between them as well --- especially during Jesus' descent into hell, for instance. And so it is in the hermit's sometimes dark silence of solitude. God is experienced as absence or remoteness but it is still God's presence we know in these challenging ways.

Journeying With a Competent Director:

The listening (hearkening, obedience) one does involves a breaking open of the hardened and well-defended heart or false "self", and leads to a kind of stripping away of the false and distorted as well as to a revelation of the fearful, fragile, and (thanks be to God) the rich potential living at the core of ourselves. The result is a vulnerability which is excruciatingly painful and which absolutely requires the assistance of a competent director who knows not only how to do this kind of spiritual or "inner" work, but also when it is time to do it as well as when the hermit is strong enough (in her inner covenantal life with God or Selfhood) to attempt it. At these times some parts of the hermit's Rule may be suspended and other changes made to accommodate differing needs for rest, prayer, food, recreation, direction or contact with one's delegate, etc.

Though one's director need not (and probably will not) be a hermit, it takes someone knowledgeable and personally experienced in the same kind of inner journey to assist and accompany the hermit in all of this. Otherwise one will have the equivalent of the blind leading the blind into the pit and tragedy will ensue. (It should go without saying that a "hermit" attempting to live in the desert without the assistance of a competent director with whom they meet regularly is, from my perspective, perhaps the greatest fool I could name. Unfortunately it happens.) In any case, it is also at this time that the hermit's own knowledge, experience and faith, all tested over time, prove their greatest worth.

On my Anniversary:

Despite all I have said here and in a few recent posts which may have seemed uncharacteristically "dark", let me also reiterate that I could not be happier in my vocation as a diocesan hermit. While the inner work in which I have recently been engaged has been difficult and rending (harrowing) it has simultaneously been a clear source of abundant life (hallowing) as well. There is no doubt in my mind that the temporary suffering of this work itself is a grace of God, not simply a source of grace as much suffering is and can be, but a wounding and profoundly life-giving touch of God (him)self and one that I might never have known but for this vocation and those who assist me in it.

Deep healing and growth in holiness is clearly something God is calling me to "in the silence of solitude" and apart from canonical eremitical life I would have neither the time nor the space and discipline for prayer, the access to sufficient direction or supervision, the commitment of profession which empowers and sustains the work, nor would I have the motivation or have been able to grow as sufficiently as I have needed in the commitment which make perseverance in this specific journey possible. God has truly blessed me in this and though there is pain and a sense of great fragility right now, I approach this anniversary with even more life, strength, and gratitude than I have known in the past. The promise of the future, though still being worked out "in fear and trembling" as Paul might put it, is very full indeed.

Adequately honoring this Gift of the Holy Spirit:

Dioceses that fail to pay attention to the reality and perhaps the inevitability of this experience of God in the darkness and abject suffering of the silence of solitude will be unable to assist hermits they profess. Even more problematically they are apt to profess "hermits" who can neither negotiate nor thrive (come to the abundant life Jesus promises) in the desert of eremitical life. Outright illness or a lack of integrity marked by mediocrity and "vocations" which are thus disedifying and even scandalous to all involved will be the result.

To summarize, the desert is a dangerous place. Eremitical silence and solitude are perilous realities and dioceses professing hermits need to be keenly aware of these facts. Especially they must never believe they are merely entrusting individuals to some sort of prayer-filled life of mere peace and quiet! The eremitical contemplative life of prayer in the silence of solitude is wonderful, yes, but it is also a source of real and deep anguish. Becoming God's own prayer in this world is both hallowing and harrowing, often at the very same time. When Jesus said, "I did not come to bring peace but a sword!" he might very well have been speaking, for those called to it, of the significantly growth-full moments of eremitical life! Again, this is something of which dioceses and candidates to canon 603 eremitical life must be aware if they are to truly and adequately honor this rare, valuable, and mysterious gift of the Holy Spirit.

Followup Questions on Suffering and Eremitical Life

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I really appreciate what you wrote about suffering, but it raised more questions for me. One of these is whether, when you go silent, it means you are suffering and need prayers? Another is whether suffering has taught you anything about the Gospel and, if so, what? My third question is whether you understand suffering as a necessary part of eremitical life (I thought you said that in your last post), and if so, how come? (You wrote about sin and death, so maybe you could say more about that.]]

Great follow-ups!! Thanks!! There are three or four reasons I might go silent, and one of these is due to suffering, as it was recently. However, my silence can also be caused by a lack of questions from others that can be used online, and my own other writing projects. When all three of these reasons come together, the silence tends to be longer and more complete. (By the way, I always welcome prayers and also questions for this blog!!!) My fourth reason has to do with the demands of the silence of solitude and inner work. Usually I can continue to blog, but sometimes I must simply withdraw altogether.

