On Eremitical Hiddenness: Witnessing to the Journey to Deeper Union with God

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I wondered what it is that hermits witness to, especially since they live in solitude. Do hermits witness with the hiddenness of their lives? I think you have said something like that and it sounds nonsensical to me. At least I don't get it! I mean how can someone witness to something with the hiddenness of their life? (I guess if they are witnessing to hiddenness, then they do that with hiddenness, but that seems really silly to me.) But really, what is it hermits are most concerned with witnessing to? Do you do this in your solitude?]]

Thanks for your questions. Sometimes the paradoxes involved in Christianity seem silly or absurd, at least initially. I definitely understand that. Imagine trying to explain to someone without a sense of paradox how it is that "power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9) without that leading to some kind of oppressive and dehumanizing dynamic between the weak and the powerful in the equation or relationship! Or, imagine trying to tell some folks that poverty is really a form of wealth essential to human wholeness. Understanding the truth and wisdom of such assertions requires a sense of paradox, an ability to think in terms of paradox, and the ability to live at peace with and even in it. This is so because human existence is paradoxical, and paradoxes like these are some of the most important truths we are asked to grasp and, more importantly, allow ourselves to be grasped by. (At the top of the "paradox food chain," we Christians live from the conviction that a crucified Messiah is not only NOT the height of failure, literal godlessness, and offensiveness to Divine holiness, but is instead the epitome of human integrity, commitment to meaningful life, and the glorification of a loving, merciful God.) 

At the heart of our lives,  our Christian faith and vocations, is the absolute Mystery that (or who) we cannot comprehend in the way we might other realities we know. This is Mystery that we must allow ourselves to be known by instead (cf Galatians 4:8-11). Similarly, then, the paradox of witnessing to something precisely in the hiddenness of our lives represents a profound truth that hermits allow to take hold of them more deeply, and to define their lives and vocations more and more fully and completely. So, what is it hermits witness to, and why does this happen in hiddenness? To sharpen your questions somewhat, I might also ask why it is that the real heart of an eremitical journey can never be seen by others, even when it is something a hermit witnesses to with her life? Why is it that authentic hermits affirm that no one outside this vocation can really understand it? Why doesn't the Church require anonymity from her c 603 hermits, and why does she mark them and their vocations out in the various ways she does as something to be esteemed? Or, in other words, what is the Mystery the Church so regards that stands at the heart of the eremitical vocation that requires the paradoxical description, "revealed in hiddenness"?

In the past year or so, I have written more directly about the journey or pilgrimage hermits make to union with God, or, (probably a better way of describing this journey) toward deeper union with God. I say this is the better way of describing this because in our deepest self, we are already united with God, and our pilgrimage is one we make toward not only that deepest self, but the God who is its ground and source. To speak of human beings as sinful is to affirm we are estranged from that deepest self as well as from God (and from the rest of God's creation). The hermit commits to spending her life in pilgrimage to recover and live this profound truth that stands at the heart of her being. As she does this, she gradually brings all that she has experienced and all that she is to God so that her whole self may be redeemed by God's love. This is the inner journey no one sees, the journey no one can see. It is the pilgrimage that is always only partly clear to the hermit herself, the obscure but compelling journey she undertakes in faith and response to the often profoundly mysterious call of God into Mystery itself. And, of course, it is the heart of the eremitical journey, the only thing that could possibly make sense of its solitude and other forms of asceticism, its turn from much of God's good creation and its essential renunciation (or at least the relativization) of active ministry in visible service to others and to the Church.

While it is true that the hermit witnesses to hiddenness, she only does so secondarily. What comes first is the journey itself. It is a necessarily hidden journey into the depths of human yearning and fulfillment. The same can be said for a hermit's service of God, others, the Church, and this vocation. The hermit who lives her vocation well certainly serves all of these. Her life is, avowedly, a life of service. However, it is only this insofar as it puts the hidden journey to deeper union with God first. Service to others is not unimportant in the eremitical vocation; at the same time, it is an obscure service, often neither seen nor understood by others, because its heart is the mysterious inner journey no one can see or comprehend except analogously in light of their own inner pilgrimage to redemption and deeper union with God. 

When the Church discerns the presence of eremitical vocations in myself or others, what it is looking for are signs that the person is seeking God and is capable of committing their life to this specific quest as primary and definitive. That is, it and the yearning that underlies it must come before everything else and define every dimension of the hermit's life. Additionally, the church looks to see if the person is able and committed to making this pilgrimage in and to "the silence of solitude" for the sake of the Gospel and in the name of the Church. Because the journey to deeper union with God involves the healing and redemption of the whole person, the overcoming of the estrangement of sin and growth in genuine holiness, there will be signs that such persons have turned, and continue to turn more profoundly and completely, from that which is resistant or opposed to Christ (i.e., what is often unhelpfully called "the world") and have allowed themselves to be embraced by the God of life, love, selflessness, and grace. Such a vocation is a microcosm of the foundational vocation of the Church itself, and it summarizes the nature of human existence as well. (Cf Ponam In Deserto Viam, paragraph 15 and the Catechism of the Catholic Church, pars 920-21) Again, it is a hidden reality --- though it bears witness to itself in the fruit associated with it. 

When Thomas Merton spoke of this foundational calling, he referred to the primary responsibility of the hermit:  [[. . . to live happily without affectation in his solitude.]] Merton continued, [[(the Hermit) owes this not only to himself but to his community that has gone so far as to give him a chance to live it out. . . . this is the chief obligation of the . . .hermit because, as I said above, it can restore to others their faith in certain latent possibilities of nature and of grace.]] (Contemplation in a World of Action, p. 242) And here, in the reference to "certain latent possibilities of nature and grace", we also see what the hermit witnesses to, namely, the potential of each and every human life to reveal the essential unity that exists between God and the human person, that is, the essential relationship that makes a human being truly human. Hermits seek deeper union with God not only because Emmanuel (God With Us) is who God is and wills to be, but because Emmanuel also defines the nature of truly human existence. 

Merton described the hermit's pilgrimage as one of a profound seeking and exploration of Mystery that can only be done in hiddenness. Because this solitude is universal (all persons exist as made for God and estranged from God at the same time), some persons are called to witness to the pilgrimage every person is meant to make so that hope may triumph over despair in every life. As I have noted before, Merton writes, [[My brother, perhaps in my solitude I have become, as it were, an explorer for you, a searcher in realms which you are not able to visit -- except perhaps in the company of your psychologist. I have been summoned to explore a desert area of man's heart in which explanations no longer suffice, and in which one learns that only experience counts. An arid, rocky, dark land of the soul, sometimes illuminated by strange fires which men fear and peopled by spectres which men studiously avoid except in their nightmares. And in this area I have learned that one cannot truly know hope unless he has found out how like despair hope is.]] (The Monastic Journey, pages 169-173, section published posthumously)

And here is a central clue as to why the Church esteems eremitical vocations today. In their rarity, these vocations represent calls to authentic humanity that are lived out for the sake of others and the Gospel of Jesus Christ. They witness to the universal call to union with God, and they do so with a directness and salience other vocations lack. (In saying this, I do not mean to denigrate the rich witness of other vocations that also depend upon degrees of union with God for their fruitfulness. However, it seems to me that eremitical life cannot be justified in any other way, except in terms of the universal yearning for and call to union with God, not in terms of active ministry, education, social service, pastoral ministry, direct service to the poor, etc.) Eremitical life is ALL about the mysterious hidden journey every human person is called to make to deeper union with God, and to be who we are in light of that journey with, to, and into ultimate Mystery. Rich or poor, educated or uneducated, powerful or powerless, celebrated or shrouded in obscurity, every person has been uniquely gifted with this same precious identity and calling.

