On Sharing Experiences of Mystical Prayer

[[Sister, is it common for hermits to have mystical prayer experiences? I read about one of these that you wrote about but I couldn't find others. I have had a couple of very intense and amazing prayer experiences, but I am finding it hard to share these with others! Is that why you don't write about these very much or do you not have them?]]

I don't know how common mystical prayer experiences are among hermits. Still, given the fact that hermits are contemplatives and contemplatives pray regularly, intensely, and even in a relatively pervasive way where every activity is marked by openness, attentiveness, and responsiveness to God, I would expect to see mystical prayer experiences with some regularity. This regularity is not the same as frequency, though. Because I accept that mysticism is a function of openness and attentiveness to Divine Mystery (the source of the term mystical), I also believe that those who pray regularly and seriously will have mystical experiences, though they may well be few and far between. As I understand matters, authentic mystical prayer experiences are a part or subset of contemplative prayer and associated experiences. This means that ordinarily, they come only with consistent and persistent practice, and even then, they are gratuitous --- a free gift of Godself.

I don't speak much about mystical prayer experiences because these are, 1) a very personal and intimate part of my life, 2) a gift of God who chooses to come to me in this way in specific circumstances, and 3) these are only helpful to share in limited situations. I also 4) never want to give the impression that God has created me differently from others or that God loves me more or even particularly differently than God loves others. For this reason, I cannot accept that some people are born mystics or that they have mystical experiences because God loves them in a vastly different way than he loves everyone else. Thus, I believe that God wills to give himself to every person in this way and that one needs to develop one's openness, attentiveness, and responsiveness to God in the persevering practices of prayer and penance. This also means that I believe God's truly remarkable gifts must be matched by patience, authentic humility, and discretion.

Your questions about my not speaking about mystical experiences point directly to the demand for humility and discretion.  I believe without these two qualities in particular, speaking about such experiences can morph into bragging, arrogance, and the subtle or not-so-subtle denigration of "ordinary" spirituality and "ordinary" prayer experiences or those who have not had and may not believe they are meant to have such experiences. In some people, these kinds of experiences are reported with what seems to approach a sense of entitlement! I say this because the sense of awe for such experiences, if it ever truly existed, slips away. At least it is not expressed when these experiences are spoken of by some. What comes across, unfortunately, is a privileged mindset where the entirely gratuitous ways God comes to any human person are rendered either routine or elitist.

One of the greatest gifts God gave me years ago, is the sense that I am the same as everyone else. At the same time, and paradoxically, this does not conflict with personal limitations or giftedness; instead, it contextualizes these and provides a perspective from which I can regard and either deal with or, perhaps, use them for the sake of others. This awareness of my sameness, along with my sense that it is a real grace of God, colors both my systematic and mystical theologies. It helps me to appreciate what God wills for every person; it also sensitizes me to those persons whose "prayer" experiences are (purportedly at least) always larger than life and peopled with characters and events drawn from dated hagiographies that in significant respects, and for entirely valid reasons, are less than edifying today. 

In other words, we can't blame an "increasingly secular" culture for the fact that these accounts strike others as irrelevant at best and destructive of genuine faith or even pathological at worst. Rather than being a reverent reminiscence of an intimate encounter with God that is usually most properly discussed with one's spiritual director, a very good friend, or one's confessor, this sometimes-seen practice of announcing one's mystical experiences far and wide reminds me more of a carnival barker calling attention to circus acts. Such "barking" can cause even the most genuine of experiences to seem "inauthentic" and be off-putting. In the case of mystical prayer experiences, less is definitely more. Thus, though you have certainly not described anything excessive in your own situation, I would still encourage you not to share these experiences with just anyone and everyone, tempting though that will sometimes be; when the right person, place, and time comes to share, you will recognize it. Just remember, patience, humility, and discretion!! This is the way we truly praise God and thank him for loving us so well.

Follow Up on Hermits, Contemplatives and Mystics?

[[Sister Laurel, can you provide a link to the person whose blog was being referred to in the post on Hermits: Contemplatives and Mystics? I would like to check out what he says for myself. Thank you for that. I have done a lot of reading about mysticism and mystics and my understanding tends to comport with yours, that is, we are all created for and called to union with God and at the same time only God can take hold of us in the way that happens in what St Teresa of Avila calls infused contemplation, but especially mystical betrothal, and mystical marriage for example. I don't know what it would mean to say a mystic is born but if that's true, either one is born a mystic, or one can't ever become one [and mystical prayer would be closed to one for the whole of one's life] **. I don't think John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, St Francis of Assisi, Angela of Foligno, or Therese of Lisieux were born mystics but no one suggests they did not become mystics even if God was the one who made it happen!]]

Yes, I will get the link for you --- at least to the blog itself if not to specific posts being referenced.

I also agree that mystics aren't born but in fact are "made" (by God, of course) --- though again, I believe every person created by God has the potential for mystical prayer. One passage in David Knowles' book, What is Mysticism? makes me chuckle because by using St Teresa's encouragement of her Sisters to persist in their efforts to reach what is sometimes called the prayer of recollection, (she says it will only take a year, maybe six months), Knowles underscores the place of growth in prayer in the "mystical path", and by implication in contemplative prayer and then mystical prayer. 

