Walking Zeroes? On Developing Theologies and Some Thoughts about Humility

A couple of things this last week caused me to think of the way my own theology has evolved over the decades. When I was an undergraduate doing Theology, my major professor had a couple of us do presentations on various topics fairly regularly. Sometimes Toni and I teamed up, and sometimes we opposed one another debate style. (Dear God, though often a great joy, was that ever painful sometimes!!) 

Toni was really creative and she loved using props! Once, after I had given my side of the presentation in the previous session, she came to class ready to begin her side of the argument. She had a huge copy of Denzinger's with her (this reference book lists all the heretical positions the church has ever pronounced on) and began by referring to my position. She opened the Denzinger's, pointed to the page, and, looking at the class, read, [[If anyone should say (my position on Universal salvation) ANATHEMA SIT (or, let [her] be anathema)!!]] Then she snapped the book closed with finality and, looking at me with satisfaction, sat down as if the debate was finished. Professor Dwyer roared with laughter (briefly!), Toni was really pleased with herself (much less briefly), and I was pretty ticked off!! (Have I said how much I loved Toni? We were best friends!!) Anyway, today, I believe even more strongly in, and would argue even more coherently, what is called apokatastasis ton panton --- the redemption of everything, or "universal salvation".

On another day we were presenting something together on the Theology of the Cross (perhaps Paul's theology seen from a Protestant (Lutheran?) perspective). In any case, we wanted to make the point that of ourselves we are nothing at all, while with God (or even from God's perspective), we are of (almost) infinite significance! As I got to the climax of my section, namely, "Without God, we are nothing at all!", Toni unexpectedly whipped out a child's pull toy and set it on the desk in front of us as the class looked on. It was an oversized "O" from the alphabet and it had little moveable feet with a weighted cord attached to the front of the "O". When the weight was dropped over the edge of the desk, the "O" walked the length of it in front of me. Toni explained, "We thought bringing a "walking ZERO" would make the point more memorable!" (She may have said something about ME being a walking ZERO without God, but I honestly can't remember that now -- I did say how much I loved her, right? -- Nevertheless, the point was made and the class "got it"!) On that day John Dwyer also laughed, Toni was pleased with herself, and I too thought the prop and the presentation as a whole were great.

The point we were trying to "walk home" is a really important one. It is central to understanding ourselves and the love of God. Namely, without God, without the grace of God, without the powerful presence of God that summons us into existence and dwells within us, we can be thought of as nothing, and in some ways, it is appropriate to say with Catherine of Sienna that God is ALL and we are nothing. But in other ways, this is simply not true and does a disservice to both God and ourselves. At some points, this truth will not only be unpalatable but pastorally harmful. In particular, it is not a theological truth (nor an anthropological one) we can use to bash folks over the head with because of their supposed "pride". It is one we must use extremely carefully, with appropriate nuance and sensitivity so that folks we say this to truly hear the love, freedom, and promise also embodied in this sentence!!

After all, God never says we are nothing. Jesus never says we are nothing. Instead, they proclaim the delight they take in each of us; they affirm how good God sees us to be and, how incredibly and unconditionally loved we are. And they remind us that we are incomplete without God, less than authentically human without him, incapable of loving as we are called to love without the Love-in-Act that dwells in, summons, and empowers us to love in the same way. When Jesus speaks of being able to do nothing but what he has seen the Father do, when he speaks of the unity between himself and his Abba when he affirms that knowing him means knowing God and seeing him means seeing God, Jesus is proclaiming the very nature of authentic humanity; more, he is indicating that like himself, we are truly human only when we live with and from/of God.

Yes, humility is a very good thing. We all need to be humble and perhaps sometimes it is good to call others to remember who they really are. It is important to recall, however, that humility has to do with being truly grounded --- grounded in the truth of who we really are and, as it said in today's Gospel from John, where we are truly from. To say that we are nothing without God can quickly devolve into an untruth, namely that we are nothing at all!! But that affirmation lacks humility!! It is inadequately grounded in the truth of how God values, loves, and sustains us at every second and how God breathes HIS life and promise into us in the same way. It is untrue to who God creates us as and calls us to become ever more fully. So, are we all "walking zeroes"? Perhaps, without God, we would have to say this. But -- and here is the critical piece of the truth we can never forget -- who among us is really ever (objectively) without God? Who among us is not loved and held as precious, a (potential) daughter or son of God at every moment? Who among us is not called and made in some way to be, at least potentially, a light to the world? 

What do I say about that prop that served an undergraduate presentation in theology so well? It was a good prop for a theological lecture, and in some limited ways, it expressed a profound theological and anthropological truth when used narrowly and carefully, but more generally? No. Humility, a loving truthfulness about who we really are in light of God's love, says something else that focuses on the way God forms, sustains, sees, and delights in us. It has its center in who God creates us to be and the potential we embody. None of us are EVER walking zeroes. Even in our worst failures, we remain God's precious creation. Saying that is not prideful, it is pastoral; it nurtures and empowers abundant life and an authentic humanity that is decidedly not some kind of nothing but the very image and temple of God!! 

Bishops and Delegates as Contrary to the "Supreme Independence" of a Hermit?

[[ Hi Sister Laurel, in your last post [09.September. 2022, On Needing People] the questions asked something about the supervision of the bishop being contrary to the vocation of a hermit. I don't think you answered that so let me ask it again even if it is not what the original questioner had in mind. I have always thought of hermits as supremely independent --- being able to walk away from everything and everyone to live alone, but c 603 requires one live one's life under the supervision of a diocesan bishop. You have written about having a delegate who serves you and the bishop in meeting with you regularly. Isn't all of this contrary to the supreme independence of the hermit? Thanks!!]]

Thanks for continuing the conversation and for taking it further than the original poster did. As you will no doubt guess, I am going to disagree with your position, not only because I differ somewhat (mainly in emphasis) on your understanding of hermit life but more, because I think you and I have different notions of independence.

In the first place, I don't think of a hermit as one who leaves everything and everyone "in order to be alone". I think of a hermit as having done these things to seek and live in communion with God and, therefore, to be the truest and fullest Self s/he can be. The purpose of the life is not about being alone, nor about being hidden, or poor, or any number of other things; the purpose of the life is to put God first, to allow God's will to love us fully and unconditionally to be realized in our one very singular and infinitely precious life. Yes, this will mean being alone, poor, hidden, chaste, celibate, and any number of other things, but all of those serve this foundational purpose; they must not be mistaken for it. There is a second half to this foundational purpose, namely, in real ways the hermit leaves everything and everyone and seeks to live in Communion with God and to become and be the truest, fullest, self she can be for the sake of others. 

Hermits are, first and foremost witnesses (martyrs) to the Love of God that is the deepest need of and sufficient for every person. We "leave everything and everyone" to the extent and in the way we do so in order to live in the silence of solitude (life with God alone) so that others may also know that God alone is enough (i.e., only God can create, sustain, and complete us as persons). I want to be clear that hermits are not the only ones who witness to this truth; for instance, men and women religious also do so, but they image the way that occurs in community and hermits image this truth in the vividness of the silence of solitude. (Both hermits and cenobites live community, silence, and solitude, but they do so differently with different emphases in their lives.) Again, who the hermit is and what the hermit does, is meant to be a gift and ministry to and for the sake of others; she lives her life for the sake of others -- beginning with God's own sake.