In (perhaps) the most direct or dedicated way possible, where contemplative lives prioritize being over doing, eremitical life witnesses to the solitary call to be truly human in and with God by allowing God to be God With Us as completely as God wills. If one wants to understand what hermits DO with their lives, what it is that makes their lives so valuable to the Church and world, perhaps the best answer is that they are persons who are singularly focused on learning to BE themselves and to let God be God. In hermits, we find an unambiguous exemplar of ordinary human life given over to union with God and leading in its own way to the healing and fulfillment of reality that can only occur in communion with the Divine. Hermits witness to this profound and foundational giftedness and task, even when so many of their discrete gifts remain (and must remain) relatively unused, undeveloped, or relinquished entirely. Moreover, it is in the complete ordinariness and inner nature of this incarnational journey that the profoundly purposeful hiddenness of eremitical life is revealed (made known and made real in space and time). It is an incredible and divinely authored paradox that reminds us of all the other paradoxes that are so central to Christianity!! In and with Christ, in the power of the Spirit, this is who the hermit is called to be.

I hope this response is helpful. As always, if it raises more questions or fails to respond adequately to others, please get back to me, and I will revisit these.

Why is the Journey of and into Existential Solitude Sometimes Frightening?

[[Dear Sister, your [response to the questions on Jesus' abandonment by God] was dense but wonderful. I really had not thought of things in this light at all, and I am still chewing on it. Thanks for that. I wondered if you could say more about this part of my original question: [[Hi Sister, is the inner journey you speak about under the name "existential solitude" frightening? Maybe that's a weird question, but you have said that everyone hesitates to undertake this journey even though it is necessary in order to be truly human. Why is this form of solitude so scary, or why do people want to avoid it? ]] I like being by myself and don't find solitude scary, so I wondered why existential solitude is so frightening to people. I got a sense that your own journey and Merton's were dark and terrifying at times, but why is that? Thanks for letting me ask again!]]

No problem with asking your questions again. I really appreciate it. When I start writing a reply, it's not the same as writing an academic article, for instance. I typically follow my thoughts until I have developed an answer to at least some part of the question, and that means I don't always get to all parts of it; usually, that leaves some important bits out of the picture. Sorry for that!! I am grateful you returned to keep me honest! So why is the journey I have spoken of frightening? Why do people avoid it? I will also add the question about why I undertook it and, in fact, committed my life to it in a search for God and to allowing him to be the One He willed to be for me and our world. After all, given the seriousness and danger of the journey, there must have been some even stronger reasons to undertake it.

All human beings grow up recording everything that happens to them.  We "remember" things because of our brain's capacity to store these in long-term storage to be accessed as needed, but we also remember things in our bodies and nervous systems more generally. Even when our memories are not conscious, they are stored somewhere within us and can influence who we are, how we behave, how we respond or react to current events, etc. Beneath all of this is our deepest self, the self God calls us to be in, through, and sometimes despite all the rest of it. Beneath all of this is also God, who dwells in our depths and summons us to life, to the decisions we will make in affirming life, to our vocation, etc. 

Unfortunately, some of these stored memories are associated with a personal woundedness that can block our access to God and our truest self. They can lead us to build up defenses to the pain associated with these memories, and prevent the kind of openness needed for union with God and our deepest self. At the same time, these defenses can prevent us from functioning at our fullest capacity in the present. Perhaps trusting others is difficult for us, or we are plagued by a tendency to withdraw. Perhaps we develop a bad self-image, an overweening self-critical voice, some degree of perfectionism, and so forth. Sometimes they will cause disproportionate recurrent reactions --- reactions that are either completely inappropriate or that are too little or too much to be a response to the present situation alone, because they are linked to what I describe as pools of suffering or woundedness carried deep within us. (Think of someone who "goes off" on folks at the smallest provocation, or someone who refuses to go out of their house for fear of everything, and think of all the variations and degrees of these things you have met in your own life.) We all have these "pools" of pain, just as we all have sclerosed or "scarred" and hardened patches within our own hearts.

In learning to listen to God who is deep within, and to realize the potential of our truest, deepest selves, the inner journey we are asked to take will mean "remembering" (and often reliving in some way!), and expressing the memories our body and mind have stored within us. Depending on one's life experience, such a journey will mean encountering darknesses (our own and others') and suffering we may only partly remember consciously. Similarly, it will mean dealing with and working through the deeper injuries we might never have suspected having sustained. The image I have used to describe this is one of a peach that is bumped on its way to or from the store. Imagine that this bump leaves a slight mark on the surface of the peach. If you were to peel the skin off at that place, you might be surprised to discover a larger area of injury, and if you slice off a layer of peach at that point, you may find an even larger area of woundedness. Were you to continue slicing off layers of the fruit, what you could find is a much deeper and more extensive area of bruising or woundedness than the surface disfigurement gave any real hint of. Our own woundedness can be like that, and the journey to the depths of ourselves will only gradually and surprisingly uncover this. 

The process of facing ourselves and our own history (because even without difficult memories, we each have a shadow side) can thus be painful and frightening. Merton's description here is a good one that his personal history and vocation made possible and necessary. You can imagine what it might be for someone with a different history than Merton's, a history of varying grief and trauma, for instance. But this process is also the way to healing because it means gradually reclaiming our whole selves, healing what can be healed, and accepting the limitations that cannot be changed, even as we also embrace with a new energy the potentialities that have lain undeveloped and waiting within us. (These are as much a source of our hunger for fullness of life as our woundedness is.) It requires working with someone who can support, encourage, and guide one with real understanding and expertise. It requires an experience of such a person's love (agape) and consistency, as they accompany and truly listen to us. And of course, it requires faith and some degree of hope on both persons' parts, because God is summoning one to undertake this journey and the healing it leads to; here it is especially true that what only one can do, one cannot do alone.

Not everyone can, or will, undertake such a journey, especially in the focused, committed way a monk or hermit is called to do. Most people will undertake the journey of existential solitude only to the degree required to function well in everyday life. After all, it takes time and real energy to undertake such a healing journey, so not everyone is free or able physically or psychologically to do this. Sometimes, though, even physical solitude is something folks will embrace only occasionally for retreat, or when life circumstances like illness or bereavement require it. Most people surround themselves with people, activities, noise, and distractions of all kinds to prevent themselves from facing themselves and what is buried deep (or sometimes not so deeply) within. 

But for some, the hunger for fullness of being and meaning, the yearning to be whole or holy and to allow God to be Emmanuel as fully and exhaustively as he wills, both for one's own sake and for the sake of others, will demand a different kind of commitment, a deeper and more exhaustive engagement with and in existential solitude. Some of these persons are called to be hermits.  Consecrated eremitical life is an ecclesial vocation undertaken for the sake of God's call to fullness of life. That call belongs to each of us and to the Church itself. The hermit embraces the call and journey she does to witness to the God who is the ground and source of abundant life, meaningful life, eternal life, LIFE in relationship!! She explores the depths of herself and discovers that God is truly present, reaching out with love and mercy at every moment and mood of her journey -- even in the shadow of death and despair or near-despair. This is the fundamental way the hermit comes to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ for the sake of God, God's Church, and God's entire creation.