He explains, [[The assertion of Teresa that it can be acquired must not be taken to mean that, like bicycling or swimming, it merely needs a short instruction and some practice. St Teresa may have misled some by her somewhat offhand empirical assertion that it can be acquired in a year or six months. We may forget that she herself spent fifteen years when prayer was tedious to her and that she has already described at length the first stage of prayer, its difficulties and distractions, the need for serious resolve and the absolute sacrifice of all else save God.]] and then Knowles continues, [[ It is only when the prayer of recollection has become settled and pure, maintained through aridities and distractions for long, that it can be regarded as in any sense a disposition for infused contemplation.]] (emphasis added)

When Teresa speaks of the deeper forms of prayer moving from recollection and beginning with the prayer of quiet, Knowles indicates how very different her language is: [[This prayer [she writes] is something supernatural to which no effort of our own can raise us, because here the soul rests in peace --- or rather, our Lord gives it peace by his presence.]] Another example from Teresa, [[We cannot make the day break, nor can we stop the night from coming on. This prayer is no work of ours: it is supernatural and utterly beyond our control.]] Of course, we cannot cause infused contemplation or mystical prayer; again, they are the work of God, but we can dispose ourselves toward this gift, or rather, these gifts. One can hardly do that if one is either born a mystic or not, period. On the one hand (if one is born a mystic) all the hard work of prayer and growth in the virtues is irrelevant and on the other (if one is not born a mystic) it all becomes essentially futile even as a way of disposing the soul to God's immediate intervention.

Throughout his work David Knowles refers to the "Mystic path" or to "mystical prayer" (Op Cit., p.81, apparently not a nonsensical or [[insensible]] word at all) and he speaks of a process during which prayer becomes [[gradually less and less a matter of words or motions of the will and more and more simple loving attention to God, until this too merges into a new realization or experience of the presence of God in the soul, with its accompaniment of a new knowledge and love of God which do not come from any purely human thought or motion. Herein is the beginning of the mystical life.]] (emphasis added) And then Knowles cites Teresa again, [[ Herein there is nothing to be afraid of, but everything to hope for]]. . .[[prayer is the door to those great graces which our Lord bestowed on me. If this door be shut, I do not see how he can bestow them.]] and again, [[How must one begin? I maintain that this is the chief point; in fact, that everything depends on their having a great and most resolute determination never to halt until they reach their journey's end, happen what may, whatever the consequences are, cost what it will, let who will blame them, whether they reach the goal or die on the road, or lose heart to bear the trials they encounter, or the earth itself goes to pieces beneath their feet.]] (emphasis added throughout)

In all of this and so much more we are dealing with the paradox that the mystic way or the way of mystical prayer, which means the way of a mystic, in fact requires effort and often long effort in prayer or "friendship with God" even as mystical prayer itself is the complete and immediate gift of God himself. Words failed Teresa and she worked out terms for various prayer forms over time (though she still wrote marvelously about all of this), just as words failed John of the Cross (it is hard to think of his Spiritual Canticle as a failure of words but it is!!) because of both the incommensurability of the experience and the ineffability of God. Still, they also succeeded so that even when Teresa takes pains to indicate something is not supernatural (or infused or mystical) prayer, there is the implication that there are forms of prayer which are these things!! I guess I understand mystics as those who are gifted by God with mystical prayer (i.e., an immediate experience of God's presence and union with God). As far as I can tell, no scholar of mystical theology and no mystic, especially Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, but I think also Elizabeth of the Trinity who I am reading now, believes one is born a mystic, though of course, they would all affirm we are created for union with God.  

Here is a link to the latest post in the blog referenced in the earlier question and post: Mystics are born Mystics. Please note that the author (MC) recommends David Knowles' book as a good place to start!! For that reason I referred to him above. Unfortunately, though I have read this book at least a couple of times, I can't remember or (now) locate even one place where he argues mystics are born not made, particularly as this position is opposed to the rest of what is cited above. Perhaps someone knowledgeable re where this is found might provide the citation. Knowles' book itself, by the way, is described on the cover (or dust jacket) as [[set(ting) out, in a very short compass and with remarkable lucidity, the traditional explanation of the mystical life as the fullness of the life of grace. Prof Knowles illustrates the mystical (or contemplative) life from the great English mystics of the Middle Ages. . . [to] Elizabeth of the Trinity in the present century.]] This surely says the mystical and the contemplative life are of a piece, no? 

Another necessary piece of this discussion which I have not seen in MC's blogs (unless she is writing about c 603, which is of primary interest or concern to me, I tend not to read her much so I could well have missed this) --- but what I have not seen even in the most recent posts arguing her position here is an actual definition of the term mystic. It is important to understand, I think, how she is using the term (besides calling it an "affliction like Autism or Cerebral palsy" which causes mystics to "pray to be normal"). If a mystic is born, then what constitutes a mystic? Is it the secondary or accidental qualities of visions, locutions, stigmata, levitation, and the like or is it, as all mystics seem to say, the result of union with God (i.e., the fulfillment of a life of grace) which requires a long apprenticeship in prayer? Just one more piece of the puzzle I would like clarified myself by MC or others who disagree with what I have written.

** thanks to the questioner for sending on the clarification added to the question above. I agree it is helpful.

Hermits, Contemplatives and Mystics?

[[ Sister Laurel, are all hermits mystics? Are they all contemplatives? Is there room in the Catholic Church for mystics? I was reading a blog by a Catholic hermit who says anyone can be a contemplative but one is born a mystic. I just wondered about that because in some older posts you seemed to reject being a mystic and prefer the term contemplative. Do you still feel that way? I also wondered what it means to be born a mystic and if parishes would be upset by a mystic whom they thought could see into people and I think I would be turned off by that, even scared by it. One person writing about all of this suggests that the Church doesn't really have space for mystics and calls mysticism "an affliction like cerebral palsy or autism. . ." ]] (links deleted)

First, I can't conceive of a hermit who is not a contemplative and becoming more and more a contemplative every day. It is part of the very definition of the word hermit as far as I understand eremitical life. Some hermits will, therefore, also be mystics, meaning not merely that they have been immediately gifted by God with mystical prayer and therefore, will have grown in their contemplative lives to the deeper or infused forms of contemplative prayer; it also means they will have had their hearts remade entirely in terms of the virtues and God's love; a mystic is the dwelling place or tabernacle of the active and creative Mystery or depth dimension of all reality whom we call God; they live in greater or lesser degrees of union with God. Such union with absolute Mystery which only God can bring about is evident in their prayer but also in their ordinary lives, and so we call them mystics. While such persons may suffer as all human beings suffer, and sometimes quite intensely in their currently unrealizable yearning for final or ultimate union with God, I don't think any mystic would liken coming to greater degrees of union with God --- the very thing we are made for and come to joyful rest in --- to an affliction like cerebral palsy or autism.