Has suffering taught me anything about the Gospel? Absolutely!!! I have to laugh because in my first real meeting with Bishop Vigneron, he asked me about my favorite Saint. It was a good question, meant to start a conversation on the level of heart, and also simply to break the ice for ongoing conversations. As I have told the story in the past, I quickly answered Paul of Tarsus or Paul the Apostle. In my head, though, I was thinking, "Oh no, he probably wanted someone other than an Apostle; I should have referred to John of the Cross or, St Therese, or (and so it went as I catastrophized about my answer!!). 

I quickly followed up with comments about the theology I most love in Paul's writing, viz., his theology of the Cross. I said something like, "If I could spend the rest of my life coming to understand Paul's Theology of the Cross, I would be a happy camper!" Of course, I wasn't saying I wanted to understand this theology on a firsthand basis as Jesus did. I already knew this reality to some extent, but not to the extent I know it now, and I think will be asked to understand it throughout the rest of my life --- precisely as a theologian of the cross and as a hermit.

God has definitely taken me at my word in this matter, so the way I spoke to Bp Vigneron on that day makes me laugh re my own naivete. My own life is marked in a real way by the imprint of the cross, and in a very real way I know aspects of what Jesus suffered during his life as well as on the cross. This has been true throughout most of my life, though I didn't really appreciate it until relatively recently. What is most important in this pattern is the fact that we are made for God and our humanity is meant to mirror Jesus' pattern of humanity where God is Emmanuel in and through him. We are each called to be a revelation of the God who wills to be God With Us, so much so that authentic humanity is transparent to this God and can be identified by the same name. God the Father is Emmanuel, Jesus is the authentic human who is therefore also Emmanuel, and in Christ and the Holy Spirit, we are each called by God to be Emmanuel as well. The deepest questions we pose, the most profound questions we each represent, are questions of meaning and being; that is, they are questions of the source and ground of what it means not only to be, but also to be significant creations of God. The questions we pose and actually are, are existential questions of God and human being. Hermits are called to ask these questions --- to be and to pose them as nakedly, deeply, vividly, truthfully, and poignantly as possible. Suffering, to the extent we can truly set our egos aside, assists in this, and that is part of its grace.

Similarly, we are to be those who allow the answer God is to be received as fully as possible. We are, as authentic human beings, a capacity for God. Hermits witness to this foundational truth, just as they witness to the fact that God is Emmanuel, God With Us. God does not leave us, abandon us, or leave our world without his creative presence. Instead, in each of us the presence of God that Jesus made real (revealed) in space and time continues to be made real in our world. We are called to that in a variety of ways --- some active, some contemplative, some in formal communities, and others in solitude, for instance. 

I believe the Gospel can be summarized in the one word, "Emmanuel". Similarly, it is most exhaustively made real (that is, it is most fully revealed) on the cross. Almost all of the hermits I know tend to put the cross of Christ right at the center of their own eremitical lives, and that is especially true as they age or mature in eremitism. In my own experience, this is the heart of eremitical life; it is the way we grow in union with God. While sin and death have been defeated by God in Christ, God is not yet all in all. Hermits live in witness both to God's victory and to the fact that there is more to come when God definitively establishes a new heaven and a new earth.

Is it Unusual for Hermits to Suffer? Why Not Write About it?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I was thinking about your not having written much recently. I have been praying for you, but I wondered if being ill changes the way you live eremitical life? You don't mention being ill very often or write about suffering. Why is that? . . .. Is it unusual for hermits to live with suffering? To write about it? It seems unusual for you.]]

Many thanks for your prayers. I do appreciate them --- as do so many of us. Yes, illness affects my eremitical life in a variety of ways, but I work regularly with my director, and (more so recently) with my doc to be sure I stay on my path.`Suffering is an important dimension of any spiritual life, not only because we must learn how to do so in a way that truly glorifies God, but because it is fundamental to human life here in this world. One of the best books I know of on human suffering is by Douglas John Hall, and is called God and Human Suffering. Hall observes that learning how to suffer is one of the things we need most to learn today. In my own life, I have come to believe that the most important way I can model "suffering well" is by focusing on the life and love God calls me to each day, in spite of whatever suffering is also present.