As always, I hope this is helpful, and if it is unclear or raises more questions, feel free to get back to me! I am serious about that. When you do, it is helpful to me and likely to others reading here as well!

Using Internet Wisely: Some Distinctions Between Hiddenness and Privacy

[[Sister Laurel, I have been watching videos by [an online Christian hermit] and reading your blog for some time. You have such different approaches to eremitical life. I have been interested in the distinctions. One of these is about the hiddenness of the hermit life. Recently, [this hermit] put up several posts while running errands in B____, and today she put up one showing herself in a medical waiting room dressed in scrubs as she waited for an MRI. What has me feeling confused and often uncomfortable is how she complains that [despite your supposed hiddenness], you use the title Sister and wear a habit, while she puts up videos of herself shopping, going to the doctor, lying in bed in pain, and so forth, while identifying herself as a hermit to those watching such videos. The videos are becoming more frequent, and it seems like everything, even family fights and details of her physical and emotional condition, is fair game. It's as though everything she does has to be video'd for her viewers while boundaries are forgotten. Yet she goes after you for using her name and not being anonymous yourself. How can any of this be considered consistent with eremitical hiddenness?]]

Thanks for your questions. Let me talk about eremitical hiddenness and also the value of privacy. I have no intention of speaking about this specific hermit's praxis because she no longer presents herself as a Catholic Hermit, something I very much appreciate.  Your comments still raise the more general question of eremitical hiddenness and possible inconsistency, and would do so no matter the hermit involved if they have an online presence. My own blog does that, for instance. What you say about the increasing frequency of videos, along with their content, could also raise the question of an incipient or more developed failure to respect appropriate boundaries. What is true, of course, is that every hermit must answer such questions when they decide to post anything online, and they must continue to raise these questions over time. It seems to me that this is particularly true if they are also publicly critical of another hermit's supposed "lack of hiddenness". Bearing that in mind, let me move on to these more general topics.

Anyone posting online will find that the internet encourages a dissolution of our sense of privacy and of appropriate boundaries. This can be gradual or not. The hermits I know mostly have internet, and we use it to communicate in a variety of ways, to come together in a virtual laura over huge geographical and temporal distances, to post about this vocation, to sell what we make, make doctor's appointments, and things like that. My sense is we each take care with our use of such media. Additionally, some of us have been called upon to do interviews for journalists, authors, radio broadcasters (or podcasters), and the like, but in doing these, there always remains a significant caution that honesty and transparency do not transgress appropriate boundaries. 

Journalists give us the draft of what they want to publish, and we go over these to be sure we are comfortable with everything in the interview, article, book chapter, or whatever. There is no sense ever that this media piece is going to transgress upon our essential hiddenness or the personal boundaries most people have no right or need to see beyond. We don't do the interview, or give permission for its publication, etc., if we cannot be certain of these limits. (Granted, this doesn't prevent all errors, but it does tend to work for boundary issues.) But on the internet, people post or write and put up pictures and videos of themselves that reveal far more of themselves than they realize. It takes real care to use media appropriately while ensuring the hiddenness or privacy necessary to the hiddenness of an eremitic life.

Some things never show up in the interviews or articles I do. While I do indeed mention the chronic illness and disability that are part of my own call to eremitical life, the details of those realities,  especially on a day-to-day basis, are private. Not only are they generally unhelpful to folks reading this blog, but they cross boundaries, both my own and those of my readers, which are better maintained intact. In some ways, "putting it all out there" is uncharitable and can lack respect, both for myself and for the reader. Similarly, some will know I have a sister, a niece, and may even know their first names, but that is ordinarily the limit of things. I once asked for prayer for my sister due to some surgery she was having. I have posted on the occasion of the anniversary of my brother's death. But the ins and outs, ups and downs of relationships (which are pretty much the same as anyone else's) is simply not helpful to anyone reading this blog, and not my right to post about. But let me be especially clear, this kind of thing is not about the hiddenness of my life. It is about the right that my family and I both have to privacy despite the public nature of my vocation.

Hiddenness has to do with the intimacies of my (or any hermit's) life with God, the existential solitude that my life possesses and seeks as an essential dimension of an authentically human life. And, paradoxically, I am called to witness to this hiddenness. Imagine that! In my life, every day of my life, I live a communion or union with God that no one else can enter, see, touch, or know. They can know all of this themselves in regard to their own relationship with God, yes, but they cannot enter, see, touch, or know my own solitude with God. And yet, at the same time, I am called to witness to this inviolable, ineffable, and sacred reality with my life. Sometimes, because I write about the nature of c 603 eremitic life, I am also called to write what I can about this relationship, and yet, a good deal of it (when I can find the words for it) will remain entirely private except to spiritual directors, my bishop and/or confessor, and those very rare (and very good) friends with whom I share this vocation.

Here is where titles and habits can be helpful. They are an outer sign of this inner reality. They immediately signal something existing that otherwise people will not have a way into. Of course, my own qualities and characteristics as a person also reveal the presence and nature of my relationship with God (and are more important in doing so than any habit!), but the all-consuming focus of my life and the total nature of my commitment can be indicated by title and habit. These are signals to an intimacy with God every person is invited to experience and explore for themselves, and which I have said yes to in public vows and consecration. They are also things I have adopted with the permission of the Church as part of an ecclesial vocation. I don't usually know why others wear habits, or, often the more neuralgic question, why many do not, though I understand and respect the decisions made by those I do know. In terms of my own religious life, however, the habit serves as a signal to something hidden and holy --- a journey which differs in some ways from that of most people and is undertaken on their behalf. At the same time, though it is helpful to me, it is less about me than it is about signaling the potential within each one of us, especially within a faith community, to make the kind of journey I have been writing about lately, and that I have mentioned indirectly through the years in terms of "inner work". Today, because they are less common, habits invite questions, and questions invite witness and encouragement of others regarding the journey they, too, are called to make in their own way.

In terms of your questions, what I find fascinating is how apparently easy it is for someone to mistake anonymity for hiddenness or even for privacy. What adds to that fascination is my awareness of how, on the other hand, it is possible to write publicly and talk about the inner journey hermits are called to make, to wear a habit, use the title Sister (or Brother), and maintain the hiddenness of the vocation and the privacy necessary for self-respect and the respect of others. There are paradoxes here that I think are important, and hermits certainly need to be aware of these. Sometimes writing or filming something in the name of sharing, openness, or transparency erodes essential boundaries and potentially involves the reader or viewer in a form of voyeurism. Here is one of the places where the internet's tendency to count visitors coming to the site can be deceptive or misleading. It doesn't always indicate one's writing, for instance, is edifying or even interesting. Hermits need to ask themselves if they are getting the readership (or viewership) they are (especially when that readership spikes upward or drops off precipitously), not because what they write is truly of interest or edifying to others, but because it is fascinating like a train wreck, car crash, or streaker in a park full of people is fascinating.

The potential for misuse of media and the subtle,  even surreptitious, and always surprising ways the use of media can lead to the gradual or even more immediate transgression or erosion of appropriate boundaries for the writer or videographer and reader or viewer alike is important. This is another place where external solitude and silence help protect existential solitude, and where respect for oneself flows over into respect for others as well. That said, let me be clear that I believe videos, vlogs, and blogs can be used appropriately, and that certainly includes those done by hermits. I have posted examples of that several times, including hermits, monks, and cloistered nuns.  Even so, the use of media must be undertaken with caution and careful discernment. 

