Measuring Growth in Eremitical Life

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I wondered how you measure growth in eremitical life. Do you look for prayer experiences or "stages" in prayer? When I look at how I am growing, I look at relationships and my capacity to love, but how does that work if one is a hermit? You probably see what I am getting at. I know you are a scholar but I don't get the sense that you measure personal growth in terms of scholarship or canonical standing or other externals, so how do you measure growth in your own life or in the life of others you work with?]]

Wow, good questions! Challenging too, because they are questions that we all think we know the answer to until we try to put that answer into words! At that point, we are apt to find we have never asked ourselves the question so directly and never really listened to the answer we have been trying to discover and live. So, let me say initially there are two ways to read your initial question. The first means [[How do I recognize I am growing as a hermit?]] The second is, [[How do I recognize I am growing as a person?]]. Ideally, if one is called to be a hermit, the answers to each will overlap, be similar, and even identical, because growth in one's vocation will mean growing as a human being and growing as a human being will mean growing as God calls one to grow. Still, it is possible for someone to grow into a version of a hermit they hold as normative and be warped as a human being. This is one of the reasons it is so critical to honestly discern what vocation it is to which God calls us. But, back to [[how do I measure growth in eremitical life]] --- and I am going to try to answer both ways of reading that initial question!

In measuring my growth as a hermit there are externals that help me mark progress in my vocation and I do pay attention to those. The most central one is how faithful am I to prayer? No matter what I am doing, how I am feeling, whether I am sick or upset, feeling terrific, in pain, or whatever is going on, I am called to be a person of assiduous prayer. In fact, the NT counsel in this (and for more than hermits!) is to "pray always". This is the goal of God creating each and all of us, and the place where growth as a hermit and growth as a human being coincide. It is not enough to pray a lot, especially if by saying we pray a lot we mean saying a lot of prayers. Here we move from the externals of the life to a deeper, inner place --- and yet, the externals remain important. 

What this counsel to pray always calls for instead, is that we allow ourselves to be transformed into persons in whom God is able to breathe, speak, and sing himself at every moment and mood of our life. Yes, this begins with persistence in regular prayer and it may involve what have sometimes been defined as "stages" of prayer (though really, in some senses one moves backward and forward through these various ways of praying as the exigencies of life demand, and does not so much approach them as a kind of ladder to be climbed). Thus, I think growth in prayer means growth in allowing myself to be loved by God and too, in allowing God to love through me, to relate appropriately to the world he has made his own dwelling place. This always begins and ends by letting God be God. I think that love of God must be defined in these terms before anything else. Love of others will similarly mean allowing (accepting, guiding, nurturing, empowering) them as/to be the persons God calls them to be.

The ways I open myself (in response) to God's love (and thus, let God be God) are numerous and all are important in becoming faithful to prayer in the way I am speaking of prayer here. (This is true even when these things don't seem particularly "spiritual" to us. Remember that prayer is always God's own work within us, God's own being Godself within us.) Prayer periods, silence, study, lectio divina (Scripture and other spiritual reading), journaling, work with my director, recreation like playing music or coloring, walks, regularity in sleep and waking (a real difficulty for me sometimes), liturgical prayer and time with others, teaching Scripture, doing spiritual direction, and serious friendships --- all of these and more are part of being faithful to prayer. While some of these are more critical than others on an everyday basis (i.e., they will shape my day, day in and day out), all of them open me to God's presence so that (he) may work within and through me. So, a piece of measuring my own growth has to include an assessment of how carefully (full of care) I approach all of these. 

Bro Mickey McGrath osfs**

When I was studying theology formally my major professor used to characterize the fruit of the Gospel as making a person capable of [[living in joy and dying in peace]]! I think that in many ways that is the way I measure growth in eremitical life as well. Usually, however, I speak about it as "the silence of solitude" --- a constitutive element defining canon 603 life which I identify as the vocation's charism. For me, this term points to personal healing, to the stillness of shalom, and to the joy-filled wholeness of the individual person who stands in constant dialogue with the God of Love who always wills to be Emmanuel -- God-With-Us. As I have written several times recently, I believe that Emmanuel defines not just God's deepest will for Godself, but for us too and that means being a Self-With-God God is what it means to be truly human. That will be our joy in life and our peace in death. That will be our truest identity. It shouldn't be a surprise then, that the prayer of union is the highest form of contemplative prayer, or that I identify "praying always" as the primary goal of growth as a human being and as a hermit.