So, with that important piece in place let's think about the term independence and especially its sense in Christian theology. To be truly free is to be empowered to be the person God wills us to be. It is to be able to live authentically and fully, the potential which is ours by virtue of our creation by God. There is a "free from" dimension to this empowerment as well as a "free for" dimension. For the person who exists in and through God in Christ, and to the extent this is true, there is freedom from sin (that is, from estrangement from God, self, and others), from ego, from much of the woundedness our lives in space and time cause us. This means too then, that there is the freedom to be Oneself for God, for the sake of God's good creation, and certainly for the sake of all who are precious to God. The hermit's freedom is very much this kind of freedom in both senses and dimensions.

If what one calls independence is ruled by ego, it is not genuine freedom. If we are not free to receive our lives as gift or others in a similar way, we do not know genuine freedom. If we are not free to give ourselves generously, to love and trust others in ways that empower them similarly, we are not truly free at all. Because we are only human as part of a community, because our humanity is a gift of God which is realized in and through our love of God and others and theirs of/for us, we need these same others if we are to be free. God is a community of love and God wills to draw us into that same reality; indeed, he has made us for this. By definition, humanity itself, and human freedom therefore is defined in terms of such community.

All of this makes the solitude of the authentic hermit incredibly paradoxical. To the degree it is genuine, it will be an expression of our seeking and being in intimate community with God, with our deepest selves, and, in other ways, with others. No matter what else we walk away from, we cannot walk away from God or our deepest selves without betraying the very nature of our existence as human, and too then, our vocation and its solitude in the process. By extension, we cannot walk away from others --- though most of the time we relate to them differently than most people do.

The vocation I have begun describing here is both difficult, rare, and, as noted, incredibly paradoxical. It is easy to mistake it for the isolation and misanthropy that marks the loner in today's society because externally these two can look a lot alike. When one doesn't know that (seeking and receiving) communion with God is the primary motivation and goal of the hermit, it is easy to imagine that the vaunted "eremitical freedom" means the freedom to walk away from every relationship and responsibility and do whatever one wants whenever one wants to do it. Adding to the confusion is the fact that the word "hermit" has been used in these two antithetical ways, again based on some externals alone. But authentic eremitical life is demanding, and because communion with God (being loved and loving in return in the way God loves and empowers one to love) is a difficult goal which requires the whole of one's life, it really does require supervision and work with a skilled spiritual director, etc., to keep one moving forward in receiving and embodying one's deepest truth.

Sin is, in the way I have defined it above, easy; refusing Life, which is always a gift of God, allowing it to slip away, choosing counterfeits and substitutes is easy. Holiness (being true to God and to one's deepest self in order to love as God loves), requires discipline, patience, commitment, and love --- including the love of those who know us and God, and who can help empower us to choose and continue to receive Life at every turn. In my own life those persons are a rare and precious gift. They include those who have agreed to serve me as spiritual director, as well as Director or delegate on behalf of my bishop and diocese to be sure that this vocation is lived well and in a way which is edifying to the life of the church and the understanding of all the faithful. 

The irony is that I could never be a hermit as c 603 defines one and as Christian tradition understands us without the assistance of others. I could never live the aloneness of a hermit with an ecclesial vocation by myself. To say with my life that God alone is sufficient for us, requires not just being embedded in the People of God and in God's own life, it requires those others who mediate God's love to me and remind me of those for whom I live as well. Even as a recluse (were I to find myself called to this even rarer form of eremitical life) I would require others, and that means others to and for whom I would feel grateful, those I would pray for, come to know in one way and another, and whose lives would therefore enrich the tapestry of my life as integral threads composing dimensions of my solitude. 

I'll stop this here, because I think I could keep writing for quite a while on this critical paradox. If you haven't read the following post, you should give it a look. It approaches some dimensions of this response -- becoming human, becoming holy, etc. -- with different imagery. That might be helpful to you. Inner Work and transparency to God As always, please get back to me if you have additional questions! 

Can/Should Hermits Sing Office??

[[Dear Sister, I do have a question, or rather a question put to me by some people. My prayer-life is structured around the Liturgy of the Hours, which I chant/recite and sing out loud on my own. When hearing about how I pray the Hours vocally, the questioners (priests) could not get their heads wrapped around the fact that I could try and live a life of silence and then not pray the Hours silently(!). I think their surprise mostly has to do with how they perceive silence and the silent life. Their question has set me thinking. I am planning to give them an answer.

There are some points I want to address in my answer. - The difference between personal prayer and the prayer of the Church. - How the Church’s liturgy presupposes a holistic (non-dualistic) anthropology. Celebration/worship is therefore not just something cerebral or disembodied, but uses all our senses and physical, mental and emotional faculties, and sanctifies our entire person. - How silence can lead to song, and in fact is a prerequisite for true sound/song/speech/word/Word. - How the General Instruction on the Liturgy of the Hours speaks of moments of ‘Sacred Silence’ and in doing so therefore implies vocal prayer. - How although external silence is an important instrument in prayer-life, it does not determine and qualify the silence of solitude.

How would you react? What would be the points you would want to make clear? Perhaps you feel the Hours should indeed be prayed silently by a hermit? And if so, why? Are these suitable questions for a nice long blog-posting?! I hope so👌 If they are, there is no rush. First enjoy Christmas as well as enjoying rounding off your Mark-studies! (I have a another question up my sleeve, but will reserve that for 2021.....)]]

Many thanks for your question and your patience. We did finish the Gospel of Mark about a week and a half ago and are preparing to do the Gospel of Matthew now. But I have some weeks before that needs to be ready so here I am, finally getting to your question!!! Moreover, it's my Feast Day (Conversion of  St Paul in case I don't get this finished this evening) so it's a very good day to think and write about singing Office and the place of singing more generally in my own life!

 When I think of the way folks reacted to you I would be inclined to react myself by laughing a bit and commenting on how little hermits and their lifestyle are understood today (and have been all through history for that matter)! All of your points are fine; any complete response would include them or some version of them. (I have a quibble or question regarding your use of the term "qualify" in your observation on the silence of solitude and its relation to physical or external silence, but I get your main point and agree with that.) What seems especially important to me are your emphases on the whole person and the relation of physical  or external silence to Word; the distinction (and overlap) between physical silence and what canon 603 calls "the silence of solitude" is also critical. In order to speak about these important elements, I would contextualize them within a theology of the obedient life (the life of prayer) and of human being as a dialogical reality or language "event" which is meant and called to mediate the presence of the real God in space and time. So, does the silence of eremitical life prevent hermits from singing Office? Why or why not?

First of all then, I suppose I would not say that I live a life of silence so much as I live a life of prayer centered on God which is open, attentive, and responsive to God. More, I live this life within an ecclesial context of physical solitude. That, of course absolutely requires physical silence, but important as it is, the eremitical life is not primarily about silence. If your friends, for instance, believe that silence is the overarching value of your life or is something you value without reference to a larger reality, viz, the call to obedient life, it could lead  to their misunderstand the nature of eremitical life. On the other hand, if they understand that it is seeking or being open to God that is primary,  that we are committed to learning to listen for/to as well as to respond fully to the One who reveals Godself in Christ to/in every person as well as in the whole of creation, they might have a bit easier time understanding the relative importance of silence and too, the difference between physical or external silence and the silence of solitude. 