I would like to leave readers with the observation that privacy and hiddenness, like external and existential solitude, while related, are not the same things. Hermits' hiddenness has to do with their existential solitude and their journey to God and Self. Privacy helps ensure that the journey to the depths of oneself in existential solitude can be, and is, undertaken with focus and integrity. What one reveals publicly is a matter of judgment and respect for oneself, one's vocation, and one's readers or viewers. When we conflate such terms, we tend to make sure that the vocation and the inner journey to which it witnesses are misunderstood. That does not serve God, the Church, or anyone else well, and it contributes to the stereotypes and misapprehensions that plague the word "hermit".

On the Relation Between Physical and Existential Solitude

[[Dear Sister, I think I understand the place of physical solitude in assisting someone to encounter and journey to the depths of existential solitude. You seem to take a more flexible view on the requirement for absolute physical solitude than some hermits do. If physical solitude is so helpful in this, then why would you allow a hermit to ease it? Wouldn't that be an obstacle to going to the depths you have been talking about?]]

Great question and timely because I was thinking about doing just such a post! Thank you!! The interesting thing about existential solitude is that while physical solitude is critically important in helping us get in touch with this, being with other people in some instances can be similarly helpful. You remember I used the image of being more alone in a crowd than we are when we are by ourselves? This is an instance of being with others as a situation that also puts us in touch with our existential solitude. Remember that existential solitude is defined as that solitude that is intrinsic to being a human being. We are born alone, live alone, and die alone in this existential sense. There is always going to be a gap between ourselves and any other person. No one really knows our hearts or minds completely. We are always, at least partly, unknown and unknowable to others, as they are to us. That creates a sense of existential loneliness or solitude that only God overcomes.

In conversations with other hermits, we have spoken of this sense. It turns up for us most poignantly, I think, because each of us have very few people with whom we can discuss our lives with the expectation that they will understand what we are and why we do what we do. I have said before that usually folks think of hermits in some stereotypical way, probably because it is easier than having some huge cipher or question mark hovering over the word "hermit". Others narrow down the way they understand this vocation to "prayer warrior" --- a phrase I detest, not because I don't pray or because I don't, in fact, do significant battle with the demons of this world and my own heart, but because it is reductionistic, too belligerent, and contrary to the essence of this call. People in my parish are comfortable thinking of me as a religious, even a contemplative --- though here we are beginning to move close to being more than a bridge too far for them! Hermit is definitely beyond the usual bounds of understanding.

On the other hand, we hermits have each other, and it is incredibly important that we do. Existential solitude can be very painful; to have others who are on the same journey, who know what you are feeling and how important it is, is incredibly critical to living this vocation well. What I find is that my time with those who haven't a clue about what I live or why often sharpens my sense of existential solitude, while my time with my Sisters in c 603, or my Director, my spiritual director, and a handful of others, encourage and accompany me in my journey even though it is one I must still make alone with God. I believe that for established hermits (less so for beginners), the time hermits spend with others will not detract from the journey into their inmost depths that they are called to. These times can actually sharpen, intensify, or otherwise enhance the journey, though in different ways, depending on the relationship.

Physical solitude is absolutely critical, not only for getting in touch with one's existential solitude, but for learning to become aware of the deep hunger and thirst we have for wholeness, and thus, too, for God. However, sometimes physical solitude, when combined with the anguish or even the more tolerable pain of existential solitude, needs to be eased if we are to remain fully committed to the journey to the depths of ourselves, where we meet God and our truest self at the same time. The eremitical vocation requires physical solitude, but it is not primarily about physical solitude, nor does it exist for the sake of physical solitude. Similarly, the hiddenness of eremitical life is not about external hiddenness, anonymity, etc., though it may benefit from these. Instead, it is about the hidden journey to the very heart of our being. This journey continues in one way or another, whether I am with others or not, and it is hidden from everyone, even those whose place in my life makes them a privileged sharer in this journey. Granted, I try to share what the journey involves, to whatever extent is appropriate, but it remains essentially hidden, just as it remains essentially solitary.

Why I do Christology "From Below"

[[Dear Sister, I have read some of this blog and I wonder when you write about the hiddenness of eremitical life if you don't disparage Jesus by referring so strongly to his humanity. Jesus was God, a Divine person, so to speak of his "ordinariness" or even his faith in God demeans him. How would you respond to that objection?]]

Great question. Thanks. I suppose my response goes back to one of the first theology classes I ever had. This was an undergraduate Introduction to New Testament and made an impression I have never left behind. The professor asked us who Jesus was or is and he let us answer in all of the ways we thought not just described, and identified Jesus,  but also how we most honored him. I said something about Jesus being the Son of God and John (Dwyer) smiled, nodded, and said, "Okay, bearing that in mind, tell me who God is!"( After all, if the best, truest, or even the highest thing we can say about Jesus is that he is the Son of God, we really should be able to say who God is apart from Jesus.)  But of course, Jesus is the One who reveals God exhaustively to us; he shows us who God is in ways that transcend any of the partial revelations we have in the Hebrew Scriptures or in other religions. Moreover, he makes the Creating, Saving God present in space and time in ways not achieved except fragmentarily in the Law, Prophets, Judges, and others. (Remember to reveal in this usage means not only making visible and making known, but also to make real in space and time.)

So, the question, I think, is really how does Jesus do that, and then, what does this mean about his humanity? First, I believe Jesus reveals both who God is and what it means to be truly human. He does both in exhaustive and definitive ways and paradoxically, he does both at the very same time. I believe that this is a major part what the Christological Councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon, for instance, were trying to say in the categories of that day and age. Secondly, I recognize that Christology can be done either "from above" or from below"; one (as in the Gospel of John) starts with Jesus' divinity, the other (as in the Gospel of Mark or the Letters of Paul) with Jesus' humanity. Each approach has its own strengths and weaknesses, and each must address these if people are truly to understand who Jesus and the One he called Abba are for us. One of the weaknesses, I believe, in all Christology from above is that in starting with Jesus as God, it fails to truly "get to" much less adequately esteem Jesus' humanity; nor does it really see Jesus' humanity as a true model for our own.  I believe it also may prevent us from treating our earth with the reverence and responsible stewardship we are called to, but I will wait to make that argument.

Doing Christology (and all theology in light of this) "from below" not only shows us the depth of God's kenotic (self-emptying) love, it also reveals how truly we who are called to authentic human life fall short of or "miss the mark" of that very goal. When we do theology beginning with Jesus' humanity it is very much easier to see that to be truly human means to live in an indescribably intimate relationship with God (we cannot be truly human alone!!) and it means to become entirely transparent to the Love-in-Act of the God who wills to be Emmanuel, God-With-Us. What I have said about eremitical hiddenness and extraordinary ordinariness (cf Hiddenness and Extraordinary Ordinariness, and Essential Hiddenness) is meant to indicate that whenever our reality is allowed to become all that it is created to be, meaning whenever God is allowed to be God-With-Us in and through us, nothing at all is "ordinary", or, maybe better, the extraordinary everyday reality we so easily denigrate, demean, and diminish, is really and truly extraordinary, even sacramental. We, like Jesus, are called to make God really and truly present in this world. Jesus reveals this is the very nature of what it means to be human just as he reveals God as Emmanuel!