Focusing on this is what I have tried to do on this blog, except when I have experienced something unusual and can use folks' prayers. I don't believe focusing on suffering per se, particularly on my own suffering, is particularly helpful to folks unless they have some question about a very similar situation. Otherwise, in the past, I have described references to one's own suffering as being a bit like a drop of skunk scent. A tiny bit goes a very long way, and more than that can be simply overpowering and repellent!!! I do think that one can learn to speak credibly about suffering with Christ, as one comes to truly do this, but again, this is not usually expressed as an account of one's own suffering, so much as it is an account of how Jesus' suffering becomes a source of grace that strengthens and empowers us. This means that one will suffer over what is usually a long period of time until one comes to the point where one realizes one's union with Christ and comes to genuine peace in the face of whatever one is suffering. This is the interesting and truly inspired part of a story of suffering.

Most hermits I know deal with suffering routinely --- just as anyone else ordinarily does. These hermits have chronic ailments, many of which lead to significant limitations and even disabilities. What it seems to me we each and all focus on is the life God gifts us with each day and most especially with which the meaning the Cross of Christ imbues those lives. In that way we remain capable of witnessing to God's grace without merely speaking in a self-centered way about the pain we experience daily. Still, yes, suffering is a central element to eremitical life because we are called to union with God, and that includes our movement in and through the darknesses of sin and death, where God meets us as source and ground of life. In our suffering, then, we meet God in Christ and in this way, even our suffering is made meaningful. What would ordinarily be a sign of godlessness and the victory of sin becomes a sacramental reality instead. Moreover, it defines one's eremitical life as one of complete availability to God and helps to put ego in its proper place. Such a life is not always pleasant, no, but the profound presence of God, deeper than any suffering, is a source of great peace and joy, that witnesses to the Gospel from and for which the Church lives. 

What hermits witness to, therefore, is not primarily their suffering, but the way that is transformed by God. God always answers prayers and does so with himself. This is the focus of a life truly dedicated to God in and through suffering. God is not a postscript tagged onto the end of a long paean of misery in such a life, nor does every life punctuated by cries of "Thank you Jesus!" truly glorify God. (“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’" knows or will come to know the sovereignty of God.) God's presence transforms such paeans into victorious Magnificats of divine presence. Either the hermit can convey a sense of that presence and the transformation it brings --- which includes genuine growth in loving oneself and others in Christ --- or we will fail to do so, which may also mean a failure to live one's vocation. 

When our focus is on our own suffering, especially if we are writing publicly, I believe we detract from a genuine focus on God, except when requesting occasional prayers from others. In particularly poignant ways, suffering raises the question of God; the transformation of suffering into a grace-filled reality is something only the presence of God can do. When one's life is full (no matter the illness and suffering), and thus truly graced, the need to speak about one's suffering is greatly diminished, and one's references to God will be more credible, compelling, and inspirational. This, at least, is what my experience teaches me.

I sincerely hope this is an adequate response to your questions.

From the Dark Ages to Modern Times: Why Benedictine Spirituality Still Matters

 The following reflection by Fr Dorathick, OSB Cam, was shared by the Camaldolese monks and oblates. Best wishes for all my Benedictine Brothers and Sisters and particularly for those Camaldolese I count as extended family!!

Every year, on the Feast of St. Benedict, the Church remembers a man who wasn’t trying to change history. He was simply looking for God. And yet, by seeking God with sincerity, discipline, and humility, St. Benedict became one of history’s great spiritual builders. While the Roman world was falling apart and Europe was slipping into political chaos, violence, and cultural division, Benedictine monasteries became places where faith, learning, work, hospitality, and hope were kept alive. They were lamps in a dark age.

Our world today may not be trapped in that same kind of darkness, but plenty of people would say we’re living through a different sort of crisis. It’s psychological, social, and spiritual. We’re more connected than ever because of technology, and yet deeply lonely. We have endless information at our fingertips, but not much wisdom. We chase productivity nonstop, while still struggling to feel any real inner peace. Anxiety, burnout, broken families, social polarization, and a fading sense of meaning have become part of modern life. In a world like this, Benedictine spirituality feels surprisingly fresh.

At the center of St. Benedict’s vision is a simple belief: the deepest human trouble isn’t the chaos around us, but the disorder inside the heart. Modern culture often says happiness comes from getting more, moving faster, or endlessly remaking ourselves. St. Benedict points to another way: stability, simplicity, prayer, community, and careful listening. The first word of his Rule, “Listen,” may matter now more than ever. Before we speak, snap back, or pass judgment, we’re asked to listen, to God, to other people, and to what’s stirring in our own hearts.
Psychologically, this kind of listening can steady a restless mind. So many people move through life in a constant state of distraction, tugged by notifications, comparisons, and demands that never seem to end. Benedictine spirituality calls us back to silence, not as a way to hide from reality, but as the place where truth can rise to the surface. In silence, we can face our fears without letting them rule us. We begin to learn that our worth is not measured by what we achieve, but rooted in who we are: beloved children of God.