We are all capable of becoming mystics -- even though God alone empowers the deeper expressions of contemplative prayer. It's quite a paradox!!! In fact, as just noted we are all "made for" this degree of prayer and life in union with God who is, again, absolute Mystery --- though few will experience it in their lives. In the Eastern Church the process of growth toward mystical prayer and union with God referred to here is called deification. Few "achieve" it this side of death, unfortunately, but all are made for it. To that extent I believe we can say we are all born to be mystics (those who experience union with God that is wholly God's immediate gift), but I don't think it is appropriate to say some are born mystics and others are not. Moreover, simply because one has occasional mystical experiences I believe the use of the term mystic is still to be cautiously applied. Mystics are not primarily about mystical experiences or phenomena like visions, locutions, and the like; they are first and last about union with God and that means these persons are shot through with Divine love and are transparent to it in a way which, in Christ, makes them into the very imago Dei they were made to be --- whether they are in prayer or living their ordinary lives. If one can say a person's life is defined by (i.e., conformed to and transformed by) immediate experiences of the Love which is God's very self, then I think we can say the person is a mystic, no matter the attendant and secondary phenomena.

Personally, I still prefer the term contemplative, in part because it is easier for folks to understand, but also because I am a contemplative who has occasional mystical experiences (that is, immediate experiences of the God Who is Love) as a kind of subset of this larger category of prayer; Moreover, I look towards union with God as a goal I am called to by God himself, not as a kind of achievement I want or need to point to. I don't think most parishes would have a problem with someone having occasional mystical experiences during liturgy, for instance, so long as the community understands what is happening. Ordinarily, the person praying in this way is profoundly quiet; this may even mean that one's breathing might cease or become indiscernible. Thus, unless one has explained the situation to others they might be concerned about a medical emergency, but if the situation was occasional and understood I don't see where it would be a problem. 

Other manifestations need not, but might well be or become problematical, and that would include the ability to read others' hearts. While one might have this ability, one does not need to reveal it to people, and prudence says ordinarily one should not do so apart from a strong pastoral need and authority. My sense is that God would only gift someone with such an ability in instances of exceptional need, along with the capacity for profound compassion, humility, and discretion, not to mention more than a modicum of tact. Ordinarily, this gift is associated with confessors who read into the heart or conscience and assisted the person in moving toward greater union with God. Outside of anecdotes about a number of priests I am not sure I know precisely all this gift entails, but I do know people who are profoundly perceptive about people and seem to miss nothing of what is going on with them. One of these is marked by her compassion and discretion as well and this may mean she can see into others' hearts in ways most of us cannot. When the two qualities are combined there is nothing scary about it --- though it can be unnerving initially until it is clear the person never judges others and does not otherwise misuse what they see/know. Still, perhaps this is only a weak approximation of the gift some confessors have been known to have.

Does the Church have room for mystics? Of course! In fact, she needs them and has always done --- even when their presence has been challenging or hard to deal with. But I think she has even less tolerance for those who are not genuine mystics, meaning those who might want to be recognized for "gifts" without being deeply prayerful, profoundly loving, and practiced in the virtues. In other words, mystics have a certain degree of holiness and that can be/is inspiring to others in ways we all need. What we don't need, however, are those who drop into what is supposed to be ecstasy-on-schedule or trance-via-trigger (I am thinking self-hypnosis here), or those who pretend to have been given the gift of reading others' hearts while demonstrating not the least bit of compassion for those others or true insight into themselves. 

Once again, as I have written before, "by their fruits, you shall know them"; the primary measure of the true mystic will always be their capacity to love as Christ loves, to be virtuous as Christ is virtuous, to be imago Dei or imago Christi as every person is ultimately called to be ("I, yet not I, but Christ in me!" is one of Paul's ways of describing himself as Christian and mystic who has experienced a degree of union with God). Only secondarily is such a person's life/prayer marked by mystical phenomena and I sincerely believe it is unlikely in the ordinary course of things, that such phenomena would be known to a larger parish congregation.

On Prayer: Visions and Locutions?

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I wondered if it is unusual to have visions and locutions during prayer. Do these happen to you or to people you direct? Some people believe these kinds of experiences mean the one experiencing them is a mystic and exceptionally loved by God. Do only contemplatives have these kinds of experiences? I wondered if maybe I might have such experiences and I am not a contemplative.]]

Thanks for your questions. I need to parse the meaning of words like "unusual", vision, and locution to answer you. Visions ordinarily mean that God comes to one in a visual way, within one's own mind and often using the contents of one's own mind to "furnish" the vision. They are not ordinarily external to us as though we are looking at a scene standing entirely outside ourselves; at the same time they transcend us and do not find their source in us but in God. Locutions ordinarily mean that God comes to us in an audible way, though again within our minds. Such locutions tend to be fairly brief, a single sentence, couplet, or a couple/few words only. I have not had nor have I heard from people I know who have experienced long soliloquies or speeches, and personally, I tend to distrust accounts of such long-winded experiences as being truly of God.