In persons I work with, I use the same criteria really --- though, because most of these persons are not hermits, I recognize that the source of authentic joy and peace that is God, will be mediated to and through them differently than it is for me or for other hermits. Still, the signs of growth will be the same. Are they more whole? More truly alive? Are their relationships better and more loving? (This is certainly true for hermits too, by the way!!) Is their work fulfilling and a source of creativity and fruitfulness for themselves and others? Do they live with greater intensity, integrity, and intelligence, and, in the whole of their lives, are they more attentive and responsible? In other words, are they more truly human and moved by the will/love of God? Do they live in joy and can they die in peace (that is, even when things are difficult, are they deeply happy and fulfilled) because in either case, in and with God they are truly being themselves? 

Regarding prayer stages, I look for these mainly to assess what, if anything, needs to change in the way I am directing or accompanying the person. Regarding canonical standing, I do try to ascertain whether someone is ready to make the kind of commitment canonical standing presupposes and calls for, that kind of commitment requires evidence of all of the other things first of all. Jesus came that we might have life and have it abundantly. The commitments we make and recommend others to be allowed to make should, it seems to me, be marked by a clear path towards more truly-abundant life. If the commitment is a public one, then that life is, and is always meant to be, at the service of others in an explicit way. Both the one making the commitment and those helping to discern such a call must be aware of the way God is at work in the person to create life.

I've ranged all over the place in this answer. As I said, it was/is a challenging set of questions. Please feel free to ask anything I was unclear on again, or for whatever clarifications you think might help. Meanwhile, I will think about what I have said here and see if I can get greater clarity and order in my response. If I can, I will follow up with further posts on the same topic.

** I chose Bro Mickey's photo above because he is simply one of the most joyful folks I know.  His joy is not superficial or lacking in seriousness; it does not lack shadows that also reveal the presence of light. It is deep and real and especially spills out in his art. Those of you who are also friends or acquaintances will recognize the appropriateness of the picture to the text!

On the Prayer Lives of Hermits

[[Dear Sister, I have a question regarding the prayer life of a hermit. Do all hermits pray the Liturgy of the Hours? And if so, do they say the Roman Office or do they pick an Office that reflects their spirituality (ie. a Benedictine arrangement)?  Since hermits make a formal commitment to the Church, I'm sure saying the public prayer of the Church is essential to their vocation.  Finally, are hermits required to say all the Offices of the day and when not saying those fill their day with other devotions?

When I look at the horarium of hermit religious communities they seem full of private devotions on top of the full breviary. For example:  Carmelite Hermits. I'm wondering how a hermit develops his or her prayer rule and how a hermit discerns a balance between laxity and following one's personal tastes in prayer on the one hand a rigorous that is so difficult as to be impossible to fulfil. ]]

Several really good questions, thank you! Regarding the Liturgy of the Hours the simple answer is no, strictly speaking these are not required by canon 603 nor any other canon unless the hermit is also a priest. I know at least one diocesan hermit who does not pray them at all. I know of another diocesan hermit, now deceased, who did not pray the LOH (Liturgy of the Hours) or even have some sort of general horarium. (I cannot tell you how much I advise against this and find it a terribly imprudent practice for an eremitical life! Besides, it is contrary to the requirements of canon 603 itself.) That said I don't know any other hermits who do not pray some portion of the LOH each day. I also suspect that most Bishops would require the hermit who did not pray them to have a pretty convincing reason for not doing so; I am pretty certain the majority of Bishops would be unlikely to profess someone for whom the LOH was not at least a significant part of their prayer. After all, they are the prayer of the Church and my vocation, as you note, is an ecclesial one.

Still, the hermit is required to live a life of assiduous prayer and penance. Nothing in that phrase specifies what that means. Thus, what that looks like in each life will likely differ. It is part of the freedom of the hermit to listen and respond to the Spirit as she will. In my own Rule and life I only include 3 or 4 of the hours of the LOH. I also use the Camaldolese Office book because it is singable with musically interesting but simple psalm tones;  I also complement it with the Roman LOH, especially at times when I cannot sing or if I am going to do the Office of Readings, etc. Any hermit is free to do something similar.