My first point would be then that in the eremitic life obedience is more primary than silence; silence serves obedience in the eremitical life, both in terms of listening and in terms of being appropriately responsive. Both dimensions are included in the Christian notion of "hearkening" or "obedience". Thus, precisely because silence serves obedience (as does physical solitude in this context), it means that other things can and will relativize the hermit's physical silence. This is especially true if these things also contribute not only to her prayer, but to becoming God's own prayer in the world.

This last week I was rereading Wencel's book on Eremitic Life and I came across a passage I had once marked: "To search for God means above all to enter the way of faith and silence that releases the spring of prayer at the bottom of the human heart." I believe, though, that he would agree with me that once it is released, it may express itself in song. (It may also express itself in poetry, painting, music, writing, etc.) Wencel also identifies God as the original abyss of silence, and in the same sentence he refers to this same reality as a "song of love." Wencel understands the Mystery which is at the heart of eremitic life and finds no conflict in identifying the deepest silence one can know with the song of love it also is. He is not concerned about the paradox he has constructed here because he knows these two things held together in tension express a larger and ineffable truth. Prayer shares the same paradox and is moved by the same Mystery. Hermits know silence. They move in it and through it and look for it to help transform them into an expression of the "silence of solitude" -- something much richer than the sum of physical silence and aloneness. It seems to me then that as I point to and then celebrate the coming to be of that deeper, richer reality canon 603 calls  "the silence of solitude," it is entirely  appropriate, even necessary that one will often do so in song!

Another piece of my own thought on this is the notion that human beings are dialogical at their very core. We are, in Gerhard Ebeling's terms, "language events" --- brought into being by the Word/Logos of God and brought to ever greater maturity and articulateness by every lifegiving word spoken to us and every integral response we make. We are beings who are summoned into existence and called to ever greater authenticity and fullness of being by God and our lives are shaped by the way we hearken to this Presence. We begin our lives incapable of speech or of choosing our own direction or allowing God to shape our lives. Circumstances may keep us relatively incapable, relatively mute -- though at the same time they may wound us so seriously that we are little more than a defensive "No!" or a scream of anguish. When we are loved, however --- consistently, truly, and profoundly loved, more and more we will find our own voice and express the love that has called us to growing wholeness. 

Sometimes our expression of this true existence will be silence, but it will not be the silence of muteness. Rather it will be the silence of a heart too full of awe and gratitude to express with words. Other times we will (try to) find words for it and write poetry or prose commensurate with what we are trying (and always failing) to express. And sometimes it will be in music or song. This does not mean we only sing when we are joyful; sometimes what we sing will have the character of lament, for instance. What is always true is that as we respond to the prayer God is making of us, we use the form of response which best suits the situation and who we are at that moment in time. Just as we learn to pray our lives, so too do we learn to sing our lives. Again, it seems appropriate then that some of our prayer, but especially psalms and canticles be sung when that fits the circumstances.

I do sing Office (especially Compline or Night Prayer) --- unless I have a cold or (sometimes) am otherwise not feeling well. You are entirely correct that silence can lead to song and that it is a prerequisite to speech/word/ song. I remember in High School being taught in a music class that the rests (silences) in the music were as important as the notes because the rests helped transform noise into meaningful sound or music. The teacher pointed out that without rests (appropriate, measured silences) we would have only (meaningless) noise. If we are to become God's own prayers in our world, if we are to hear God and respond appropriately, then silence is critically necessary. We need silence to become an articulate expression of and response to God's own song of love. And if we are moved to sing in response, then sing we must. That is the way of genuine obedience; after all, c 603 hermits make vows of obedience, not silence!

I will leave this here for now. You have been more than patient and for right now this is all I have to add to the points you made so well. If I should think of something I left out I will add another post -- a kind of "part II" perhaps. I am well aware I have not spoken at all about the ecclesial nature of the consecrated hermit's vocation here and though there are a number of articles here about that, I well may need to do that as an enlargement on your own point re: private and liturgical prayer. At the same time I haven't said much here about the distinction between physical or external silence and the "silence of solitude" and I definitely may need to say more about that. Significantly, Canon 603 does not read "silence and solitude" but rather "the silence of solitude". The most important thing about it for the purposes of this post is that it is always richer than the apparent sum of its parts because eremitical solitude itself is not just about being alone, but about existing fully and integrally in an ongoing, active, dialogue with God (and all that is of God). In the meantime, I hope this finds you well and in good voice!!

Laetare Sunday: Embracing Stricter Separation from the World as a Way of Rejoicing in our call to Authentic Humanity

This afternoon I attended a retreat (virtual) offered as a gift by the Mission San Jose Dominicans. The presenter was Father Jim Clark from the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. It was a significant piece of an especially rich Advent season marked by the way my own inner work has come together along with resonances with Scripture from the Mark class and reflection on Canon 603 and the concept of stricter separation from the world --- something I mentioned in an earlier post because of the role it played in the renewal of my vows and in the notion of Sabbath as well. In today's retreat the presenter spoke of becoming our truest or authentic selves and of incarnating God in the process --- ideas which will certainly be familiar to readers of this blog. It reflects that process of kenosis (self emptying) I have sometimes described as "becoming wholly transparent to God."

In speaking of "guarding the heart" and "preparing the way of the Lord" Clarke referred to being careful of or avoiding anything causing us to lose sight of who we truly are. What struck me most about this was that it is a very good way to speak of what canon 603 calls, "stricter separation from the world". Ordinarily I define "the world" in the sense used by the canon in terms of anything "which resists or is antithetical to God in Christ (or to the love of God)" but this notion that "the world" could also be defined in terms of "anything causing us to lose sight of who we truly are" and are called to be was new to me. I have certainly approached this insight but never really saw or articulated it so directly before.  What I came to see  regarding what canon 603's stricter separation from the world requires of us is that it serves our focused journeying toward the realization of our truest selves and that it is primarily a positive element in the canon and in the spiritual life in so far as it helps prevent us from losing sight of who we really are. Also, of course, in and of itself stricter separation from the world can and inevitably will be misunderstood without this correlative and primary focus on the true or authentic self which God summons into being at each moment of our lives.

Father Clarke's presentation began with Mary Oliver's poem, "The Journey", which set the tone and key of the entire presentation:

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice—

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do—

determined to save

the only life you could save.

Learning to leave all of those distracting, distorting, and falsely defining voices behind to attend to that one new voice which is truly our very own, the voice of God which dwells within us as our deepest truth, our truest identity, and which calls us by name to truly be, requires we embrace a process of kenosis. It is a process in which slowly the stars begin to burn through the clouds that have surrounded us and prevented clarity; in fact, it is a process in which life begins to burn within us ever more abundantly if our journey is on track. But to stride deeper and deeper into the world of that authentic voice or call, will mean embracing a stricter separation from anything that obstructs our view of and commitment to becoming our truest selves. This really is the process of Advent. It is the process of the inner (growth) work I have referred to occasionally here; and it is the process and meaning of stricter separation from the world called for by canon 603 and echoed in our similar Sabbath practice. 

There is pain, struggle, and darkness in this kenotic process, but ultimately, it is marked by a profound freedom and joy as we embrace God and the deepest selves God creates within us. During this third week of Advent rejoice in the Advent journey. Rejoice as Isaiah call us to do in today's first reading and let us never lose sight of the God-given splendor of the one God calls us to be.