Not everyone has such experiences and that makes them relatively unusual. They also tend to be vivid and memorable -- although I tend to write mine down (journal) immediately so I may return to them and pay greater attention to aspects I missed or may forget when recounting them -- say, for my director, for instance. This makes them stand out from the rest of my prayer so in that sense they are also unusual. Finally, they are occasional, not frequent because they are so rich and require time to be processed and appreciated; in this sense too they are unusual. `If, however, you mean do they indicate something unusual (aberrant) in the person's prayer life, that the person's prayer life is extraordinary or exceptional except in the ways I have already indicated, I would say no; they are a significant part of a serious prayer life, but one doesn't need to be some sort of spiritual savant to have such occasional or fairly infrequent experiences.

It once was thought that contemplative prayer itself was only open to a privileged few and that experiences like those you ask about were open to only a very few among those. Today we know that anyone with sufficient leisure and commitment can learn to pray and live contemplatively, and we encourage folks to learn to do so. Spiritual direction can be helpful here and is a ministry open to anyone desiring to take advantage of it. Similarly, visions and locutions as I have described them can be accessible to anyone who prays regularly, reads Scripture, and takes time to do lectio daily, or at least regularly. (These practices shape our minds and hearts  and prepare us for the kinds of experiences we are talking about. Such experiences, when they are genuine, are manifestations of God but ordinarily the ground needs to be prepared for this. I do not believe God loves those who have such experiences more than God loves any other person; we are all exceptionally even infinitely loved by God and thus, we all have the potential for such experiences of God's love.)

As noted regarding my own experiences, yes I have such. They are not necessarily frequent but they do tend to be pivotal and serve as moments of profound healing/reconciliation, sources of understanding and strength, and always they convey a sense of promise regarding my own life with God in Christ and often the life of others and our world more generally. I don't think they are more important than the rest of my prayer (in some ways they are less!) but they tend to function as significant markers along the way of that prayer. And regarding the possibility that you might have such experiences, please know that in prayer we ordinarily don't focus on or look for experiences. I know it is easy to desire such experiences; it can be problematical to expect such experiences and is certainly healthier spiritually if we approach prayer as God's work/active presence within us which we ordinarily do not immediately sense at all. God transcends what we can experience so we need to be cautious in regard to such things. I can only encourage you to pray regularly and give God time and space in your life to do whatever God wills to do. If you can do this and gradually become a contemplative, you might well occasionally experience God in these less usual ways. Paradoxically, because they are associated with humility and love (both our own and God's), they may happen when you are least concerned with them. I hope this is helpful.

Abba Motius: Humility is to See Ourselves to Be the Same as the Rest

[[Dear Sister, you once wrote: [[What I am trying to say is there is a vast difference between fitting in because in one's basic Christianity one knows on a deep level how very like every other person one is, and therefore, truly belonging in any circumstance or set of circumstances, and trying to "blend in." The first is motivated by humility and carried along by one's genuine love of others. The second is too self-conscious and seems to me to not be motivated by humility or an honest love of others. Abba Motius of the Desert Fathers says it this way, "For this is humility: to see yourself to be the same as the rest." ]] If a person has certain gifts which make her stand apart from others is it really possible for her to affirm that "she is the same as all the rest"? If humility is a form of loving honesty as you have also written here, then is it honest or humble to deny the gifts which make one different from others? How does a person come to this kind of humility without denying their gifts? Is this another one of those Christian paradoxes you are so fond of?? Is it important to the kind of hermit you are?]]

Your question is amazingly timely because I have been thinking a lot this entire week about the gift of God which this conviction of how profoundly like others I really am truly is. In my own prayer life and in those experiences I might call "mystical," two gifts in particular have made all the difference in my ability to love and to be a person of genuine hope. The first has to do with a sense that the human heart is that place within us where God always bears witness to Godself, where God reveals Godself moment by moment as ever new and the source of a dynamic newness (and eternity) in us in a way which always transcends and is deeper than any woundedness or personal deficiency by which we might also be marked or marred. When there have been times I felt I could not face another day, when I had the sense that my own brokenness was too profound to be reached by the love of others or to allow me to love them, this sense that God was there within me 1) constituting a part of my very  existence which is deeper than any woundedess and 2) calling my name in an unceasing way that created genuine hope for a future both including and transcending all this, was really salvific for me.

The second gift which is related to this same prayer experience and which has been similarly transformative and lifegiving has been this sense that essentially I am "the same as all the rest of us." There was no striking direct revelation, no "locution" saying, "You are the same as everyone else!" or anything like that which convinced me of this. Instead it was the result of my reflection on the prayer experience I have spoken of here several times now where God was completely delighted to be able to "finally be here with [me] like this" and where I had the sense of having his entire attention.

What was pivotal here was the clear sense I had that 1) my own woundedness was no obstacle to God's delight, 2) that everyone delighted God in precisely this same way and 3) that everyone and everything else had God's entire attention just as I did. For me this became tremendously healing because it meant I was no longer burdened with the mistaken and personally crippling notion that my personal differences set me apart or isolated me from others in ways none of us could really ever overcome. It was this too that, at another point, allowed me to turn the corner on a solitary life rooted in isolation and unhealthy withdrawal and instead embrace one of authentic eremitical solitude and freedom.

For several significant reasons I came into early adulthood feeling that there were differences between myself and others which could never be bridged, much less healed or otherwise obviated. It was not merely that I was gifted in ways others might not have been (though there was some of that too) but instead that I came to realize that on some deep level I had the sense that my very humanity was wounded and changed in a way which could never allow me to truly love or be loved by others. It was as though I had been made different from others on a level that could never be healed or transfigured. While I actually got on well with others, was well-liked (even loved!), did well in studies and ministry, was (rightly) convinced I was called to serve God as a religious, etc, this profound sense of woundedness and "differentness" was a burden which sometimes made every step feel weighted with real sadness and despair --- even when most times that took the form of a kind of resignation and quiet grief or desperation. Whether due to personal giftedness, or deficiencies and woundedness, deep down I had the sense I could never truly embrace the Desert Father Motius' notion that I was the same as everyone else; thus, I also had the sense that authentic humanity, as well as loving and being loved was really forever beyond me.