I realize this is not a complete answer to the implications of your questions, and certainly it is no Christological treatise, but to be honest, I just don't have the energy or the motivation to even try to write such a thing, and certainly not on this blog! I do not deny the aim of what the Christological Councils wanted to affirm about Christ and his relationship to the One he called Abba, Father; certainly I have studied these Councils (and the language they used!) but even so, I neither speak, live, nor understand reality in terms of the language (words and categories of thought and understanding) that were used in those Councils. Further, I believe that that language itself, despite the brilliance of those wielding it, fell far short ("missed the mark") and could only have fallen far short of capturing or expressing the paradoxes of the Christ Event fully and definitively revealed on the Cross! 

Now, I completely agree that all human language falls short of the heart of our faith, that Mystery that is ineffable, but in some important ways, the Greek categories of the Christological Councils made faith harder rather than easier and introduced obstacles into the way we see ourselves and the world God entrusted to us. (cf for instance, "Pebble, Peach, Pooch, Person," pp 159-168 as a critique of "the so-called "hierarchy of being" or cf.,"Nature, a Neighbor" (pp 153-158) in Elizabeth Johnson's Come Have Breakfast. Other essays in this book are also pertinent.) Semitic thought, and certainly Christianity itself, is profoundly paradoxical whereas Greek thought has a similarly profound difficulty in dealing with paradox. This means that being people of faith in God and his revelation in Jesus the Christ, sometimes calls for us to let go of certain categories of thought, and often to learn new ones** if we really want to hear and understand what the Christ Event and the NT reveals to us.

** it is not easy for those of us raised in 20-21st C Western ways of thinking to deal with paradox. To understand that Jesus' humanity best reveals the nature of transcendent Divinity, or that our God is one whose power is most perfectly revealed in weakness (2 Cor 12:9), or even that in emptying himself of his prerogatives as God, the One Jesus called Abba is most fully and perfectly Godself, all demand the ability to perceive and reflect on the paradoxical nature of ultimate reality. If you have ever tried to teach people to think in terms of paradox, you'll know how difficult this is. But consider the Beatitudes, for example, and try to make sense of them via non-paradoxical categories of thought. In this way they will tend to simply seem absurd, the foolishness of those "who cannot think rationally".

On the Distinction Between Using Our Gifts and Being the Gift (Reprise from July 2015)

[[Hi Sister. I've been reading what you wrote on chronic illness as vocation. I wondered why God would give a person gifts they could never really use.  And if their gifts can't be used then how do they serve or glorify God? I mean I do believe people who can't use God-given gifts still serve God but we are supposed to use our gifts and what if we can't? Since you are a hermit do you ever feel that you cannot use your gifts? Does it matter? Does canonical standing make better use of your gifts than non-canonical standing? I hope this is not gibberish?]]

These are great questions and no, not gibberish at all. The pain of being given gifts which we may not be able to use because of chronic illness or other life circumstances is, in my experience, one of the most difficult and bewildering things we can know. The question "WHY?!!" is one of those we are driven to ask by such situations. We ask it of God, of the universe, of the silence, of friends and family, of books and teachers and pastors and ministers; we ask it of ourselves too though we know we don't have the answer. In one way and another we ask it in many different ways of whomever will listen --- and sometimes we force people to listen to the screams of anguish our lives become as we embed this question in all we are and do. Whether we act out, withdraw, retreat into delusions, turn seriously to religion or philosophy, resort to crime, become workaholics for whom money is the measure of meaning, create great works of art, or whatever else we do, the question, WHY?! often stands at the heart of our searching, activism, depression, confusion, and pain. This is true even when our lives have not been derailed by chronic illness, but of course when that or other catastrophic events occur to us the question assumes a critical importance. And of course, we can live years and years without finding an answer. I think you will understand when I say that "WHY?!" is the question which, no matter how it is posed throughout our lives, we each are.

One thing I should be clear about is that God gives us gifts because he wills us to use them and is delighted when we can and do so. I do not believe God gives gifts to frustrate us or to be wasted. But, as Paul puts the matter, and as we know from experience, there are powers and principalities at work in our world and lives which are not of God. God does not will chronic illness, for instance. Illness is a symptom and consequence of sin --- that is, it is the result of being estranged to some extent from the source and ground of life itself. Even so, though God does not will our illness, he will absolutely work to bring good out of it to whatever degree he can. Especially, God will work so that illness is no longer the dominant reality of our lives. It may remain, but where once it was the defining reality of our lives and identity, God will work so that grace becomes the dominant theme our lives sing instead; illness, though still very real perhaps, then becomes a kind of subtext adding depth and poignancy but lacking all pretensions of ultimacy.

This is really the heart of my answer to your questions. Each of us has many gifts we would like to develop and use. I think most of us have more gifts than we can actually do that with. For instance, if I choose to play violin and thus spend time and resources on lessons, practice periods, music, and time with friends who also play music, I may not be able to spend the time I could spend on writing or theology, or even certain kinds of prayer I also associate with divine giftedness. This is a normal situation and we all must make these kinds of choices as we move through life. Still, while we must make decisions regarding which gifts we will develop and which we will allow to lay relatively fallow there is a deeper choice involved at every moment, namely, what kind of person will we be in any case? When chronic illness takes the question of developing and using specific gifts out of our hands, when we cannot use our education, for instance, or no longer work seriously in our chosen field, when we cannot raise a family, hold a job, or perhaps even volunteer at Church in ways we might once have done, the question that remains is that of who we are and who will we be in relation to God.

The key here is the grace of God, that is, the powerful presence of God. Illness does not deprive us of the grace of God nor of the capacity to respond to that grace. In my own process of becoming a hermit, as you know, I had had my own life derailed by chronic illness. Fortunately, I had prepared to do Theology and loved systematics so that I read Theology even as illness deprived me of the possibility of doing this as a profession. I was also "certain" that I was called to some form of religious life; these two dimensions were gifts that helped me hold onto a perspective that transcended illness and disability, and at least potentially, promised to make sense of these.

My professors (but especially John C Dwyer) had introduced me to an amazing theology of the cross (both Pauline and Markan) which focused on a soteriology (a theology of redemption) stressing that even the worst that befalls a human being can witness to the redemption possible with God. In Mark's version of the gospel, the bottom line is that when all the props are kicked out, God will bring life out of death and meaning out of senselessness. In Paul's letters I was reminded many times that the center of things is his affirmation: "My (i.e., God's) grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness." Meanwhile, at one point I began working with a spiritual director who believed unquestioningly in the power of God alive in the core of our being and provided me with tools to help allow that presence to expand and triumph in my heart and life. In the course of our work together, my own prayer shifted from being something I did (or struggled to do!) to something God did within me. (This shift was especially occasioned and marked by the prayer experience I have mentioned here before.) In time I became a contemplative but at this point in time illness still meant isolation rather than the communion of solitude.