While I need the structure these provide as well as the content itself and the tone the major hours set for the time of day or week or season, I find praying the little hours fragments my day and generally speaking, doing so actually detracts from my prayer. Again, as I have said before, as I understand this vocation, hermits generally are about praying, and more, about becoming incarnations of God's own prayer in this world, not simply about saying prayers. That is the way I understand "pray always." Clearly that differs from some conceptions. That said, I do find some devotions helpful, especially when things in my life make prayer difficult. During times of illness I use rote prayers or Taize chants to assist me. I  may also use the little hours as well as shortened versions of the major ones in the LOH. When traveling I use a bead bracelet and pray the Jesus prayer for the people around me. I may also read a single psalm very slowly and meditatively at such times. During walks I may do something similar for the people in my life or pray a rosary.

Otherwise, however, my own prayer tends to quiet prayer outside of Mass and the LOH (though I allow for periods of contemplation during the LOH as well as after it and also during Communion services). Similarly the practice of vigil replaces the saying of vigils (Office of Readings) for me so that the period from 4:00-8:00 or 3:00-8:00 am is ordinarily a period of vigil. While I sing Lauds during this time I also spend at least an hour in quiet prayer and another in writing --- usually journaling but also blogging on something like the daily readings or a topic I have been thinking and praying about.

Recently, for instance (during the Easter season), that included work on the Ascension and the Bridal imagery of the Scriptures which is tied to our understanding of the dynamic of divine descent and ascent --- so this topical approach tends to reflect an ongoing focus in my meditation and theological work. About 8:10 am I leave for Mass if I am going there and that is usually the end of a period of quiet for me until I return to the hermitage for Scripture, lectio, quiet prayer and then dinner (lunch). You see, for me personally, filling the day with devotions is a real distraction. This is not so much a matter of personal "taste" in prayer as it is a matter of discerning the kind of prayer God is calling me to at this stage in my life. I work out what forms of prayer are lifegiving to me and what forms really contribute to the silence of solitude which is the environment and goal of my life.

One of the reasons a hermit petitioning for profession under canon 603 requires years of living as a lay hermit before doing so is precisely so they can have a sense of what prayer is best for them and when. My own sense is that filling the day with devotions is a beginner's strategy. It may be fine before a person really develops a contemplative life and matures into quiet prayer, etc but at some point the person really does have to stop, sit in silence, and confront the voice of God in her own heart. While I know they want a balance in each hermit's life between prayer, work and leisure, I suspect that some communities use devotions as ways of being sure a hermit in cell is never plagued by empty time. But for the contemplative "empty time" is precisely where one turns to God in silent faith. It may also be a way for communities to cut back on the diversity hermits may enjoy in their time in cell and to increase the uniformity of the life.

The Camaldolese as a group, for instance, do not structure their lives in such a way as the link you provided though of course they are free to do so individually. Though they come together regularly for liturgical prayer and for sitting in silence as well, the hermit is free in cell to pray as he is called to and this can certainly mean additional devotions as well as periods of rest and recreation not only so that God may speak differently to the hermit, but so "the bow is not always kept taut." Cf Hermits and Vacations for the Desert Father story taken from John Cassian's Conferences. I recall that one of the best pieces of advice I was ever given was after Dom Robert Hale, OSB Cam read the Rule I proposed to submit to my diocese prior to solemn eremitical profession. He was complimentary but also said he hoped I would not forget to build in sufficient time for rest and recreation. In some ways that has made a huge difference in the quality of my contemplative life, and mainly for the better.

How does one determine all this? Well, one certainly learns (becomes familiar with) all the prayer forms one can and tries them to see which are lifegiving and in what ways and at what times. One journals and talks with her director to see if she might be using one form of prayer to avoid something else --- that profound listening that requires one be in touch with her deepest heart, for instance, or monastic leisure and letting go of the need to "produce" or do rather than be. These latter difficulties are or can be reflections of the worldliness that follows us into the hermitage so we must not simply slap a pious practice over it and think we have "left the world" or begun to truly pray as a hermit in so doing. (It is the case that even certain practices in prayer, certain affectations or attachments may be more worldly than not.) In any case, one pays attention to how prayer affects one. Has it ceased nourishing one as it once did? Does it not seem to fit new circumstances? Is it irritating or disquieting and why? Does it reinforce worldly attitudes and values -- doing over being, experience and superficial emotion over self-emptying (which will involve more profound emotions) and a commitment to love God for God's own sake? (Depending on the answer to these latter questions one may discover one is called to jettison the practice or to continue and deepen it.) One goes slowly and listens carefully. One moves step by step over a period of time and with the assistance of her director and others.
 