Rejoice heartily in the LORD,

in God is the joy of (our) soul;

for he has clothed (us) with a robe of salvation

and wrapped (us) in a mantle of justice,

like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem,

like a bride bedecked with her jewels.

On Transfiguration and Authentic Humanity

I am thinking about transfiguration and what the story of Jesus' transfiguration tells us. The story I have posted many times here regarding Jesus' transfiguration involves the main point that we don't see what is right in front of us; we see what we expect or are conditioned to see. Especially we don't always see the dignity of every human person or the profound potential which resides at their core. We sometimes speak of the human person as imago dei and we may recognize the vocation each one has to become imago Christi, but my sense is that most times folks don't quite know what to do with these references. How seriously are we meant to take them? Are they just a form of poetry or do they say something about the literal truth about our nature?

During Lent our focus tends to be more on the penitential, on our own sinfulness or "falling short" of the great potential and call that does exist at the core of our being than it is on that potential itself. We locate God outside of ourselves as judge, but can neglect the truth which the human heart reveals, namely that the human heart is the privileged place where God bears witness to Godself, and that the source and center of human life is divinity itself. During Lent then, while we attend to a need to do penance, to pray more regularly, and to develop the generosity of those who are loved unconditionally by God, we must not neglect the underlying conviction of the season, namely, we do these things because the person we are most truly shines like the sun and mediates the life and light of God to our world. Lenten penance is not merely about tidying up our moral lives or cleaning up the minor deficiencies or failings which mark and mar those lives; it is about getting in better touch with the incredible potential we carry within us and are called to embody exhaustively for God's sake and the sake of his entire creation.

To be a human being is to be the image of God. To be authentically human is to become imago Christi --- not as some pale reminder of a distant historical figure we admire a bit (or even love a lot), but as those who allow him to become the very shape and quality of the way we think and feel, approach and act towards our God, ourselves, and others. When the original disciples looked at Jesus they saw the Kingdom of God alive in our world; in him they saw human freedom as the counterpart of divine sovereignty and divine power made perfect (fully realized) in weakness. When we look at one another we should see the very same things. In Christ we see God, in ourselves we should see Christ. Transfiguration is at the heart of Lent, not only because conversion from sin is necessary, but because our deepest, truest selves yearn to shine through and remake us from our hearts outward. Transfiguration reveals what is truest, deepest, and lives right in front of us in every person and in ourselves all the time; it is a synonym for the conversion and reconciliation (the healing) of ourselves so that the divinity we know as "Love-in-Act," shines through and illuminates the whole. That is the essence of authentic humanity.

Parable of the Sower/Soils: Becoming Hearers of the Word

 On Friday we heard the parable of the sower/soils, at least the latter or "analogy portion" of the parable where Jesus explains the story's meaning. We all know it well; seed is sown broadcast-style over a wide swath of ground. Some falls on the path, some on rocky ground, some of thorny ground, and some on rich ground. Jesus makes analogies of the act of broadcasting seed on each of these types of ground. When seed falls on the path it represents the hearer of the Word who is without understanding and the Word sown in his/her heart is stolen away by "the Evil One"; when seed falls on rocky ground it represents the person who receives the Word with joy and grace, but who is "without root" (or fails to allow the Word to take root within her) and falls away from life in and from the Word. When seed falls on thorny ground we are given a picture of the person who hears the Word, allows it to take root, but then allows anxiety and a yearning for other forms of riches to choke the life of the word out; and finally Jesus portrays the person in whom the Word takes root and bears an enormously rich harvest, 30, 60, 100 fold.

In each image Jesus defines the human person as a hearer of the Word of God. Moreover he points out that the nature of one's personhood is a reflection of the priority, attention, and care given to this Word and to the human heart which receives it. To understand the parable is to allow oneself to "stand under" the promise and challenge of the Word of God --- to allow oneself to be literally inspired by it --- shaped, consoled, healed, and impelled by the Word of Love and mercy it always is. Parables are not understood in the way a mathematical or other problem might be; they are not understood even in the way some texts are. We do not understand them when we analyze them and determine what they say; we understand them when we enter into the story and become part of it --- when we allow it to make a new sense of our lives while calling and empowering us to embrace this with our whole heart and mind.

Several images came to mind when reflecting on this reading. For instance, I remembered a time several years ago my pastor asked the adults present in a weekday Mass to name their favorite Scripture story or share their favorite Scripture verse with students from our school who were attending Mass with us that day. Many of us quoted a verse that was personally significant. One after the other, verse after verse, people revealed themselves as "hearers of the Word" and alluded to the deep story of their own lives in relationship with God in Christ which was, to some extent, captured or mirrored in the verse they shared. Religious do this with the motto they choose for their rings, for instance. My own is, "God's power is perfected in weakness." It is the short version of Paul's, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is perfected in weakness." Almost every moment or mood of my life as well as every dream and goal which shape my life and vocation is captured in this verse from 2 Corinthians.

My director/delegate recounts two Scriptures which have served similarly in her own life. At profession she heard, "I have raised you up to show my power through you"; when she began a retreat ministry which allowed her to practice PRH, a methodical approach to personal healing and growth, the first liturgy at the retreat center used a passage from Deuteronomy 31. Sister Marietta found herself personally addressed in the line where Moses commissions Joshua: "You must put them in possession of their heritage." In this context heritage meant that deep Self, that sacred well of potentiality which is both the eternal gift of God and our own truest reality. It is the Word of God spoken within us, the sacred "name" God calls us to embody as no one else can or will.  Throughout our lives, whether through choices we make or circumstances that befall us, our ability to attend to, embrace, and embody this heritage can be wounded and crippled. As a result our hearts will contain tamped down pathways, rocky and thorn-choked ground as well as deep layers of rich soil. But the injury done over the years can also be healed and some forms of pastoral ministry and the work associated with it as well as prayer, lectio divina, etc can greatly assist in this. Through these we can become the truly free persons we are called to be, unique articulations of the Word of God.

As I reflected on the parable this last week and thought on what it would mean to become the rich soil in which the Word of God comes to fruition I remembered the last scene from Ray Bradbury's short novel, Fahrenheit 451. In this dystopia where lives are empty and suicide is common, books are forbidden. Firemen no longer put out house fires; they locate houses in which owners have hidden books and douse them with kerosene, books and all, and set them ablaze. Sometimes they burn the owners as well. Montag, a fireman, steals some books and fails to turn them in. One of these is a Bible. Eventually Montag himself becomes the target of the government and the fire department comes to burn his house and the books hidden there; Montag is to be killed by lethal injection. But he escapes and runs to the forests outside the city. There he meets communities of human beings who have also escaped the empty, fruitless lives so common in that time.

Each member of these communities has given themselves over to a work of literature, and in the last scene we see an image of persons embodying a particular literary opus and "handing on" these works to others who will follow them in a similar embodiment. The work involved may be a book or chapter of a book, a passage or classic poem. If one wants to "read" Dante, or a play of Shakespeare, or the Gospel of Mark, for instance, one is sent to a particular person who will recite it for them -- as many times as one needs. Montag finds his own life of struggle, searching, loss and gain, reflected in Ecclesiastes: "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven." As in Fahrenheit 451, or the other examples cited above, the parable of the sower/soils challenges each of us to allow the Word of God to shape and condition us completely or exhaustively. It asks each of us to become an embodiment of that same Word. We are not merely to listen to or recite a piece of Scripture, but to give ourselves over to the Word of God and in some way to become its living presence in our world. May God bring to completion the work (He) has begun in each of us!