All of these pieces and others came together in a new way when I read canon 603 and began considering eremitical life.  The eremitical life is dependent upon God's call of course, but everything about it also witnesses to the truth that God's grace is enough for us and God's power is perfected in weakness. When we speak about the hiddenness of the life it is this active and powerful presence of God who graces us that is of first concern. I have many gifts, but in this life there is no doubt that they generally remain hidden and many are even entirely unused while the grace of God makes me the hermit I am called to be. Mainly this occurs in complete hiddenness. I may think and write about this life; I may do theology and a very little adult faith formation for my parish; I may do a limited amount of spiritual direction, play some violin in an orchestra, and even write on this blog and for publication to some extent --- though never to the extent I might have done these things had chronic illness not knocked my life off the rails. But the simple fact is if I were unable to do any of these things my vocation would be the same. I am called to BE a hermit, a whole and holy human being who witnesses to the deepest truth of our lives experienced in solitude: namely, God alone is sufficient for us. We are made whole and completed in the God who seeks us unceasingly and will never abandon us.

So you see, as I understand it anyway, my life is not so much about using the gifts God undoubtedly gave me at birth so much as it is about being the gift which God's love makes of me. Who I am as the result of God's grace is the essential ministry and witness of my life. Answering a call to eremitical life required that I really respond to a call I sensed from God, a call to abundant life --- not the life focused on what I could do much less on what I could not do, but the life of who God would make me to be if given the ongoing opportunity to shape my heart day by day by day. Regarding public profession and canonical standing under c 603, let me say that it took me some time to come to the place where I was really ready for these; today I experience even the long waiting required as a gift of God.

Paradoxically a huge part of my readiness for perpetual eremitical vows was coincident with coming to a place where I did not really need the Church's canonical standing except to the extent I was bringing them a unique gift. You see, I knew that the Holy Spirit had worked in my life to redeem an isolation and alienation occasioned mainly by chronic illness. THAT was the gift I was bringing the Church, the charism I was seeking to publicly witness to in the name of the Church by seeking public profession and consecration. That the Holy Spirit worked this way in my life in the prayer and lectio of significant solitude seems to me to be precisely what constitutes the gift of eremitical life.  (Of course canonical standing and especially God's consecration has also been a great gift to me but outlining that is another, though related, topic.)

Thus, when I renewed my petition to the Diocese of Oakland regarding admission to perpetual profession and consecration in the early 2000's, eremitical solitude had already transformed my life. I was already a hermit not because of any particular standing but because I lived the truth of redemption mediated to me in the silence of solitude. I sought consecration because now I clearly recognized this gift belonged to the Church and was meant for others; public standing in the consecrated state made that possible in a unique way. I was not seeking the Church's approval of this gift so I could be made a hermit "with status" so much as I was seeking a way to make a genuine expression of eremitical life and the redemption of isolation and meaninglessness it represented better known and accessible to others. That, I think, is the real importance of canonical standing, especially for the hermit; it witnesses more to the work of the Holy Spirit within the Church, more to the contemplative primacy of being over doing, and thus, less to the personal gifts of the person being professed and consecrated.

By the way, along the way I do use many of the gifts God has given me to some extent. Yesterday, for instance, I was able to play violin for a funeral Mass. I don't do this often at all because I personally prefer to participate in Mass differently than this, but it was a joy to do for friends in the parish. (A number of people who really do know me pretty well commented, "I didn't know you played the violin!") Today I did a Communion service and reflection as I do many Fridays during the year. Often times, as I have noted here before, I write reflections on weekly Scripture lections, and of course I write here and other places and do spiritual direction. This allows me to use some of my theology for others but even more fundamentally it is an expression of who I am in light of the grace of God in my life. Even so, the important truth is that the eremitical vocation (and, I would argue, any vocation to chronic illness!) is much more about being the gift God makes of us  --- no matter how hidden eremitical life or our illness makes that gift --- than it is a matter of focusing on or being anxious about using or not using the gifts God has given us.

In other words my life glorifies God and is a service to God's People even if no one has a clue what specific gifts God has given me because it reveals the power of God to redeem and transfigure a reality fraught with sin, death, and the power of the absurd. A non-eremitical vocation to chronic illness does the same thing if only one can allow God's grace to work in and transfigure them. We ourselves as covenant partners of God in all things then become the incarnate "answer" to the often-terrible question, "WHY?!!"  In Christ, in our graced and transfigured lives, this question ceases to be one of unresolved torment; instead, it becomes both an invitation to and an instance of hope-filled witness and joyful proclamation. "WHY??" So that Christ might live in me and in me triumph over all that brings chaos and meaninglessness to human lives. WHY?1! So that the God of life may triumph over the powers of sin and death in us, the Spirit may transform isolation into genuine solitude in us, and the things that ordinarily separate us from God may become sacraments of God's presence and inescapable, unconquerable love in us!

I hope this is helpful and answers your questions.

Again, Hiddenness and a Vocation to Extraordinary Ordinariness

[[ Hi Sister Laurel, does the hiddenness of the hermit say anything to the average person? I don't mean is hiddenness important to the hermit or even what is it, but rather does it speak to the average person and if so, what should they be hearing? Also, is the difference between the way you understand hiddenness and other hermits do, the difference between inner hiddenness and outer hiddenness? I don't necessarily mean is it only one vs only the other, but more about which has priority. Thank you.]]

That's a really great couple of questions, so thanks!! One of the things recent posts have focused on has been accountability and the public nature of this vocation; it is important that diocesan hermits reflect on what their life says to others. It is meant to be a proclamation of the Gospel, of course, but how does one do this when one is largely hidden from the life of the parish community and diocese? And why, then, is hiddenness important? I continue to believe that hiddenness is a derivative value that is rooted in the more primary elements of the life, namely, stricter separation from the world, persevering prayer, and the silence of solitude --- all values that say God must come first in our lives. At the same time this does not mean hiddenness is unimportant, nor that it does not have something to say to the average person. So what is it? what about it resonates or could well resonate with most people?

I wrote a piece some years ago (2008) about hiddenness and extraordinary ordinariness. Hiddenness and living an Extraordinary Ordinariness. The essential idea there was that hermits live very ordinary lives but the reason we do that is extraordinary and further, the grace of God transfigures the ordinary into something truly extraordinary. In other words, we live what every other person lives when at home, but we do so in order that God might be allowed to be God-With-Us. Yes, the focus of our days is likely different than it is for most people (prayer, lectio, study, writing or other activities, work) but the whole of the day is pretty normal and pretty typical of living one's life alone. One cooks and cleans for oneself, does the chores necessary, sleeps, eats, recreates, all the things most people do daily. I live in a complex with seniors and I suspect that my days generally look like the days of many of those living here -- though, again, my focus is different and that transfigures the whole.

What I think the hiddenness of my own life says to others is that in their own life, as they go about the ordinary things of the day, those things can also be transfigured if we learn to "pray the day". I don't mean one needs to spend hours in prayer as a separate activity (though some formal prayer will help with the rest), but instead, practice being present to whatever it is you are doing and let God be God-With-You in that. Each of us lives a pretty ordinary life, but especially those who live alone at home. If we can let God accompany us and be open to God's presence in everything we are and do what is ordinary becomes extraordinary. The way some say this is to do everything with love. We do the ordinary with an extraordinary intention. The essence of loving God, of course, is to let God be God, and in doing so, to become truly human, so we are saying essentially the same thing. 

One dimension of the Gospel is the way God values us and our lives, the way God delights in everything about us (except perhaps our sin). Most of us would like our lives to be meaningful (significant) and even important (of import). What hermits say in their hiddenness, their embrace of extraordinary ordinariness is that living our day well and allowing God to accompany us in that is significant and possibly, it is the most significant thing we may ever do. Hermits live an ordinariness made extraordinary by the grace of God. I believe that is possible for all of us, though most will accomplish it in a non-eremitical context. All of this is a way of honoring hiddenness.