I hope this is helpful.

Followup to Mystical Experience and One's Place in the World

I received a couple of emails, one from the original questioner, another with someone with additional questions, and one from Peter Smith with both some questions and a reference to his blog where he responded to my earlier post about Mystical Experience and our Place in the World. At this point I want to respond to Peter's blog article, and, when I have a chance, to the questions from his and the other emails. The idea is to continue a dialogue. So please check out his blog. (I can't seem to get the links to show up, so check out thegoodcatholicmystic.blogspot.com) Peter writes:

[[I can't comment directly to sr. laurel's blog (it isn't set up this way), but i wanted to comment on her post regarding the mystical state. First of lall, I should ask for clarification, because i wonder if we dealing in semantics. She seems to relegate 'mystical' experiences to 'mountain-top' experiences only, or as sort of ER help from the divine for the spiritually weak or immature. At least, that's what it sounded like she said. Um. Not my idea of what mysticism is about. Mysticism is a vocation; a way of life, an every minute, every day experience. Certainly it is not the normal province for the spiritually immature--isn't it usually the mark of the spiritually advanced? At least, some of the most spiritually 'powerful' saints in our canon were marked by a constant mystical life.]]

Yes, to some degree this is a matter of semantics, though not wholly so I think. The simplest answer re relegating the term "mystical experiences" to peak experiences is that for most of us the more everyday mysticism is called contemplative life (or something similar) and "mystical experiences" (ecstasy, trance, visions, locutions, etc) is the language of specific kinds of rarer events. In part that is done to rescue "contemplative life/prayer" from a sense of being for specialists only or from being associated only with special experiences --- especially those which separate from others or mark one out as unusual in some way. Some of the other reasons I noted in my earlier blog piece, and others relate to elements in the history of mysticism in Catholicism --- especially in the late medieval period which were problematical then and remain so even now for those who read without a sense of history and context. Clearly though, knowledgeable and reputable people write books (and blogs!!) about "everyday mysticism" or "practical mysticism," etc, so it can be done appropriately. When Peter speaks of "the mystical life" I think he is referring to a life lived in light of a pervasive sense of the mystery or ground of reality. If so, then I would agree completely that it is an everyday reality. But my own solution with this and other terms is to use contemplative instead (not least because it does not need to be qualified by the terms "everyday" or "practical") and to reserve "mystical experience" for the rarer and peak experiences. Similarly I would refer to a person with a contemplative life as a contemplative, even though at the heart of that is an awareness of (or resting in) the mystery which grounds all reality.

Also, Peter and other readers should be aware that the question I was responding to posed things in terms of 1) a wholly artificial and inappropriate division between a putative TCW (Temporal Catholic World) and MCW (Mystical Catholic World), --- especially in terms of the mystic being divided (alienated) from the temporal world --- and 2) mystical experiences per se which were specified as ecstasy, trance, and the like. The sections of the question which were not included, and which may have been marked by ellipses, referred to a specific situation which defines a prayer life in terms of extraordinary and alienating experiences and which can be seriously destructive in a parish environment. This situation is not mine to make public, but it underscores my own tendency to use contemplative in place of mystical, as well as to relegate mystical experiences to moments of significant breakthrough or union which enhance rather than detract from one's relation with this world. It may very well be that the notion of an everyday or "practical" mysticism would provide a way of countering the unfortunate elements in the situation referred to, but at this point I am not convinced.

One reason for this hesitancy is because the terms mystic or mysticism seem to set one up to expect as natural the more dramatic experiences we count as mystical: ecstasies, trances, visions, locutions, and the like. If one then finds they do not happen, or happen very infrequently, one can come to believe that there is something seriously wrong with one's prayer. But all prayer is God's work within us and those really peak experiences of union are complete gifts given according to God's will and wisdom. It becomes especially tricky if one has come to identify such experiences with advanced prayer ---- and spiritually dangerous as well, I think. We have better ways of measuring the quality of advancement in a prayer life: does one's prayer lead to greater compassion, joy, peace, creativity, hope, deeper and more authentic humanity? Does it allow one to suffer with equanimity and courage in a way which relativizes suffering so it, real as it is, does not define one's being? Does it sustain one even in the times when God seems absent, when life disappoints cruelly, and one feels out of step with the world? Does it lead one not to a sense of being different than others, but to a sense that one is really, in profound ways, the same as everyone else? That is, does it lead one to a sense of deep communion with God, and solidarity with his creation --- all that and those he regards as precious? Again, ecstatic or rapturous experiences of union with God do happen to those with little or no really developed prayer lives, so the experiences as such may or may not indicate advancement in prayer. They must be accompanied by these other more authentic signs of spiritual growth. I think that some of my concern in this regard --- the notion that we will come to measure the quality of our prayer by the presence or absence of peak mystical experiences --- is given at least a slight basis in Peter's blog entry on my original post.

