[[Dear Sister O'Neal, you wrote, [[(Note, this does not preclude experiments with horarium, etc, nor times when one is ill and needs certain praxis relaxed, etc. Neither does it refer to a hermitage where the hermit sometimes truly struggles with the elements central to her life. Emphatically not!) Hypocrisy [and pretense], however, [are] symptomatic of "the world", not of a hermitage.]] Do you struggle with elements of your life? Does this happen only once in a while or is it an all-the-time kind of thing? I have always thought a hermitage was a tranquil place of peace and communion with God. I also always thought that peace is part of a true vocation and that struggle meant that one does not have such a vocation. Can you comment on this for me?]]
Peace and Struggle are Related
Hi there! These are great questions and I think the heart of the answer has to do with the difference between the peace of Christ and more secular notions of peace which preclude all struggle (or all challenge!). My own experience of the peace of Christ, or the peace of God, is that it is, at the same time, a very demanding reality which empowers an individual to grow and mature with confidence and security because they are aware of who they are in God. More about that below.
So, do I struggle with elements of the eremitical life? Yes, assuredly. Partly that is because one element of the eremitical life IS struggle --- the struggle between truth and falsehood in our own being, but partly (and this, though related, is more to the point) it is because I am growing in this vocation. Eremitical life is an exercise in living and learning to live fully in Christ. It is an exercise in learning to receive the gifts of meaning, and love, and so many other things which are occasioned by abundant life in Christ. All of the routines, disciplines, and concrete praxis in the hermitage, are at the service of this learning. In some ways the hermitage supplies an essentially tranquil context for the deeper struggles of becoming a truly human being.
But sometimes it is the elements of the context itself that give me trouble --- and for the same reason --- because they occasion inner or deeper struggles between truth and untruth and with becoming more truly human; I think that is what you are asking about. So yes, poverty is sometimes difficult for me, and so is one dimension of stability, namely the pilgrimage side of that (we need to be able to move freely and be detached even while we commit ourselves to community, diocese, etc; stability is not a matter of being stuck in a rut or one of "entrenchment". Stability requires detachment and openness to change as well, paradoxical as that sounds. Sometimes that is difficult for me.) Obedience is sometimes a real trial for me. I do not generally struggle with solitude or silence, nor with prayer in a general way or penance, for instance, but I do struggle pretty regularly with some of these other things.
The Paradoxical Nature of the Hermitage
I suppose most people have the idea that a hermitage is a fairly laid-back place of rest, and in a way, they would be right. But as I have also written, hermitages are laboratories or studios where the composition God wishes one to become is worked out --- often with lots of scratched out passages, unscored dissonances, misplayed notes, and very real anguish! The desert Abbas and Ammas were very clear about the fact that the desert was the place where one struggled regularly with demons, and, again, those demons are mainly our own, carried deep within our own hearts. Thomas Merton wrote that the hermitage was the place where we get rid of any impersonation that might be present, and I would affirm that here one works on the destruction of any discrepancy between role and identity and learns to be truly transparent, both before God, to oneself, and --- to the degree it is prudent and pastoral, with others.
The hermitage is the place one lives in a conscious way and as constantly as one is able before the face or gaze of God. That is at once both a wonderfully affirming and recreating, as well as a terribly demanding task and experience. All of those things which prevent us from loving well, all of those things which have wounded and distorted us as human beings eventually must be worked through here. Union with God is the primary goal of the hermitage to which all else is ordered; it is the reason hermitages exist, and while this does not mean a stress-filled vocation, it does indicate an intense one. For me it is akin to playing a Beethoven symphony with an orchestra: we work and work intensely --- individually, together in sectionals, with and without the conductor, with the whole orchestra in ways which are physically, intellectually, and emotionally exhausting, and yet, the invigoration and sheer re-creative power of the work is awesome. When the music is allowed to come to life through this orchestra, and through (for instance) my own heart, mind, and muscles as a functioning part of this orchestra, the experience is indescribably exhilarating and joyful even as it exhausts. Life in the hermitage is like that.