St. Benedict, though, never saw holiness as something a person achieves alone. He valued solitude, yes, but he also believed spiritual maturity is tested and shaped in community. For him, the monastery was a school of charity, a place where patience, forgiveness, humility, and mutual obedience are learned through ordinary daily relationships. That insight still speaks strongly today. We often want spirituality without commitment, choosing private inspiration over shared responsibility. Benedict reminds us that love becomes real only when it is lived out with actual people, each one carrying their own weaknesses and gifts.

Our society today badly needs this kind of wisdom. Polarisation has made real dialogue hard. Individualism has worn down our sense of belonging. Even in families and churches, many people struggle to stay together when conflict comes. Benedictine spirituality reminds us that communion doesn’t mean having no differences; it means doing the patient work of reconciliation. It calls us to be people who build bridges instead of walls, who listen rather than shout, and who choose mercy over resentment.

The Benedictine balance of ora et labora—prayer and work—pushes back against today’s culture of fatigue. Work should not become an idol that swallows up our identity, and prayer is not an escape from responsibility. The two belong together. Prayer gives work its deeper purpose, while work turns prayer into real service. Whether we are caring for a family, teaching, farming, studying, or leading an organization, every task can become an offering when it is done with love and integrity.

The Feast of St. Benedict, then, is more than a look back at history. It invites us to build an inner monastery in our hearts, a place where Christ lives, where silence quiets the noise, gratitude eases anxiety, and compassion overcomes fear. This kind of life doesn’t run away from the world. It steps into it more fully, bringing peace into our homes, workplaces, communities, and society.

As we celebrate the Feast of St. Benedict, we are called to do more than honor a saint from long ago. We are invited to take up a way of life that can change the present. The deepest darkness of our time is not around us, but inside us: the restless heart that no longer knows how to listen for God. Benedict’s lasting message is simple, and still deeply challenging: return to silence, return to prayer, return to community, and return to Christ. The renewal of the world begins one converted heart at a time. If we are willing to build an inner monastery, a place where God’s presence is welcomed each day, then our homes can become places of peace, our relationships can show compassion, and our communities can shine with hope. In a world weighed down by noise, division, and constant distraction, may we hear again the first word of the Rule of St. Benedict: “Listen.” Because those who truly listen become people of wisdom, communion, and peace, carrying the quiet light of Christ into a world still longing to come out of its own dark age.

Fr. Dorathick OSB Cam

The Feast of St Thomas, Apostle

Today's Gospel focuses on the appearances of Jesus to the disciples, and one of the lessons one should draw from these stories is that we are indeed dealing with bodily resurrection, but therefore, with a kind of bodiliness which transcends the corporeality we know here and now. It is very clear that Jesus' presence among his disciples is not simply a spiritual one, in other words, and that part of Christian hope is the hope that we as embodied persons will come to perfection beyond the limits of death. It is not just our souls which are meant to be part of the new heaven and earth, but our whole selves, body and soul.

The scenario with Thomas continues this theme, but is contextualized in a way that leads homilists to focus on the whole dynamic of faith with seeing, and faith despite not having seen. It also makes doubt the same as unbelief and plays these off against faith, as though faith cannot also be served by doubt. But doubt and unbelief are decidedly NOT the same things. We rarely see Thomas as the one whose doubt (or whose demands!) SERVES true faith, and yet, that is what today's Gospel is about. Meanwhile, Thomas also tends to get a bad rap as the one who was separated from the community and doubted what he had not seen with his own eyes. The corollary here is that Thomas will not simply listen to his brother and sister disciples and believe that the Lord has appeared to or visited them. But I think there is something far more significant going on in Thomas' proclamation that unless he sees the wounds inflicted on Jesus in the crucifixion, and even puts his fingers in the very nail holes, he will not believe.