Regarding your second question, if you mean by outer things the focus on clothes, anonymity, "blending in", no public presence, and things like that, then yes, I definitely see the hiddenness of eremitical life as less about those things than it is about the dimensions of the life no one ever sees, namely, our focus on letting God be God in the every-day stuff, and thus, becoming fully human in the silence of solitude. This latter has priority for me, and I think, for any hermit. But my life, with its title, habit, cowl, and post-nominal initials also witnesses to the fact that I live this life in the name of the Church and in fact, in the heart of the Church. 

Some speak of struggling to blend or "fit in" as part of their hiddenness. I do not because I don't think I need to do that. Instead, I see myself already belonging deeply and truly to the Church and to all that is precious to God. When one belongs in this way, when one is open to all God loves, "blending in" or even acting to "fit in" is unnecessary and even counterproductive. Eremitical hiddenness involves the "outer" hiddenness you refer to, yes. Still, that is secondary; our life project, the thing we live for and from, the truly critical dynamic that defines our lives and marks our success at that life is truly hidden from the eyes of others --- except, perhaps, when grace spills over in a holiness that will help change the face of creation. 

Following up on the Hiddenness of the Eremitical Life

[[ Dear Sister, what you wrote in your last post about the hiddenness of the hermit vocation was very striking to me. Is this a new position or the intensification of one you had come to before?]]

Thanks for writing. The position is a deepening of something I have known for a while now. It looks like I began writing about hiddenness with a post in 2008 on essential hiddenness and a call to extraordinary ordinariness and followed that up with others. I began to focus on hiddenness again around August of 2014 and wrote on the difference between the value and the utility of eremitical life. I put up several posts in the Summer of 2015 so I am going to repost one of those below. All of this recent work, and some of the earlier stuff, comes from the coincidence of questions regarding anonymity, accountability, and my own continuing inner work --- what my Director might refer to as the deepening of one's participation or sharing in the Mystery of love and life ---that is, the Mystery at the heart of reality we call God.

Witnessing to the God who Saves:

[[Sister Laurel, when you write, "in every person's life God works silently in incredible hiddenness," I wonder. Is this what the followers of Francis de Sales mean by "interiority?" I spoke with [a Sister friend] a few months ago - and she asked me "How is that interiority coming?" I didn't know how to answer her, but I thought it might be something like this.]] (There were other questions included in this email about the distinction between being the gift and using gifts. Some reflected on the idea of merely being present to others and being gift in that way. I focus on those here as well.)

 

While it is true I am saying the hermit is a gift simply in being present to others, I am saying more than that as well because quite often (in fact, most of the time) a hermit is present to no one but God. Before you go out and do, before you are present to or for others in any way at all, and even if you never go out to others, I am saying that God is at work in you healing and sanctifying. That, as I understand it,  is the witness of the hermit life. That is its special gift or charism.  We say this with our lives; whether we ever speak to a living soul, pray for another person or not (though of course we will pray for others), whether we ever write another word, or paint another picture, or use our individual gifts in any way at all, we witness to the Gospel  and to the God who makes us whole and holy simply by being ourselves as redeemed.

Extending this to you and all others it means that should you (or they) never take another person shopping, never make another person smile, never use the gift you are in any way except to allow the God who is faithfulness itself to be faithful to you, THAT is the hiddenness and the gift I am mainly talking about. Yes, it involves the hiddenness of God at work in us but that is the very reason we ourselves are gift. We witness to the presence of God in the silence of solitude, in the darkness, in the depths of aloneness, etc. We do that by becoming whole, by becoming loving (something that requires an Other to love us and call us to love), by not going off the rails in solitude and by not becoming narcissists or unbalanced cynics merely turned in on self and dissipated in distraction. We do it by relating to God, that is, by allowing God to be God.

Cultivating this sense of God at work in us, emptying ourselves (or being stripped by circumstances and learning to see this as an incredible gift) so that we only witness to God, allowing ourselves to let go of anything but God as the source and validation of our lives is, I think at least, the heart of cultivating a sense of interiority. Interiority itself is our life of Communion with the God who is the creator, source, and ground of that same life. Its focus is God and includes his redemption of us, his healing, sanctification, and intimacy. When I wrote here before about developing a spirituality of discernment I was also writing about cultivating interiority. That is why resisting discernment while speaking constantly about “discerning” is actually a resistance to the development of interiority; if one cannot deal with one's feelings and all that is going on within them, then neither can one claim to be a discerning person with a healthy interiority.  If and to the extent one does not see the whole of reality from the perspective of the light and life of God, then to that extent one has not developed a genuine interiority. (I will have to ask my pastor about St Francis de Sales' own take on interiority! I simply don't know Francis well enough.) 

Most of us witness to all of this by using our gifts. Hermits (and especially recluses) do it by flourishing in an environment that really does say God alone is enough. In this environment the gifts we have possessed from birth and for whose development we have often spent time, money and effort in education and training may well be largely irrelevant. When I speak of us being the gift I mean that the hermit's very life and capacity for love says God is real, faithful, and an intimate, integral, and even inalienable part of our deepest reality. My eremitical life is not about me, my intelligence, my persistence (and stubbornness!), my creativity (or lack thereof), my musicality, or any other specific talents that may also be present. It is about God as source and ground, God as faithful lover, friend and sovereign, God as redeemer who will never let go of us but instead transfigures us so we truly image God. That is what makes my life a gift --- even, and maybe especially, when I do not touch anyone directly, even when I reject the role of "prayer warrior" (which seems to me to emphasize a kind of worldly perspective on the primacy of doing over being), even when chronic illness allows for no ministry at all but only my own hungry and even desperate openness to God in weakness and incapacity.

The church that professed and consecrated me under a new and largely unprecedented canon witnesses to this truth. The existence of canon 603 itself witnesses to this eremitical truth and describes the gift it represents under the heading “the silence of solitude”.  My bishop and delegate witness to this by coming to know me and the way God has worked in my life, as well as by professing me and continuing to allow me to live this life in the name of the Church. This witness to the providence of God at work in the silence of solitude is why canonical standing and the relationships established there in law are so vital. The church continues to esteem eremitical life as a pure, even starkly contemplative instance of the abundant sufficiency of God. God is the gift this life witnesses to precisely as it turns its back on --- or is stripped of --- every gift it otherwise ‘possesses’.  And of course, this is also why c 603 must not be misused or abused as a stopgap solution for those with no true eremitical vocation. To do so is, for instance, to risk honoring selfishness and spiritual mediocrity ("lukewarmness") or institutionalizing cowardice and misanthropy. The eremitical life is a generous one of giving oneself to God for the sake of others. But it is also rare to be graced or called to witness in this particular form of stripping and emptying (kenosis).

As I noted here recently, I once thought contemplative life and especially eremitic life was a waste and incredibly selfish. For those authentic hermits the Church professes and consecrates, and for those authentic lay hermits who live in a hiddenness only God can and does make sense of, the very thing that made this life look selfish to me is its gift or charism. It is the solitude of the hermit's life, the absence of others, and even her inability to minister actively to others or use her gifts that God transforms into an ultimate gift. Of course, in coming to understand this, it is terribly important that we see the "I" of the hermit as the "We" symbolized by the term "the silence of solitude". It is equally important that we never profess anyone who does not thrive as a human being in this particular environment. In other words, my life, I think, is meant to witness starkly and exclusively to the God who makes of an entirely impoverished "me" a sacramental "We" when I could do nothing at all but allow this to be done in me.