And then, along with several other ongoing and supportive experiences of love and care by others, came the prayer experience I have briefly related here several times. It is because of that experience and my own reflection on that and similar but less seminal experiences over the next years that I am able to answer your questions with an assurance even a good theological background specializing in the theology of the cross (which is also VERY important here) might never have have allowed. Here then are those answers (so thanks for your patience). First of all you ask: [[If a person has certain gifts which make her stand apart from others is it really possible for her to affirm that "she is the same as all the rest"? If humility is a form of loving honesty as you have also written here, then is it honest or humble to deny the gifts which make one different from others?]]

In the first instance my answer is, yes, provided such a person knows who she is in God, and who others are in God as well. One must come to know oneself on this ultimately deep level, and she must come to know that all other persons --- no matter how different in talents, physical and intellectual abilities, family and psychosocial background, genetic makeup, health, etc, ---  are similarly grounded, similarly constituted, similarly called and loved in and by God. The word existence means to stand up out of (ex-istere); we stand up out of God who is the ground of being and meaning. That means that to some extent we are separate from one another in the very fact of our historical existence. However, it also means at a deeper (ultimate) level we are united with one another and all else that is.

In a way all I am saying here is we each share the very same humanity and all the gifts or deficiencies in the world cannot, will not, ever change that. To see reality in this way, to see creation as monastics tell us is the way of REALLY seeing, to see, that is, as GOD SEES is the basis of all of our security, our hope, and our ability to hold and carry both gifts and deficiencies lightly; this means we hold them in ways which do not isolate us from our brothers and sisters. My answer to your second question is that nothing need be denied in us or in others when we see ourselves and others this way. Yes, there will be differences, some of them pretty profound, but none so profound as the similarity and unity we share in God.

You also asked:  [[How does a person come to this kind of humility without denying their gifts? Is this another one of those Christian paradoxes you are so fond of?? Is it important to the kind of hermit you are?]] LOL! Yes, I guess this absolutely is one of those Christian paradoxes I am so delighted by and so very fond of. In fact, it is the very definition of paradox where apparent conflicts are allowed to stand because of a deeper unity in which resolution and even reconciliation is truly found.

I am not sure I can say much more about how a person comes to this humility. Certainly it is a grace. However, the things in my own life which allowed it include: 1) prayer in which I am loved (and allowed to love) beyond those things which make me either gifted or wounded and deficient in historico-temporal ways, 2) the Gospel of Christ which proclaims in fact that nothing can separate us from the love of God and so, reminds us that there is a deeper sustaining dynamism that is a constantly renewing source of life for us, 3) a faith which allows me to risk changing my mind and heart to embrace these realities and live from them, and 4) all of those people who mentored, taught, directed, pastored, treated, formed, supervised, or were friends to me out of their own faith in this transcendent reality and a belief in the person I most truly was and could be in light of it.

And regarding your final question, in one way and another everything I have written about eremitical life or the spiritual life here on this blog, every article I have published in Review for Religious, and so on, reflects the importance of all of these things for being the kind of hermit I am (not to mention the kinds of hermits I expect others to be as well)! I know first hand what it means to try and use canon 603 or eremitical life more generally to try to merely validate brokenness and isolation, but I also know what it means to live an authentic eremitical life in which these are redeemed and transformed into the silence of solitude and in which canon 603 is allowed to function as the Church really desired and needs it to function.

The same is true of contem-plative and/or mystical prayer. Certainly there are those who use pseudo mystical experiences to exacerbate their isolation and underscore their differentness from others. This is one of the problems which occurs when we focus on the "sensible furnishings" of the experience and fail to transcend these so that the real Wisdom of these experiences can take hold of us, shake us at our very foundations (Tillich), and remake us in mind, heart, and will.

Here is one of the places the work of Ruth Burrows I cited recently is so very important. (cf., On Pentecost, Ruth Burrows, OCD and the Real Experience in Mystical Prayer.) The same is also true of our true and false selves, where the true self is the "spontaneity" (Merton) or Event which is realized whenever the Spirit is allowed to grasp, shake, and transform (make true or verify) us entirely. Again, there is probably very little I have written about here and nothing of real significance that does not in some way owe its very existence to this "paradox" which is the key to understanding my experience in prayer and stands at the heart of all (but especially Christian) existence.  Certainly  there is nothing authentic in the kind of hermit I am which is not similarly indebted. Even something like the essential hiddenness of this vocation is illuminated by this paradox: cf  A Vocation to Extraordinary Ordinariness.

I am very grateful for your question. I don't know what made you look up that old post citing Abba Motius, Should Christians Try to Blend In? but that you did so this week and actually wrote me about it is a terrific gift. Thank you.

Followup Questions on the Intimacy of Prayer and the Responsibility to Share the Fruit of One's Contemplative Experience



[[Dear Sister Laurel, are you saying that one must share the most intimate details of one's prayer with others? I think of prayer as very intimate. I don't think I must go into the details with the entire Church.]]

Thanks! Good question. No, I don't mean this. However, I do expect a lot of the details to be shared with one's spiritual director so the entire experience and all its implications can be discussed and submitted to a mutual process of discernment in which the emotional and sensible content (to whatever extent this exists) can be transformed into deeper personal understanding and genuinely ecclesial wisdom.