As noted in the beginning of this post, the peace of Christ (as Jesus himself tells us) is not as the world gives. It is a wonderful and deeply invigorating security which allows us to be essentially confident of ourselves and our value --- even when all the usual "worldly" props (success, productivity, achievement, health, etc) are kicked out from under us. We exist in Christ, and because we do, we know who we truly are and how very deeply loved and precious --- even when we are sinning, (". . .he died for us while we were yet. . . ungodly. . .Rom 5:6-8). THAT is the peace of Christ. But that also means it is a challenging reality which constantly summons us to more --- to greater integrity, greater wholeness, greater compassion and sensitivity, greater capacities for love and friendship and humanity. And of course, again, it does this in the face of those demons which are so deeply entrenched in our own hearts!
Peace and the True Vocation
Regarding your question about the nature and signs of a genuine vocation, then, it should be clear that SOME struggles are inherent in a true vocation. If a vocation or vocational path (marriage, religious life, eremitical life, etc) provides the context in which one discovers this peace of Christ and can grow to wholeness and sanctity in light of it, then I think that is a sign one has discovered one's true vocation. If, on the other hand, a person is generally miserable, and finds she is becoming less and less human in the process, less able physically or emotionally, for instance, to be honest with herself, or to live generously and joyfully the truth of who she is, then I don't think this person has found her true vocation --- no matter how intensely she desires it. The same is true when every element of a life is a torment, when they isolate and fragment the person, when they function like saltwater would for a thirsty person.
None of the elements of eremitical life are comfortable all the time (and as I have argued, neither should they be), but on the whole, these elements are life-giving pieces of a context in which one feels deeply at home, profoundly alive and at rest --- a sense one internalizes and carries with one even when one is outside the hermitage, for instance. As an example, it is a vastly different thing to struggle with poverty or stability, or eremitical silence or solitude because these are sources of life and verification (making true) for us, and to feel --- or evidence to ourselves or others!--- that these things stifle or even harm one's authentic humanity. Similarly, it is a vastly different thing to find that the disciplines of a particular vocation strip one of one's false humanity, than to find they actually contribute to the falsification or even destruction of one's true self because one is called to another vocational path. I suspect a lot of the latter dynamic can be found veiled in the language of unhealthy spirituality (often the language of some sort of pseudo-mystical misery), but how ever it is clothed, the bottom line is one often becomes less and less human in such mistaken vocations.
Anyway, I hope this is helpful. As I always say, if it raises other questions or has been unclear, please do get back to me.
N.B., the illustration above is a picture of a painting of St Romuald receiving the gift of tears --- the seminal event in Romuald's spiritual life, and in the life of the Camaldolese. It was done by Brother Emmaus, OSB Cam while at New Camaldoli. (Brother is now at Glenstal Abbey discerning his vocation there.) I chose it because of the joy which permeates Romuald, despite and even because of his tears. In any case, I think it symbolizes well what I have been writing about in this post.
Addendum: I was just informed that Brother Emmaus O'Herlihy has completed his novitiate at Glenstal Abbey and has made simple vows for the next three years. Brother was professed on September 25, 2011.
For
those wishing to read about the Camaldolese there is a really fine
collection of essays on Camaldolese Benedictine Spirituality which was
noted above. It is written by OSB Camaldolese monks, nuns and oblates. It
is entitled aptly enough, The Privilege of Love and includes
topics such as, "Koinonia: The Privilege of Love", "Golden Solitude,"
"Psychological Investigations and Implications for Living Alone
Together," "An Image of the Praying Church: Camaldolese Liturgical
Spirituality," "A Wild Bird with God in the Center: The Hermit in
Community," and a number of others. It also includes a fine bibliography
"for the study of Camaldolese history and spirituality."
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