He writes: [[ Frankly, in my 26 years of an intentional spiritual life, we experience, usually, what we EXPECT to experience. And there is no contradiction here. If we expect for 'mountaintop' experiences to happen only once per (fill in the blank) then that is what we shall have. If we anticipate that god will intersect with us daily, strangely, physically (so it seems), then he does. This is no mere 'wish fulfillment'; in my view it is a very fundamental and profound and sublime truth. If we wish the spiritual life to be difficult, to be dry, to be 'i-thou', to be usually 'reaching out', then it shall be.

To each his own. But as for me, a different path has chosen me. As sister said so eloquently when she expressed her feeling of the inexpressible joy of the Jesu during one of her own mystical experiences, 'where have you been, I'm so glad you are here'---does this not intimate that the Jesu expects us to be with him always, in every moment, and in that same sublime and inexpressible and mystical way? Why could it not mean that? I don't doubt that sister experiences god in a intimate and even in an ever-present way---but why must a 'mystical' union with god play so infrequent a role?]]

Let me be clear. In my prayer I am as open as I can be to God being present in whatever way (he) desires to be, but I (thank God!) do not usually get what I expect --- and so I practice not expecting any particular thing and again, simply being open. This is a reflection of my recognition that I am God's to do with as he will --- and my commitment to become that more and more. God is always a God of surprises, and we are always those who forget or underestimate (or perhaps --- and rightly so --- cannot hang onto) his awesomeness. Nor, in saying that I use the term mystical experiences for some peak or touchstone experiences, am I implying that my prayer otherwise is merely dry, difficult, or anything similar. Of course it also has these moments, and yet, even at these times it is rich, and alive with God's presence. In a very real sense, union with God is a daily reality I know (unless I opt out of that) --- even when I don't sense or feel it clearly, and I act and live in light of that deep knowledge --- and more importantly, in light of the deep knowledge that my prayer is a significant event (or experience) for God no matter what I personally experience.

However, wonderful as this ongoing sense of presence is, it is at least not as intense as those peak experiences I identify as "mystical experiences." As for what Jesus or God in Christ wishes for me, I have no doubt that one day "mystical union" in the sense Peter means, will simply be the whole of my reality, however I also have the sense that that time is not now. I still experience a union I call contemplative, and I am open to "more" whenever God deigns to give himself to me in this way; there is also no doubt, though, that were this to become a regular or frequent thing it would change my life and ministry dramatically, and, at this point, I have a strong sense that this is indeed where God wills me to be. Indeed, the last 40+ years have prepared for this place and time in my life and I know that God is as joyfiled over this as he was during that first 40 minute prayer experience 25 years ago.

So, I am not saying that "mystical union" cannot happen (my faith is clear that it can, does, and will), or that God does not wish it in my life (he has and does) ---- and certainly it is true that He wills it ultimately for every person. But in my theology it is also true that both human beings and God continue to experience estrangement from, as well as union with one another, and this estrangement and alienation witnesses to the imperfection and to the ongoing work still needed to bring all things to fulfillment in Christ. My experience is that God is infinitely patient and works constantly to reconcile, that is, to bring everything to union with himself. He gives us Scriptures, Sacraments, a Savior, prophets, mystics, and occasional mystical experiences as well to remind us of (and achieve) the goal of both his own and our lives, but it makes sense to me that we cannot dwell on the mountaintop at all times. Like Moses, and Jesus himself, we must come down to lead, witness to, heal, and inspire --- and of course, we must come down so that we ourselves may grow through our encounters with those who lead, witness to, heal, and inspire us as well. That is simply the normal way the Spirit of God works in our world.