Eremitical Vocations and Their Place in the Life of the World

 [[Sister Laurel, I wondered if you ever feel called to greater degrees of ministry? You have a good education that could help the church and parishes and you must have been preparing for ministry, so do you ever feel like you should be doing more than you are? When I think of hermits the life doesn't make sense to me, not in a world that is in such awful shape as ours is. We need all the ministers we can get! I'm not so sure we need hermits!! (I don't mean to offend you, but I hope you hear what I am saying!!) I guess what I am also asking is if you are completely comfortable with your choice to be a hermit. Don't you sometimes want to do other things to help the world instead of separating yourself off from it?]]

Thanks for your honest questions!! I think you have captured the doubts of most people when they hear the word "hermit."  Most folks, if they have any positive idea of what a hermit is, will refer to us as prayer warriors. I have to say, while I agree that a hermit is first of all a pray-er and will pray for the well being of the world and everyone we know, and while we will "battle demons" (usually those of our own hearts), the phrase "prayer warrior"is one I personally really dislike and that for three reasons: 1) the term is too pugnacious for me, too bellicose, too adversarial, 2) it turns the hermit life into one that is first of all about doing rather than being, and 3) it identifies prayer as my doing, not what God does within me (as though I storm heaven to get God to respond when the situation is quite the opposite).** But most people do not even have this sense of who a hermit is. They tend to echo your questions about the meaningfulness and place of eremitical life in the overall scheme of things and come up with unconvincing answers.

And these are important questions!! I recently told the story of how I came to this vocation. I said that upon reading c 603, I had the sense that it could make sense of (that is, make meaningful) my entire life: richnesses and poverty, talents and limitations. In doing this it could cause my entire life to hang together (cohere) in Christ. At other times I have written about how a hermit must give up some of those discrete gifts she has been given to instead herself become the gift God wishes her to be for the church and world. Both of these are highly countercultural and even counterintuitive insights that are central to eremitical life. In living as a hermit I struggled for some time to "balance" ministry with my inner life and life in the hermitage. Eventually, I learned it was not precisely about balancing these,  but letting active ministry, to whatever extent there would be any, flow from the silence of solitude and call for it as well. I still do some limited active ministry including teaching Scripture and some faith formation, spiritual direction, mentoring, consulting on c 603, and growing this blog. 

But what you and others don't see and what is really primary to and defines my life is the inner work and prayer that help make me into the person God calls me to be. This is my primary ministry because what a hermit's life is all about is witnessing to what is possible when one allows God to love one as God wills to love us. Allowing God to love me as profoundly and unconditionally as God does, is "work" because so much militates (or did militate) against that. Hence it requires persevering prayer and penance -- though what counts as "penance" might surprise you! There is an amazing paradox involved here. When we think about what it means to love another person, we realize it means finding ways to allow them to be those they are meant and called to be. To reiterate, to help others to be themselves as truly as possible is what it means to love them and the same is true of loving God. To love God with our whole self is to allow God, who is Love-in-act and who has willed not to remain alone, to be God for us. We allow God to love us as wholly and fully as possible --- this is our vocation. To be persons who let God be God is a good summary of what c 603 hermits are commissioned, first of all, to be and then, to act from.

While that is a wonderful thing to focus our lives on, it is also not something that comes easily to us.  And for some, it can be more difficult than for others, of course. But what a hermit witnesses to, and in fact, what she gives her life over to is the completion or fullness of life that is ours with and in God. As I have written before, she reminds us all that [[we are made whole and holy by God. We are incomplete without God and our lives will not be truly human unless we are in a vital relationship with God --- and when we are, well, WATCH OUT, for then life and meaning will explode within us and everyone will know it! Part of the witness we give is to the possibility of every person living joyful and fruitful lives despite all of the various forms of poverty we also know well. My sense is that we give this witness, especially to those persons who, for whatever reason find themselves on the margins --- of society, of family, of meaningful community. We say this to the chronically ill and disabled, to those who have never been loved as they are meant to be, to the littlest, the least, and the lost.]]

All of this is the reason hermits, at least in the main, give up apostolic ministry. They commit to allowing God to do for them what is promised to everyone, including or maybe especially those who have only God to depend on. What we say to others, is much the same except we try to remind them of how critically important God is to each of us, to what it means to be truly human. Hermits say to each of us that prayer, which is God's work within us, is critical to being human; it is what Love does within us if we are merely able to open ourselves to that. For most hermits I know, there is still some limited active ministry. It flows from their lives of the silence of solitude and leads back to it. As I noted above, for me that includes a bit of teaching, and spiritual direction. Occasionally, I also work with candidates for c 603 profession and consecration for dioceses that consult in this, and I am working on a guidebook to assist dioceses in the process of discernment and formation of c 603 hermits. That is about the limit of what I can do while maintaining my prayer life --- a prayer life that is necessary as much for God's sake and for myself as it is for others.

I don't separate myself from the world exactly. I live within it in the silence of solitude precisely so I can love the world into wholeness. It would be a crucial mistake to think I am not engaged with the world and especially that I am not engaged on its behalf. I agree that this cannot be seen or even easily understood; it is what the catechism refers to as the hiddenness of the eremitical life, but it is real nonetheless. The difficulty of pointing to something I do directly for others is, I think, one of the reasons people insist on identifying intercessory prayer as the heart of the vocation. That too is a very significant part of this vocation, I agree, but more foundational or basic is living the whole of one's life so that God may be God and complete and perfect one as a human being because we are his very own, that God might affirm our lives as meaningful despite limitations and poverty of every sort, or, in other words, that God might be God with and in and through us. Will this spill over and change the face of the world? I can only trust that it will!***

In thinking about this hiddenness, I think it is important to remember c 603 reads stricter separation or withdrawal from the world; it does not read absolute isolation or strictest separation (reclusion) --- though some few may be called to that. World in this canon means, first of all, that which is contrary or resistant to Christ and only secondarily the larger world of God's good creation. The hermit's life involves withdrawal (anachoresis) from both but in differing ways and degrees. I feel called to a life of withdrawal from the world so that I am more capable of loving that same world as Christ loves. I can understand why the hermit life does not make sense to you; I struggled to understand it myself and especially to understand why it was not a selfish way of life. What I have come to know profoundly is that it is an intensely generous life when lived well (and thus, for the right reasons). I hope this is a fair summary of my perspective and the way it differs from your own. Please get back to me if it raises more questions.

**  I hold this despite what St Peter Damian says about this in Letter 28:46. Hermits in a colony are soldiers and their cells are their place of bivouac. I like Peter Damian in some things and I understand this image. It is cogent and has merit but I still dislike the phrase prayer warrior!

***  (I say this because two weeks ago my director shared a quote from Archbishop Desmond Tutu, [[“Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”]] We were talking about trusting that the eremitical life (or, in Sister Marietta's case, the apostolic religious life), for all its littleness and limitations in what we can do in the face of such great need, will become a flood that transforms the world. For me, this also recalls the motto of my eremitic life and consecration: "My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 12:9)