What Thomas, I think, wants to make very clear is that we Christians believe in a crucified Christ, and that the resurrection was God's act of validation of Jesus as scandalously and ignominiously Crucified. I think Thomas knows on some level anyway that, insofar as the resurrection really occurred, it does not nullify what was achieved on the cross. Instead, it renders permanently valid what was revealed (made manifest and made real) there. In other words, Thomas knows if the resurrection is really God's validation of Jesus' life and establishes him as God's Christ, the Lord he will meet is the one permanently established and marked as the crucified One. The crucifixion was not some great misunderstanding that could be wiped away by resurrection. Instead, it was an integral part of the revelation of the nature of truly human and truly divine existence. Whether it is the Divine life, authentic human existence, or sinful human life --- all are marked and revealed in one way or another by the signs of Jesus' cross. For instance, ours is a God who has journeyed to the very darkest, godless places or realms human sin produces, and has become Lord of even those places. He does not disdain them even now but is marked by them and will journey with us there --- whether we are open to him doing so or not --- because Jesus has implicated God there and marked him with the wounds of an exhaustive kenosis.

Another piece of this is that Jesus is, as Paul tells us, the end of the Law, and it was the Law that crucified him. The nail holes and wounds in Jesus' side and head -- indeed every laceration which marked him -- are a sign of legal execution -- both in terms of Jewish and Roman law. We cannot forget this, and Thomas' insistence that he really be dealing with the Crucified One reminds us vividly of this fact as well. The Jewish and Roman leaders did not crucify Jesus because they misunderstood him, but because they understood all too clearly both Jesus and the immense power he wielded in his weakness and poverty. They understood that he could turn the values of this world, its notions of power, authority, etc, on their heads. They knew that he could foment profound revolution (religious and otherwise) wherever he had followers. They chose to crucify him not only to put an end to his life, but to demonstrate he was a fraud who could not possibly have come from God; they chose to crucify him to terrify those who might follow him into all the places discipleship might really lead them --- especially those places of human power and influence associated with religion and politics. The marks of the cross are a judgment (krisis) on this whole reality.

There are many gods and even manifestations of the real God available to us today, and so there were to Thomas and his brethren in those first days and weeks following the crucifixion of Jesus. When Thomas made his declaration about what he would and would not believe, none of these were crucified Gods or would be worthy of being believed in if they were associated with such shame and godlessness. Thomas knew how very easy it would be for his brother and sister disciples to latch onto one of these, or even to fall back on entirely traditional notions in reaction to the terribly devastating disappointment of Jesus' crucifixion. He knew, I think, how easy it might be to call the crucifixion and all it symbolized a terrible misunderstanding which God simply reversed or wiped away with the resurrection -- a distasteful chapter on which God has simply turned the page. Thomas knew that false prophets showed up all the time. He knew that a God who is distant and all-powerful is much easier to believe in (and follow) than one who walks with us even in our sinfulness or who empties himself to become subject to the powers of sin and death, especially in the awful scandal and ignominy of the cross --- and who expects us to do essentially the same.

In other words, Thomas' doubt may have had less to do with the FACT of a resurrection than it had to do with his concern that the disciples, in their loss, grief, desperation, guilt, and the immense social pressure they faced to renounce Jesus and the God he revealed, had truly met and clung to the real Lord, the crucified One. In this way, their own discipleship will come to be marked by the signs of the cross as they preach, suffer, and serve in the name (and so, in the paradoxical power) of THIS Lord and no other. Only he could inspire them; only he could sustain them; only he could accompany them wherever true discipleship led them.

Paul said, "I want to know Christ crucified and only Christ crucified" because only this Christ had transformed sinful, godless reality with his presence, only this Christ had redeemed even the realms of sin and death by remaining open to God even within these realities. Only this Christ would journey with us to the unexpected and unacceptable places, and in fact, only he would meet us there with the promise and presence of a God who would bring life out of them. Thomas, I believe, knew precisely what Paul would soon proclaim himself, and it is this, I think, which stands behind his insistence on seeing the wounds and put his fingers in the very nail holes. He wanted to be sure his brethren were putting their faith in the crucified One, the one who turned everything upside down and relativized every other picture of God we might believe in. He became the great doubter because of this, but I suspect that instead he was the most faithful and astute theologian among the original Apostles. He, like Paul, wanted to know Christ Crucified and ONLY Christ Crucified.

We should not trivialize Thomas' witness by transforming him into a run-of-the-mill empiricist and doubter (though doubting is an important piece of growth in faith)!! Instead, we should imitate his insistence: we are called upon to be followers of the Crucified God, and no other. Every version of God we meet should be closely examined for nail holes and the lance wound. Everyone should be checked for signs that this God is capable of and generous enough to assume such suffering on behalf of a creation he would reconcile and make whole. Only then do we know this IS the God proclaimed in the Gospels and the Epistles of Paul, the only one worthy of being followed even into the darkest reaches of human sin and death, the only One who meets us in the unexpected and even unacceptable place, the only one who loves us with an eternal love from which nothing can separate us.