Gifts must be used, spent, given away or otherwise shared rather than grasped at and that means coming down from the mountain to dwell where most others are most of the time. With Christ, we are reminded that he did not count equality with God something to be grasped at, but rather emptied himself. Did he experience a contemplative union with God during his life? Yes, except during the passion, it seems. Does he return to the Father in a way akin to mystical union in the Ascension (and perhaps during those times he went off to pray alone)? Yes, but descent was necessary so that the whole of creation could ultimately ascend to God as well. It is an image which reminds me of the rhythms of my own life and prayer, and one (among others) which helps me understand why those experiences I call "mystical experiences" happen relatively infrequently in the lives of most serious "pray-ers".

I am tempted to ask myself, "In all of this which has been of most significance to you, Laurel, the peak experiences like the one described, or the more everyday ongoing sense of dialogue and union with a God that constitutes part of your very being?" And I cannot say either is more important or more true. One worked like a jolt of electricity searing my mind and heart and changing forever the way I see myself and what I know as both my present and future. The other is like a well-banked and slow-burning fire which provides constant warmth, light, comfort and challenge. But both are with me always, just as both are of God and are the will of God.

N.B pictures are of "Transfiguration" by Lewis Bowman and are available in stretched Giclee canvas, matted and framed version, and simple print from fineartamerica.com.

Mystical Experiences and One's Place in the World

[[Dear Sister, I know you don't like the division between the TCW and the MCW [Temporal Catholic World and Mystical Catholic World], but as a contemplative do you ever feel as though you don't belong to the temporal [or embodied] world? Have you ever had mystical experiences . . . which contribute or tempt to this?. . . Do you know any mystics? Do they experience this division?]]

One note on my dislike for the division you mention. Terms like these are not helpful, and are simply seriously misleading theologically and spiritually if they are played off against each other as mutually exclusive. In the passages I have commented on before this was what was true. Hermits were said, for instance, to need to make a choice between the TCW and the MCW. This was what I objected to.

But regarding your questions. No, as a contemplative I feel that I belong to God, and while that includes very very rare mystical experiences which minimize (or completely obviate) awareness of my body, involve what I presumptuously describe as union with God, etc, I really never feel that I do not belong to the temporal world of space and time or to the world of embodied reality. In fact, contemplative prayer, whether involving experiences sometimes called mystical or not, always seems to root me more firmly in God's good creation despite any experience of being caught up in God's presence and love. It does so in terms of mission or eremitical charism. I come away from prayer renewed in my sense of self, my sense of being called in unique and significant ways, and too, of being sent to serve and contribute to the salvation of a world God has called good and loved with an everlasting love. (Please note the various meanings of the term "world" in various posts, including this one. Here I am speaking about God's good creation, not "world" in the sense a hermit or monastic uses when referring to "contemptus mundi" or "fuga mundi.")

Further, I believe I come to these BECAUSE my union with God is something which has, to whatever degree, become more intense and pervasive. The closer I am to God and to union with God, the closer I am to all which he holds as precious, all that is grounded in him. Most especially, I experience myself as more capable of loving others as they need to be loved, more open to hearing how this is from them, and more eager and generous in responding appropriately and adequately. There is a related need to spend time in solitude processing and celebrating what happened in prayer, but these two dimensions of contemplative life complement one another; even --- maybe even especially --- when we are speaking of mystical experiences involving ecstasy, trances and the like, they absolutely do not need to (and probably should not) ultimately conflict.

Remember that whether we are celebrating Xt's Nativity, his participation in and victory over sin and death marked by crucifixion and by his bodily resurrection on Easter, or the continuing incarnational presence of Christ due to his Ascension, we are celebrating a God who dwells with us and who even takes incarnate reality into himself (Christ remains the embodied Logos even at the Ascension). In all of these cases we are dealing with the mystery of incarnation and it is incarnation which reveals and glorifies God most fully in each of these great moments of salvation history. Experiences which minimize incarnation or stress the eternal at the expense of our temporal and embodied existence (as though they are ever completely separable or wholly in conflict) are, at best, suspect to me. This might be good Platonism, but it is bad "Christianity". In an older terminology, these kinds of approaches to spirituality and prayer are disedifying: they do not build up.

Regarding your questions relating to mysticism: yes, I have had mystical experiences. They are profound experiences which, as already noted, occur relatively infrequently (for about 30 min to 1 hour or so at a time), are usually marked by relatively dramatic physiological changes (sometimes including cessation of breathing, slowing of all functions, with complete attentiveness to the inner experience of God in prayer), and often, imagery of God in Christ who interacts with me in various ways. The initial and overarching experience in these periods was a sense of God's tremendous joy that here I was! In the first experience, for instance, I simply "heard" God say in some way, "I am SO glad you are here. I have been waiting for SUCH a long time for this."