On the Purposes and Nature of Canon 603

Dear Sister O'Neal, was canon 603 established to regularize hermits in the Western Church? Does the church refer to or have recluses any more? I am asking because of the following passage: [[It may be interesting to note that now, the Western Church has, as recently as1983, developed a means to regularize hermits (the term recluse has dropped from Church use) by creating CL603.  Thus, hermits who wish to receive bishop approval and be publicly professed under that bishop's direction within their given diocese, may do so. At this time, the canon regulization (sic) is not at all pressure upon hermits who may still prefer private profession of vows within the Consecrated Life of the Church.  Some bishops may prefer to not have hermits in their dioceses nor to deal with the regulized (sic) aspect of CL603, either; but I know of no statistics current on this point.]] I know there are problems with referring to "private profession" "within the consecrated life" of the Church so I am not going to ask you about that. Thank you.]]

No, generally speaking canon 603 was not promulgated to "regularize" solitary hermits in the Western Church. The church from diocese to diocese rather than with universal law had done (or tried to do) that in the middle ages in a number of ways. Primary among these was establishing common Rules for hermits and funneling many of them into monastic communities and such. (Remember that regularize and Rule come from the same root, regula.) As a result solitary hermits in the Western Church pretty much died out by the 15th or 16th Century. Canon 603 was established as a way of recognizing this significant but very rare vocation in universal law for the first time and allowing it to reveal itself on its own terms with ecclesial supervision. This was especially desirable because, as I have noted several times here, solemnly professed monks were discovering vocations to solitude after years in the monastery but because this was not an option for them under their institute's proper law, they had to leave their monasteries and be dispensed and secularized if they were to live as hermits at all. Bishop Remi de Roo and others argued at Vatican II that such a significant and prophetic vocation should be universally recognized as a "state of perfection." This finally occurred with canon 603 and the publication of the 1983 revised code of Canon Law.

Canon 603 serves to define eremitical life (c. 603.1) in well-accepted traditional terms and to provide for living it as an ecclesial vocation in the name of the Church under the supervision of the hermit's local bishop (c. 603.2). It is important to remember that this canon expects the hermit to write her own Rule rooted in her own experience of the way God is calling her to live this life. This is a necessary piece of the Church's discernment of the vocation and of readiness for vows. The bishop does NOT write the hermit's Rule nor is she forced to adopt an already-established Rule --- as was often the case in the Middle Ages. She lives the ecclesial definition of eremitical life in her own way according to her own rhythms, gifts, and needs, but she does so with the aid of a spiritual director and also a diocesan delegate who assists the Bishop in making sure the vocation is lived well and in a healthy, representative, and edifying way. There is nothing onerous about this arrangement for one called to this vocation precisely because eremitical life is not about simply doing as one pleases, but instead about responding to an ecclesially mediated vocation in ways which are edifying to the church even as they are life giving to the hermit.

Regarding recluses, the Church has not dropped the term. She uses it mainly for those very rare hermits who belong to certain Orders and are admitted to reclusion by their communities. The vocation to reclusion is supervised and supported by the congregation, particularly by the superior of the house where the recluse resides. Only the Camaldolese and the Carthusians are allowed to have recluses today. (This includes the Camaldolese nuns who are famous for supporting the vocation of Nazarena, a recluse who lived at the house in Rome.) A diocesan hermit who desires to become a recluse would need the permission of her bishop, recommendations by her spiritual director and her delegate along with significant support by her parish or diocesan community to make healthy reclusion possible. The urgency here is to maintain a specifically ecclesial vocation in which the hermit's vocation to authentic humanity is fostered. If solitary eremitical life is rare, vocations to genuine reclusion are rare to the nth degree but neither the vocation nor the term have been dropped by the Church. Instead, the Church is careful in allowing hermits to embrace reclusion and applies the term rarely.

Because she esteems the eremitical vocation as a gift of the Holy Spirit and understands not only how rare it is but also how easy it would be for misanthropes and other eccentrics to distort and misrepresent it the Church takes care to define it in universal law and to include it as a specific and new form of consecrated life. This means that not "anything goes". Misanthropes need not apply. Lone folks who are not actually embracing a life defined by the constitutive elements of the canon and who do not show clear signs of thriving in such a situation are not hermits despite the more common usage at large in our world. Meanwhile, those who have embraced an authentic desert vocation as canon 603 defines it cannot identify themselves as Catholic hermits unless the Church herself gives them this right in an explicit and public act of profession, consecration, and commissioning. Lay hermits (hermits who, vocationally speaking, are in the lay state, whether with or without private vows) exist and these vocations should be esteemed but they are not vocations to the consecrated state of life nor are they lived in the name of the Church.

Can we speak of canon 603 serving a regularizing purpose today? I suppose if one distinguishes the usage in history, recognizes the relative dearth of eremitical vocations in the Western Church over the past 4-5 centuries, and is clear about the extremely positive way eremitical life was spoken of in the interventions of Bp Remi de Roo at Vatican II and canon 603 subsequently came to be, it is possible to think of this canonical act of defining things carefully as an act of regularizing those who call themselves hermits. After all the canon is a norm which prevents misunderstanding, fraud, and hypocrisy and establishes a universal standard by which the whole Church can recognize and measure authentic eremitical life --- especially vocations to consecrated eremitical life. It brings such hermits under the norms of universal law and the structures associated with consecrated life in the Church. Still, we need to be clear that "regularization" was not the original or primary purpose of canon 603, especially when it is measured against the steps taken in earlier centuries to "regularize" the relative crowds of both authentic and inauthentic hermits who peopled Italy, England, Germany, etc.

Moreover, as noted above, given the canon's requirement that the hermit write her own Rule and thus its insurance of individuality, freedom, and flexibility in fidelity to a traditional and divine calling, even now "regularization" is a word we should probably use carefully. A delegate who serves the hermit and the diocese to protect in very personal ways the legitimate rights and obligations undertaken by the hermit in profession also suggests this. In particular, any suggestion that the canon is meant to shoehorn hermits into some kind of ecclesiastical or legal straitjacket which limits their freedom (or God's!) is one we should assiduously avoid. In my experience, with canon 603 we are faced with a norm which creates a kind of sacred space where an authentic vocation to solitary eremitical life may be recognized and flourish and where authentic human freedom is enabled to reach the perfection associated with holiness and communion with God. After all, one does not "regularize" a gift of the Holy Spirit; instead, one defines or cooperates with the Spirit in defining sacred spaces and mediatory "structures" or channels where God's gift may be formally hallowed and recognized as hallowing the larger context of the Church and world. I think canon 603 functions in this way.

Feast of Maximillian Kolbe (Reprise)

Today is the feast day of Maximillian Kolbe who died on this day in Auschwitz after two months there, and two weeks in the bunker of death-by-starvation. Kolbe had offered to take the place of a prisoner selected for starvation in reprisal when another prisoner was found missing and thought to have escaped. The Kommandant, taken aback by Kolbe's dignity, and perhaps by the unprecedented humanity being shown, stepped back and then granted the request. Father Maximillian sustained his fellow prisoners and assisted them in their dying. He was one of four remaining prisoners who were murdered in Block 13 (see illustration below) by an injection of Carbolic Acid when the Nazi's deemed their death by starvation was taking too long. When the bunker was visited by a secretary-interpreter immediately after the injections, he found the three other prisoners lying on the ground, begrimed and showing the ravages of the suffering they had undergone. Maximillian Kolbe sat against the wall, his face serene and radiant. Unlike the others he was clean and bright.