Even here the director's work is mainly to allow and assist the directee to reflect on the experience, to open her to letting it continue to live in her, and therefore to help her to live from it and draw conclusions about it to the extent it is authentic; it is not the job of the director necessarily to simply pronounce of the authenticity of the experience. Instead she works to enable the kind of patience, openness, and generosity that will allow such experiences to become sources of real wisdom. With you I completely agree that what happens in prayer is one of the most intimate experiences a person may have --- more intimate I would argue than sexual intercourse even (potentially the most intimate experience human beings usually know apart from prayer). I believe that sharing the details with people is something that will happen rarely and carefully. Here is one of the places where casting pearls before swine is a real concern, not because people are swine of course, but because they really may have no true sense just how holy and precious this piece of one's life actually is which can lead to "trampling it underfoot". Besides, there are simply some things we "hold close" and only share with those we know will understand from "inside" the experience.

Still, some degree of sharing is important, not because one wants folks to believe their prayer experiences are "special" or "beyond what others experience" (at best one is naive if one believes this), but because they can become a true source of wisdom when one reflects on them in this way. In my own posts on this blog, and in fact, in a reflection I did for my parish several years ago, I have referred to one really significant prayer experience several times. I have done that for several reasons: 1) because it is a living reality, not a static memory, which I touch back into regularly so that I may hear more profoundly that which I heard less so earlier; 2) so that new dimensions of revelation and understanding may be opened to me since God has not stopped speaking to me via this 30 year old prayer experience; 3) so that I can illustrate for others how it is we fulfill the definition of "experience" which Ruth Burrows rightly insists on --- especially the patience and generosity she refers to, and 4) so that it becomes clear that as private and intimate as an experience is, extraordinary (and those we mistakenly think are not so extraordinary) experiences of prayer are a gift to the whole community.

To open such an experience to others is also to help short circuit any tendency to elitism or mere eccentricity while making sure the real prayer experience is the ecclesial reality it is meant to be. Everyone in the Church should be encouraged to reflect in a general way on the prayer experiences not only of their own lives, but those of others that may differ. This encourages an openness to allowing God to work in one's own life in ways one may never have entertained before, not least because one thought it was only open to "specialists" or religious, for instance. It is also helpful and perhaps natural to any life in which prayer is truly central -- whether that be the life of a mom with children, of a businessman negotiating the complexities of a contemplative approach to his difficult professional environment, a hermit in her hermitage, or the Church as a whole. While the immediate experience I spoke of earlier was my own, beginning with my work with my director, that can --- and, I believe, ought to --- become a source of communal reflection and discernment which eventually leads to real wisdom for the whole Church but certainly for the contemplative's local Church. After all it is a witness to the way the Holy Spirit is working in the midst of the community --- and the way She DESIRES to work in every life therein even if the sensible "furnishings" of the experiences involved differ from person to person.

Let me reiterate a bit and clarify what I am saying here. I do not mean to say that the larger church will ever know of the details of my own prayer experience(s) themselves; those may be known only to my director or to a small and select group of friends. To the degree communicating the ineffable is even possible this could even occur in a group spiritual direction or parish prayer-group setting, for instance. At the same time, as I write this, I am clearer than ever that even these yet-unshared details could eventually be shared more largely to the extent they reveal the ineffable more than they obscure it, and to the extent it is truly reverent and prudent to do so. What remains true is that in any case the more general dynamics of my experience and the way these call me to grow in holiness --- the way this experience shapes an eremitical spirituality, the way I grow in understanding as I continue to tap into it, the wisdom it has for the faith community at large, what it teaches about the nature and place of (contemplative) prayer in every person's life and the life of the Church herself, what it says about the love and mercy of God and the way God truly delights in each of us, how it changed and continues to change me as a person, etc., --- are all matters that should be grist for greater ecclesial sharing and reflection.

For me personally this is another dimension of the silence of solitude being a communal or dialogical reality. It is part of being a representative of a living eremitical tradition. While the hermitage allows me an essentially hidden life geared to meeting God alone, and while my prayer is deeply intimate and private, the hermitage is also a quasi public as well as a formally and essentially ecclesial reality. It exists in the name of the Church and the life within it (in particular the prayer, penance, lectio, and study that so informs it) is a gift to that same Church especially to the extent she is a praying Church!

I suspect that this is another of those reasons we find hermits negotiating the tensions between their hidden lives and their public (ecclesial) roles through writing more often than not. Of course it is also true that contemplative prayer needs the checks and balances of a praying community with a long history of saints and genuine contemplatives and mystics if we are to avoid the problems associated with false and merely narcissistic "mystical" experiences, but generally the reason the contemplative takes part in the Church's own conversation in these matters is because she prays as part of the praying church and contributes to its life and wisdom in doing so. While sharing and reflecting together on experiences may lead to the discernment that some of these are inauthentic and disedifying, the more important reason for doing so is to allow those that are authentic to truly BE edifying to the whole faith community. This, I believe, is part of the responsibility of sharing in God's gift of contemplation.

Once Again: On Infused Contemplation, Union With God, and Elitism

[[Dear Sister, if God can gift any person with infused contem-plation despite the obstacles they present, then why doesn't he? Have you experienced the gift of infused contemplation? Isn't it a special gift and sign of God's love given to only a few?]]

The first question is unanswerable. I don't know why God does what God does, why sometimes a gift is obviously prudent or necessary and other times it is not. Presumably one is not always ready for love in such a form. Some theologians reject the notion of infused contemplation because it strikes them as interventionist or elitist. Rahner does this and suggests that these experiences affirm merely that some people are more able to cooperate with God, perhaps have become more skilled in this, etc. However, I disagree with Rahner in this because yes, I have experienced "infused contemplation" --- something that seemed like the flooding of my heart, mind, and soul from within with the presence of God. It was a gift which had nothing to do with my skill or supposed "advancement" at prayer or my spiritual readiness for this gift. In fact, I have always had the sense that God gifted me in this way as an amazing (and amazingly gentle yet powerful) "kick in the pants" precisely to signal what I was ultimately meant for and to remind me that prayer is ALWAYS what God does within us, not something we manage on our own.