I suppose these experiences qualify as "ecstasy" in the technical sense (a standing out of one's ordinary way of being), but in the more common sense of the term (i.e., incredible joy) these were experiences of God's own ecstasy. I can conclude I myself was overjoyed, but what was compelling, even overwhelming, was the sense of God's great joy simply in being with me like this. For this reason, even this single experience changed my life completely --- my way of seeing myself, my way of seeing others, my way of being in the world, and especially my prayer. The shift marked with regard to prayer was from a kind of self-centeredness to attitudes and approaches which were specifically God-centered. That was true in prayer because I became mainly concerned with it as a way of being there FOR God. I began to approach it as a matter of giving God time with and in me --- no matter whether I was aware of him, felt healed, fed, loved, consoled, challenged, or anything similar. (On another level I KNEW God was effecting all these things in me, but the subjective or affective experience (or its absence) was simply unimportant. In light of this experience, what was critical about praying was that God be allowed access to me (and thus to my world) as much as I could allow through his grace.) This remains one of the most important insights I have had into the nature of prayer and is at the heart of my (or any truly Christian) theology of prayer, etc.

However, I am not a mystic nor do I know any. Most Sisters I know have had such experiences from time to time (we tend to call them touchstone or peak experiences, and sometimes use words like mystical or ecstatic in matter-of-fact, non dramatic ways), but, even if the experiences were frequent or regular, I doubt any of us would consider ourselves mystics. Perhaps, but not without real resistance and the exhaustion of our usual vocabularies! In part I think this hesitancy comes from a recognition that the entire mystical experience is a total gift and we have done nothing to prepare or ready ourselves for such occasions apart from ordinary faithfulness to prayer. Such experiences, by the way, can come even when a person has no real prayer life, or is only beginning to develop one, and are often seen more as God's gracious intervention meant to assist (or give a spiritual kick in the pants) at any moment than they are a sign of an "advanced" prayer life.

In part therefore, hesitancy about labeling ourselves mystics comes from a tendency for the term "mystic" to confuse identity with rare and unusual experiences which may have little to do with reflecting the nature or quality of a person's everyday prayer life and spirituality. I suppose that when I use terms like hermit, contemplative, pray-er, theologian, etc I am identifying goals as much as I am identifying central and defining realities in my life. But mystical experiences are neither of these for me. Significant as they can be, they certainly do not define the majority of my prayer, nor are they a goal. (Greater or complete union with God is a different matter, and is certainly both an immediate and ultimate goal.) Somehow, I can never see myself saying: I want to be a better mystic (what would that even mean???), but I can see myself saying I would like to be a better human being, hermit, pray-er, contemplative, Christian, etc. Hence, identifying oneself or another as a mystic is not something I would ordinarily do except as a way of pointing to one of the many ways God is active in one's life. Thus, if someone asked me about the character of someone's prayer life I MIGHT say, "She's a mystic," to give them a sense of things, but I would not refer to the person as a whole as a mystic.

Mysticism (or "Mystics") and the Temporal World

Again, though, even if I or other Sisters alluded to were mystics (meaning those who had been gifted with mystical prayer from time to time or even frequently) it would not mean we would cease to belong to the temporal or embodied world(s). In the experience I described, returning to a sense of my body, resuming breathing (getting my diaphragm to move again in response to another's urgings), figuring out what to do with my hands (which had been resting in that other's, and which remained suspended even after the other's hands were removed) took an effort, a focus I did not quite have immediately, and a period of "easing back" to something more normal. Evenso, at no time did I "leave" my body (a deep state of rest and attentiveness to God in complete dependence upon His care and sustenance is not the same as death --- which IS defined as the separation of body and soul!), nor was the imagery of the prayer experiences "unembodied". These experiences were, instead, experiences marking both Christ and myself as embodied and related in profound ways. (And remember, even glorified bodies, though not temporal --- that is, not subject to the exigencies of time, are instances of embodied existence.)