The stories told about Maximillian Kolbe's presence and influence in Aushwitz all stress a couple of things: first, there was his great love of God, Mary the Imaculata, and his fellow man; secondly, it focused on the tremendous humanity he lived out and modelled in the midst of a hell designed in every detail to dehumanize and degrade. These two things are intimately interrelated of course, and they give us a picture of authentic holiness which, extraordinary as it might have seemed in Auschwitz, is nothing less and nothing more than the vocation we are each called to in Christ. Together, these two dimensions of true holiness/authentic humanity result in "a life lived for others," as a gift to them in many ways -- self-sacrifice, generosity, kindness, courage, etc. In particular, in Auschwitz it was Maximillian's profound and abiding humanity which allowed others to remember, reclaim, and live out their own humanity in the face of the Nazi's dehumanizing machine. No greater gift could have been imagined in such a hell.

I think it is easy to forget this fundamental vocation, or at least to underestimate its value and challenge. We sometimes think our humanity is a given, an accomplished fact rather than a task and call to be accomplished. We also may think that it is possible to be truly human in solitary splendor. But our humanity is our essential vocation and it is something we only achieve in relation to God, his call, his mercy and love, his companionship --- and his people! (And this is as true for hermits and recluses as it is true for anyone else.) Likewise, we may think of vocation as a call to religious life, priesthood, marriage, singleness, eremitism, etc, but always, these are "merely" the paths towards achieving our foundational vocation to authentic humanity. Of course, it is not that we do not need excellent priests, religious, husbands and wives, parents, and so forth, but what is more true is that we need excellent human beings --- people who take the call and challenge to be genuinely human with absolute seriousness and faithfulness.

Today's gospel confronts us with a person who failed at that vocation. Extended mercy and the complete forgiveness of an unpayable debt, this servant went out into his world and failed to extend even a fraction of the same mercy to one of his fellows. He was selfish, ungrateful, and unmindful of who he was in terms of his Master or the generosity which had been shown him. He failed to remain in touch with that mercy and likewise he refused to extend it to others as called upon to do. He failed in his essential humanity and in the process he degraded and punished a fellow servant as inferior to himself when he should have done the opposite. Contrasted with this, and forming the liturgical and theological context for hearing this reading today, is the life of Maximillian Kolbe. Loved with an everlasting love, touched by God's infinite mercy and grace, Father Maximillian knew and affirmed who he truly was. More, in a situation of abject poverty and ultimate weakness, he remained in contact with the Source of his own humanity as the infinite well from which he would draw strength, dignity, courage, forgiveness, and compassion when confronted with a reality wholly dedicated to shattering, degrading, and destroying the humanity of those who became its victims. In every way he was the embodiment of St Paul's citation, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness!"

Block 13 where the "starvation cells" were

In Auschwitz it is true that some spoke of Kolbe as a saint, and many knew he was a priest, but in this world where all were stripped of names and social standing of any kind, what stood out to everyone was Maximillian Kolbe's love for God and his fellow man; what stood out, in other words, was his humanity. Holiness for the Christian is defined in these terms. Authentic humanity and holiness are synonyms in Christianity, and both are marked by the capacity to love and be loved,  first (by) God and then (by) all those he has dignified as his image and holds as precious. In a world too-often marked by mediocrity and even outright inhumanity, a world too frequently dominated by those structures, institutions, and dynamics which seem bigger than we are and incapable of being resisted or changed, we need to remember Maximillian Kolbe's example. Oftentimes we focus on serving others, feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless and the like, and these things are important. But in Kolbe's world when very little of this kind of service was possible (though Kolbe did what was possible and prudent here) what stood out was not only the crust of bread pressed into a younger priest's hands, the cup of soup given gladly to another, but the very great and deep dignity and impress of his humanity. And of course it stood out because beyond and beneath the need for food and shelter, what everyone was in terrible danger of losing was a sense of --- and capacity to act in terms of -- their own great dignity and humanity.

Marked above all as one loved by God, Father Maximillian lived out of that love and mercy. He extended it again and again (70 X 7) to everyone he met, and in the end, he made the final sacrifice: he gave his own life so that another might live. An extraordinary vocation marked by extraordinary holiness? Yes. But also our OWN vocation, a vocation to "ordinary" and true holiness, genuine humanity. As I said above, "In particular, in Auschwitz it was Maximillian's profound and abiding humanity which allowed others to remember, reclaim, and live out their own humanity in the face of the Nazi's dehumanizing machine. No greater gift could have been imagined in such a hell." In many ways this is precisely the gift we are called upon in Christ to be for our own times. Matthew's call to make forgiveness a way of life is a key to achieving this. May Saint Kolbe's example inspire us to fulfill our vocations in exemplary ways.

Is Faith opposed to Charity?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I shall be thankful if you can clarify the following. Does dogmatic faith in any way promote Christian charity? Reading Luke's parable of the good Samaritan I get a feeling that Jesus was primarily concerned with charity and less with faith. 

In the parable we find two persons who are given credentials of faith-- one is a priest and the other a Levite. Both however are personifications of inhuman callousness and exclusiveness.The Samaritan on the other hand has neither faith nor dogma(Jesus does not even mention whether he is a believer or not).Samaritan however has a human element and conscience that is responsive to the sufferings of others. I am inclined to believe that the more one thinks of faith , the more exclusive one becomes. Moreover the more emphasis church gives to dogmatic faith, the more it thinks of organisational cohesiveness, organisational uniformity,preservation of hierarchy and less about Jesus Christ who always thought of the human element.From what I have read about church history ,I feel that whenever the Church was concerned with dogma and faith there were instances of excesses at times lapsing into drastic inhuman measures like forced conversions ,inquisition and burning at the stakes.

So the question is , don't you think that the terms faith and charity pull in opposite directions making a Christian feel rather uncomfortable - faith pulls towards exclusiveness, rigidity,blind loyalty to the dogma and organisation hampering concern for individuals; and charity pulls towards inclusiveness ,concern for the feelings of others and universal philanthropy that transcends organisations and beliefs. I had asked a few questions in the past and received very convincing replies from you. Hence this question.]]

Interesting question. Thanks for sending it on to me. You use the term "dogmatic faith" by which I think you mean faith in doctrine or dogma and you contrast that with charity. You then conclude that Jesus was about charity but not faith when in fact I think you mean Jesus fostered love and was unconcerned with dogma or doctrine. You also link concern with doctrine or dogma with inhuman abuses (which you call faith) and note that charity seems to pull in the opposite direction. My problem here is that the way you are using the term "faith" is neither Biblical nor theologically rich enough; it is far too narrow a notion to call "faith" and might better be called belief. (Thus, though this is both necessarily and unfortunately a bit too simplistic, you might consider that we believe in content --- which doctrines and dogmas are ---  while we have faith in persons or living realities like God, or friends.)