My experience had several dimensions to it but it began with my inability to pray or to cease "trying too hard". To assist with this my director asked me to rest my hands in her outstretched hands and then to pray as I always did. I did this, took a couple of centering breaths and God did the rest! Prescinding from the imagery involved it centered on two insights or divine affirmations:  1) that God was absolutely delighted that I was "finally" here with him in this way and had "waited" for a very long time for this (and that this had nothing to do with my own age). I had the sense in all of this that I had God's ENTIRE attention and was completely sustained by him and this was exactly what I was called to. (This last part was literally true since during the prayer (a period of @ 45 minutes or so) I ceased breathing for some time, and others had to be sure I was okay while not interfering with the prayer itself. (My director eventually told me to breath at one point, and, with some initial difficulty, I did. Otherwise she and I simply trusted to God and let things happen as he willed.) 2) At the same time I had the sense that God loved and was caring for EVERY PERSON in exactly the same way. It was an amazing and paradoxical experience and neither element (the specialness nor the universality of God's love) was less important or true than the other.


In the 30 years since that experience I have had  others which were similar but also were far less dramatic. What I have learned is that union with God is not necessarily characterized by such experiences; in fact, such experiences are not strictly necessary any more than orgasmic experiences are strictly necessary to or characteristic of  married love generally. Granted, I apparently needed this particular experience at that point in my life to teach me a fundamental truth about God's love for me and for all others, as well as to remind me of the fact that prayer is NOT my doing. Even more, it taught me that prayer is meant for God's delight more than it is for my own. I needed these lessons on a level theological work itself doesn't usually allow, but I have not really needed others like it to experience communion with God or a felt sense of God's presence.  I also learned that such experiences need have nothing to do with being in some "advanced state" of prayer (though I do agree with Rahner that once we learn to open and entrust ourselves to God and do so regularly, it is easier for him to give himself to us in this way). Such experiences are indeed a gift, freely given by God because he loves us and desires we know that in ways which will sustain us and allow us to live authentically with a foundational security and hope which is edifying and even inspiring to others.

I learned at least one other lesson from this experience and my reflection on it which I will mention here (for indeed, I return to it fairly regularly to renew not only my gratitude to God for his gift of self to me, but to allow it to speak more fully to me). Namely, God dwells within us, actively calling, loving, sustaining and waiting for us to open our hearts to him. He is never absent and our smallest choice of life is a choice we make WITH and FOR him. Union with God is the very essence of humanity. We are not human alone. At the same time that union can be experienced in many different ways so it is important not to associate it necessarily with ecstasies, etc. Some of my most profound experiences of union with God have involved moments when a bit of theology becomes clear, a client achieves a significant step of growth, or I sit quietly with God and a cup of fragrant hot tea and am at peace and grateful for who and where I am. At those times and many others I have a renewed sense of God's delight and joy that we are FINALLY together in all of this, that he is mine and I am his.

I sincerely believe these significant experiences of union/communion are open to everyone on this side of the eschatological divide. But of course, those of us who have experienced them cannot teach that they are meant for an elite few if we really want that to be true. And here is where one other central lesson of my own life of prayer becomes critical: whose experience do we focus on in prayer? Is it our own or is it God's? Better said, perhaps, do we stop with our own delight, joy, peace, and draw theological conclusions from those, or do we open ourselves to and consider what our prayer means for God?

If we do the latter, then we will be very clear that he desires us to help open EVERY person to this kind of experience, and to do so now rather than waiting for the eschaton and/or the parousia. NO authentic experience of union/communion I have ever had supports elitism. None of them suggests such experiences are open to only a privileged few or are even necessarily a sign of "spiritual advancement" --- whatever that really means anyway. The experiences are ineffably special, no doubt about it, and they witness to how very special I am to God but none of them have excluded that second element I mentioned at the beginning of this post, namely, the sense that God loves and desires, in fact loves and yearns to love EVERY person just as exhaustively right here, right now. I have actually wondered if the presence of this second element is part of what validates the experience as authentic. In any case, I can only hope my life is an effective sign of this truth!! Otherwise, I will have failed in a significant way in the very special vocation to which I have been called.

Paintings from Brother Emmaus O'Herlihy, OSB: Camaldolese Hermit in Reclusion and St Romuald receiving the gift of tears  from the series "St Romuald and his Followers."

Karl Rahner and Everyday Mysticism

[[Sister Laurel, your last post is reminiscent of the mysticism of Karl Rahner, true?]]

Yes, it is indeed. I am probably at least partly indebted to Rahner (and to Jesuits more generally) for my understanding of the world and spirituality --- and strongly so to Paul Tillich as well. Rahner is famous for having made the comment that unless all Christians became mystics, there would be no Christianity. However, Rahner made those comments within the context of what has been called an "everyday mysticism" --- a mysticism which recognized the mystery of God at the heart of everyday reality. What he wanted, and what he saw as imperative, was a mysticism in which Christians discovered the hidden presence of God, the deep and holy ground and depth in and of all created existence.  (Of course I must note that finding the presence of God in ordinary life is also a profoundly Benedictine trait and I am clearly Camaldolese Benedictine in this way as well.)

This form of mysticism issues in a "sober" spirituality "found in courageous perseverance in silent faith, trust, love, and unselfish service, despite life's seeming emptiness." (Egan, Karl Rahner) It also issues in experiences of joy at the presence of God in the most mundane circumstances of life as well as in the more extraordinary or "learned" mysticism of the saint. All of these are specifications of the orientation to God (the ground of being and mystery) which is partly constitutive of every human being. With and in Jesus Christ, we come to celebrate life and its inherent goodness and sanctity. More, we understand creation as sacramental and recognize the myriad ways it reveals and mediates God's presence and Word to us every day. This essential tearing or sundering of the barrier (veil) between the sacred and profane, the mystical and the temporal, this recognition and fostering of the sacramental character of all creation, even the most apparently mundane, is part of the vocation of every Christian and the core of any authentic mysticism. We come to share in this vocation by accepting our place in Jesus' life, death, resurrection, and ascension --- that is, by participating in the Christ Event in which the barrier was sundered and reconciliation achieved between God and his creation. Appreciation of all of this was the reason Rahner spoke somewhat hyperbolically of the imperative that every Christian become a mystic lest there be no Christianity.