Significantly, neither did I ever completely cease to be aware of God's love for others. I knew that everyone was completely cared for even as I felt like I had God's complete and undivided attention and love. This paradox is what Augustine also once wrote about: "God loves each of us as though we were the only ones in the universe." The experiences were wonderful, awesome respites, reminders of the complete sufficiency of God alone and signals of what we are each meant for; they were experiences of the way God loves us each and every one of us at every moment, whether we are aware of it or not (and we are mostly not!), but they were also instances and examples of heaven's interpenetration of this world and so, of the eternal interpenetrating the temporal and bringing it to perfection. As such they empowered, transformed (converted and transfigured), and inspired in an ongoing or continuing way months and even years after they had occurred. Even now, 28 years later, I can touch into that first 40 minute experience and appreciate it in ways which continue to foster growth and sanctification. The experience itself has ceased, but God's continuing dynamic presence has not.

[[I also wanted to ask about today's Gospel. What is it that keeps a hermit, contemplative, or mystic from violating the requirements in today's Gospel? Jesus says you will know a good tree by its fruit, but what is the good fruit which comes from people who are shut away from others, or who are taken up with the "MCW"? I just don't see it!]]

Your last questions are really excellent (and their direction is a bit of a surprise after your first ones!). if you don't mind I will mainly answer from the perspective of contemplative and hermit. As I have written before, and as the Canon governing diocesan eremitical life states explicitly, this life is one lived "for the praise of God and the salvation of the world." Failure in either regard marks one's vocation either as inauthentic or failed. But how is it a life lived mainly in the silence of solitude can do either of these and not be hyper-individualistic, self-centered, or unproductive? What does it mean to bear good fruit in such a vocation?

First, praise of God: God is glorified when his life in us is revealed to (and this means not only making known to, but making real within) the world. Our lives praise God when they evidence essential wholeness, wellness (even if that is in the face of serious physical illness), the capacity for love and compassion, and a fundamental generosity, joy, and gratitude at being alive in and for God. We praise God when we live our most authentic humanity (and this means in all its limitations and fragility) well. For the hermit, the silence of solitude and all it comprises should spill over in these things, whether or not this happens in active ministry, hospitality, writing, occasional contacts with parishioners (including one's prayerful presence at liturgy), or in any other way.

I personally believe a hermit's life should draw people in in some way, encourage them to make some of the values embodied in that life their own --- not because the hermit is particularly different from the rest of the assembly or community, but because she is very much the same, with the same needs, weaknesses, gifts, etc. While the call to be a hermit is rare, it should still be a vocation which does not exclude people. As I have written before, even when I am not around my parish for liturgy, etc, people miss me and are aware of the hermitage in their midst. They KNOW that it serves as a place of prayer, a kind of place of rest and order in what can be a very hectic and godless community. That very fact witnesses to fundamental needs in every life, and calls them to make of their own homes something similar --- within the constraints of their own situations and vocations.

Secondly, the salvation of the world: Salvation has to do with making whole, and in the case of either individuals or the world as a whole, bringing to perfection --- not in some precious esoteric sense, but in the sense of bringing to fullness all the potentials we (or the world) possess(es) in God. It involves making true, purifying of distortions and all that demeans, and overcoming all that alienates in reconciliation and healing. God is the cause here and each of us is responsible for allowing God to be sovereign in our lives in ways which affects others similarly. Sometimes this is made manifest as described above. Spirituality is revealed then as an eminently practical reality --- not something for specialists, but an integral part of every genuinely human life. It is not about making us into angels, but about making us into authentically human beings who incarnate the loving, creative, Word of God in all we are and do. Prayer, in particular, is a form of relating which fosters the goal of all of reality, our own personal reality, DIVINE REALITY, and that of all of God's creation.

This is true whether we directly influence others to pray (in teaching or spiritual direction, for instance), or whether our own lives and prayer serves as a silent and hidden leaven in a world needing this. In other words, to use that old language again, authentic spirituality edifies, authentic prayer and prayer experiences build up and perfect. Prayer is most fully real in our lives when we allow the Holy Spirit to act within and through us not only for ourselves, but more primarily for God, for the whole of humanity, the creation we are called to steward, and indeed, the whole of the cosmos. Authentic hermits, contemplatives and mystics all must be aware of and committed to this attitude. When it is absent or when the fruits of prayer (love, compassion, peace, joy, and gratitude) are absent or superficial, then one can question the authenticity of the characterization (hermit, contemplative, mystic, etc).

I hope this is of some help. If it raises further questions or requires clarification, please get back to me. Please also check some of the other blog entries on eremitical life as one of love and service. These may do a better job of answering the questions you posed about eremitical life per se.