It seems to me that narrowing the term in the way you have so that it refers only to adherence to or concern with doctrine is precisely the problem you want to avoid, and precisely the reason there have been problems in the history of faith like those you mention. Instead you need to recover a broader, richer, and more Scriptural sense of the term faith --- a sense which includes appropriate honoring of content (which we call doctrine and dogma) while not making that the be all and end all of the reality of faith. (Doctrine and dogma have a place in mature faith, but dogmatism and all that goes with that does not!)

The most fundamental meaning of the term faith is a responsive (or obedient) trust. (cf Rom 10:11, Phil 1:29, Gal 2:16) To have faith means to entrust oneself to another. Once one has done that a number of things will happen. If the person (or God) is worthy of that trust we will find that we become more fully human, that we grow in our capacity to love others without condition, that we become holier people (another way of saying the previous two things), etc. We become persons of confidence, courage and hope, marked by that person's affect on us in light of our having entrusted ourselves to them. Remember all the times in the Gospels that we hear Jesus saying to someone who trusted him, "Go, your faith has made you whole, " or something similar. Thus, far from being antithetical to charity, faith leads directly TO charity. It empowers love as the other person's love moves us beyond ourselves and out to others (or back to community which illness, etc may have deprived us of). In other words faith creates the capacity for community; it does not, when genuine, lead to exclusivism. Similarly it leads to the capacity for compassion precisely because when faith is well-founded it leads to the situation of being loved and loving; compassion is never exclusionary.

In the parable of the Good Samaritan those who fail in compassion are not seen as men of genuine faith --- though they hold fast to the letter of the law; the Good Samaritan, who falls outside the Law and is despised by men of the law, is one who fulfills the law more fully than either of the others. He is a man who trusts God and acts out of that trust. He is capable of real compassion and freedom to do other (and more) than the letter of the law calls for because of his relationship with God (I argue this is implicit in the parable). In some ways authentic faith means putting people before principles and that is what we hear in this parable. It is a classic law vs gospel text.

Finally, faith (and here I mean faith in God, faith in its most proper sense) will have other dimensions including the doctrinal because faith has a content. (If I trust and love God I am going to believe certain things about God.) It is a complex reality which rightly affects and involves every part of the human being (heart, mind, will, etc) at the same time in what Tillich calls "a centered act" of the whole person. It is for that reason we have seen problems in the history of the Church whenever one dimension of this reality is cut off from or given a mistaken priority over other dimensions --- something which is inappropriate both to faith itself and to the one called to have faith. Still, the bottom line, it seems to me, is that we are called to have faith IN God as well as believing all kinds of things ABOUT God. This faith (responsive trust) IN God is more foundational than beliefs ABOUT God --- even when the doctrinal part of things comes first in our experience. (That is, we are usually taught things ABOUT God before we are introduced to the idea of entrusting ourselves TO this God and  this is often done in order to induce us to or otherwise justify such trust --- but entrusting ourselves is more foundational for a life of authentic humanity or faith.

I hope this is helpful.

Vocations vs Vocational Paths

[[Hi Sister O'Neal, You wrote that vocational paths change but the call to authentic humanity does not. That's very different than what I was taught as a child. The Sisters told me that everyone was chosen for a particular state of life and that to miss one's call could have dire consequences. I thought this was church teaching.]]

No, it is not church teaching but it is one interpretation of the doctrine (and Scriptural datum) that each life is an obedient response (made up of innumerable obedient responses to and disobedient rejections of) the call or klesis of God. It was the interpretation probably made most well known by St Alphonsus Liguori. My own sense is that this idea is not only theologically difficult to sustain but that pastorally it can be and has often been downright destructive. Too many times people live their entire lives thinking they have "missed" their vocation because they married instead of becoming a religious or a priest (or vice versa!) etc. When this happens the ramifications are huge and wide-ranging, from quiet (or not-so quiet) despair to resentment to overcompensation to leaving the faith altogether and a thousand other things besides --- all of which affect many people besides the one whose vocation it is.

It also has contributed to faulty notions of discernment --- as though discernment is about figuring out a hidden puzzle entitled "What God wills for me!" It's sometimes approached as though there is only a single valid answer and if one misses the mark then one has missed any chance of happiness or holiness. A corollary would be that what God wills for x is sometimes better than what God wills for y --- as though God calls some to second-class vocations, etc. Moreover, one can begin to think that perhaps God has decided what one's vocation will be even if one does not care for the "choice" God has made for them! One might want (and be well-suited) to be College professor but come somehow to believe God has "chosen" the vocation of hermit for them instead --- and done so from the beginning! The result then can be frustration, resentment, and a life lived less well or in a less wholehearted and freely embraced partnership with God than otherwise.

So, I approach the question of vocations differently and I think, more adequately from the standpoint of pastoral theology (and of  Scripture and systematics as well). My sense is that God calls every person to a full and exhaustive humanity, to an authentic existence with, in, and through Godself and that this call is something which is mediated to us in innumerable ways at every point of our lives. The responses we make and actually become will allow for -- and even more or less require --- certain vocational pathways as most suitable for their fulfillment. Still, vocational paths can and do change, not only with the choices we make or fail to make, but with changes in our circumstances, growth, healing, and other factors.

What does not change is the continually proffered invitation (or summons!) to authentic humanity or abundant life which is given by God at every moment. God's invitation here is always creative, and always brings all of the elements of our lives together in fulfilling ways which will glorify God and serve others; it is precisely for this reason that paths to the fulfillment of one's fundamental vocation to authentic humanity can change. Meanwhile, in this view, discernment ceases to be a matter of trying to figure out God's hidden puzzle or of trying to find the single way of life chosen for us from eternity and instead becomes a matter of answering how best to become the persons we feel called to be with God and for others at any given moment --- though also with a view towards overarching paths toward this end.

To summarize then,  the Vocation (I think of it as vocation with a capital V) never changes and cannot be "missed" except to the degree it is avoided or rejected at each moment and over a lifetime. One is called to authentic humanity, to collaborate with God in the creation and perfection of something unique and awesome. This call is ALWAYS present as part of one's very being. The vocational pathways one chooses as major ways to respond to this "Vocation" are another matter and may change over a lifetime, particularly as major life circumstances change due to tragedy, illness, failure, sin, and so forth. Each is associated with grace for the one called and for those she will serve but they remain secondary to the primary call to authentic humanity.

I hope this is helpful.

Appreciating the Charism of Diocesan Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sister, I can see why Bishops might choose to profess an individual who is not really a hermit and ask questions like, "Besides, who will it hurt?" Isn't it more important to deal pastorally with the individual than to be concerned with an abstract idea of a vocation? If a person wants to serve God and do it as a "hermit", why shouldn't he be allowed to do this? I really don't see who it would hurt. After all hermits don't minister to people and are shut away from contact. Isn't this up to Bishops to decide?]]

Thanks for your questions. I am linking this post to another one on the charism of the diocesan hermit and the relation of the life to the exaggerated individualism and narcissism of our culture. I don't want to repeat everything I have already said there so please click on the title of this post to be taken to that one for further reading. 

The Charism of Solitary Eremitical Life

In attempting to clarify why I am not speaking about a mere abstraction but rather concrete circumstances where the eremitical vocation is particularly effective and redemptive perhaps I should restate what the charism or gift quality of the solitary diocesan hermit is to her parish, diocese, and the church and world at large. I tend to point to the canon 603 essential element, "the silence of solitude" as that unique gift. There are a couple of reasons for that. First, we in the first world live in a culture of exaggerated individualism and narcissism. While people living in community combat this problem by their accent on community life and its importance in authentic humanity, hermits participate in this "battle" in their own way, namely by living a life of "the silence of solitude." Eremitical solitude is not about living alone, but living alone WITH God and FOR others. It emphasizes and reveals that human beings are not made to live individualistic or narcissistic lives but instead are completed by God and called to give their lives FOR others. Eremitical solitude is a paradoxical reality and a gift to a world disintegrating under the influence of individualism, narcissism, and a notion of freedom which really means the license to do anything one wants without regard to (or for) others.

Secondly, we live in a world where people live longer, where consumerism and productivity are the major markers of the supposed meaningfulness and value of one's life. Often then people in such a culture have lost (or never had) a sense of the meaningfulness of their lives apart from work, family, etc. Some are bereaved, some are chronically ill, some are isolated elderly, some are prisoners, etc. Hermits do not buy into the consumerist, productivity-as-measure-of value perspectives. At the same time they are physically as isolated as any of the people mentioned above. What is different is that they say with their lives that meaningfulness is a function of one's relation to God and that they are infinitely precious because God holds them to be precious. Through the grace of God the hermit's life takes physical isolation and transforms it into solitude ---- a communal or dialogical reality measured in terms of relationship with God. The experience of eremitical solitude is the experience of meaning, completion, and authentic humanity which is capable of giving to others. Not least, hermits say to people that the redemption of isolation is possible and that even those who cannot compete as consumers or "producers" can live incredibly meaningful and generous lives which contribute to the well-being of society.

Thirdly we live in a world of unrelenting, ubiquitous noise. People not only don't know what silence is, they fear it, think it unnatural, and avoid it at all costs. Most people believe that silence means turning off the TV while listening to an iPod or something similar. Businesses deal with noise by overlaying it with another layer of noise; office buildings pipe in music meant to soothe and distract from silence but also to distract from the constant noise. The problem with this, however, is that unless we have silence in our lives we never learn to truly listen --- especially to the voice of God in our hearts. Articulate speech requires silence, music requires silence if it is not to be mere noise, and human beings require silence if they are to come to the full articulation of selfhood. Hermits attest to the fullness of silence and the silence of solitude.

As I have written before, [[As a hermit I am not silent (or solitary) for instance, because woundedness and pain have rendered me mute and cut off from others, but because silence and solitude are the accompaniment and context for profound speech and articulateness. Silence is part of the music of being loved completely by God; it is a piece of allowing the separate notes of one's life to sound fully, but also to be connected to one another so that noise is transformed into a composition worthy of being heard and powerful and true enough to be inspiring to others. It is an empowered silence and solitude, the silence of solitude, which finds its source in God's love and reflects relatedness to God and others at its very core. Something similar could be said of all of the elements which comprise the life described in Canon 603. The eremitical life, especially in its freedom, is one of relatedness and love in all of its dimensions.]]

Hermits know all of this because, by the grace of God, they live it daily. They live the physical solitude of eremitical life without significant  distraction. They live the silence of others' absence, for instance, and discover it leads to a world of amazing presence --- the presence of God in the ordinary and in their own hearts. They say with their own lives that each person is infinitely valuable, that life is hopeful, no matter the stage or conditions which mark or mar it. Thus, hermits commit to living their vowed lives of stricter separation from the world, assiduous prayer and penance, and the silence of solitude under the supervision of the diocesan Bishop and those he appoints as delegates precisely as a significant gift (charisma) God has given to his Church and world. Unless one sees the gift this life is, they will not appreciate it or live it with integrity.

Professing Individuals Who are not Hermits and Will not live Eremitical Life

However, if one DOES understand the gift this life is, they will not profess those who  are not called to live this precise gift. Everyone can learn to tolerate and many even to love silence, but very few are called on to live the gift of eremitical "silence of solitude." To profess those who are not called to this is to short-circuit their own true vocations --- the paths they are summoned to embrace to become fully and authentically human. Eremitical solitude is especially dangerous here since so few are called to authentic humanity in this way.  Those who may be newly bereaved, or yet significantly psychologically wounded, or chronically ill and still needing to deal effectively with this reality will find that eremitical solitude demands more than they are capable of giving at this particular time. Solitude is often needed in all of these situations but ordinarily it is solitude as transitional reality, solitude preparing the way for a reinvigorated or reinvented way of relating to others in more ordinary community. Again, to profess such persons prematurely and with inadequate time and discernment will not serve them well and could be damaging. In any case, I would dispute that there is anything truly pastoral about doing so.

And of course professing those without an authentic call to eremitical solitude means professing those whose lives will not be able to witness effectively to the gift which the silence of solitude really is to the isolated and marginalized of our world. There are such inauthentic vocations today: "hermits" who watch hours of TV in order to distract themselves from illness and isolation; "hermits" who really want to be living in community and ministering full time and whose "solitude" and life of "assiduous prayer and penance" is lived out mainly with a desert day per week; and so forth. To whom do these lives effectively speak? Certainly not to the persons mentioned in the section above this one. It is arrogance and presumption to think that such lives can be called "eremitical". Professing inauthentic vocations may well involve the person professed in a life of hypocrisy, failure, and even therefore, significant sin. More, far from serving God, it is a disservice --- to God, to the vocation itself, and to those who need the gift of the "silence of solitude" because they live full time lives of isolation --- to call such vocations "eremitical." In an individualistic and narcissistic world such professions only extend and intensify the reign of individualism and narcissism within the very vocation meant to stand clearly against them. In short it is a betrayal of God, of God's own gift to the Church and world and, at least potentially, it hurts many people! This is hardly a pastoral approach to the matter nor to the person seeking to be admitted to profession.

The Ministry of the Hermit

While it is true that diocesan hermits do only some limited ministry outside the hermitage (if they do any at all), their lives are a ministry. Eremitical ministry is not so much about what one does as who one is in and with and through God in the silence of solitude. It is not true to suggest that professing people without an authentic vocation will not matter much because hermits are shut away. To the degree they are separated from others physically their lives MUST still speak to others effectively and faithfully --- especially to those who are themselves isolated in some way. This is an integral part of a vocation: God calls, we answer with our profession and lives, and God through his Church commissions us to minister in his name and the name of the Church.

Are Bishops the ones who ultimately determine the matter of who is professed in their dioceses? Yes, but they do so within the constraints of the Canon (603), and the eremitical tradition --- which includes the life experience of contemporary hermits who truly help clarify the nature and establish the limits of the vocation in our contemporary world. Bishops are required to listen carefully to these, to discern carefully with regard to an individual seeking profession under canon 603, to have a clear sense of the gift or charisma this vocation is and to whom, and only then to make decisions which respect all of these elements. Bishops especially cannot disregard any of these elements and simply use the canon as a stopgap means to profess an individual who cannot be professed in any other way, who simply desires it for inadequate reasons (wearing a habit, being a Religious, using a title, validating a failed or merely isolated life, etc), or who wishes to use this profession as an entrance into consecrated life so s/he can then do something else with that life (like founding a community, gaining access to ministries she might not have had access to otherwise, etc). Allowing such professions would actually be a betrayal of the Bishop's own commission to seek out, protect, and nurture new forms of consecrated life --- at least if new means something more than novel, transitory, and disedifying.

I  hope this helps.