Though Rahner affirms these as well, his theology does not completely trust versions of mysticism which stress extraordinary phenomenon, ecstasies, and the like. He does not like the idea of infused contemplation which seems interventionist and possibly elitist. Instead he prefers the idea that some persons, when the experiences are not merely auto-suggestive or psychologically aberrant, learn to allow the Holy Spirit's communications with greater intensity and ease than others do; hence the phrase above, "learned" mysticism or contemplation. But this mysticism is not different in kind from the everyday mysticism he espouses. It is merely different in intensity and clarity and remains rooted in the same ground of mystery which is at the core of all mysticism. (I should note that to the extent these are genuine, they will foster the same reverence and love for others and all of God's creation any experience of or inspiration by God empowers.)

There are several books available for those wanting to understand Rahner's everyday mysticism better. These include, Everyday Faith (Rahner), Karl Rahner, Mystic of Everyday Life by Egan, The Mystical Way in Everyday Life (Rahner). More technical articles are available in Sacramentum Mundi and Theological Investigations. A World of Grace by O'Donovan is also helpful. I suspect you have read several of these already but others may find them of assistance. I would recommend Egan's book though as a place to begin and supplement that with The Mystical Way in Everyday Life because the latter supplies prayers, etc which will illustrate what Egan writes about at greater length.

Additionally, people may be interested in Jesuit spirituality more generally, for everyday mysticism is a pillar of this spirituality and Rahner was a key proponent. James Martin's recent book, The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life, would be a great place to start!

Desiring Mystical Experiences: "Is it Proper"?

One of the questions I received in response to the original post on Mystical Experience and One's Place in the World, was the following: [[Is it proper to desire mystical experiences? . . .My goal is quite simply to be completely absorbed in the Lord, in prayer. . .I have been a woman of serious prayer and meditation for many years and am desirous of being a true contemplative. But I realise that such are pure gifts from God. But, oh how I desire them! Am I wrong?]]

The short and unnuanced answer is, no, there is nothing wrong with simply desiring what you have had a taste of (mystical union), and what you are in fact made for. Often when we come to prayer we have a sense of deep peace, of various experiences of being addressed, comforted, healed, held, listened to, and we may also sense that those are partial or mitigated experiences of a communion we are ultimately made for. Sometimes the obstacles to more intense and pervasive experiences are those we carry within us, sometimes they are simply part of God's own hugeness or a sort of "withholding" of God's Self in these ways. But what remains true is that we are ultimately made for mystical union with God and so, longing for this in our prayer is completely understandable. So long as we remain aware, as you do, that specific experiences are gifts of God at the same time, and that, with or without such experiences, prayer is God's constant work within us, I think such desire CAN be virtuous and a way of remaining open to God's presence.

The longer answer though is that at the same time there MAY be something wrong with desiring these experiences; it depends on what we are desiring and why. One problem with these kinds of experiences is that they ordinarily put the focus on us and our experience rather than on God and his constant activity within us. Similarly, we often find these experiences are seductive. I remember for a week after the experience I described, I would go to prayer looking for this amazing ecstasy (this standing outside my normal reality in this way) to occur again --- I wanted so much to be taken up again in this way, to dance with Christ again, to experience the radiance of God's joy at being with me. And yet, it did not happen. I, rather sheepishly, related to my director what my prayer had been like that week and she laughed (gently, but with real understanding), and said, "It's a little like being a kid in a candy store, isn't it? You just want back in there for more!" And of course, she was right.

Fortunately, the experience I had (and have described here), focused my attention on God's own "experience" throughout -- not on my own. It was primarily an experience of God's own delight and joy, not my own. Even so, what I really needed to learn to do was to tap back into (or draw from the living memory of) the original experience from time to time, but also, to appreciate better the everyday omnipresence and grace of God which this experience signaled and in which it was grounded. To continue my director's analogy, I needed to learn to love fruits (and vegetables) and all the naturally sweet "foods" of Divine grace and presence that were around (and within!) me everyday at every moment. If mystical experiences do not lead us to an openness to God in all the ways God is present to us --- most of which are not marked by extraordinary experiences or even any "experience" --- then their seductiveness is probably not edifying, either to us or to others.

Another problem, especially when we come to see these experiences as a sign of advancement in prayer, or when they become regular (which tends to make me think they are more of us and less of God), is what happens when they cease. In the first instance we may cease to look for the real and infallible signs of spiritual growth and maturity: peace, love, compassion, patience, courage, the ability to suffer with equanimity, joy, and the like. We may begin to see our prayer as incomplete or inadequate. But ecstatic experiences, as you, I, and others note, are pure gifts and there is nothing we can do beyond normal faithfulness to prayer to prepare for or cause them. We absolutely cannot expect them. If we begin to think of ourselves as mystics because of a few significant experiences which were SOLELY due to God's power and grace, we may well have put the accent in the wrong place --- namely on ourselves and on what is merely a quantitatively small part of our spiritual lives which need not necessarily reflect the maturity of our spirituality or the authenticity of our humanity. (Note well, I am not referring to Peter Smith's identification of himself as a mystic here, for instance, --- that is completely valid I think --- but I do have a sense that this was true in the original situation that prompted the question I answered in Mystical Experiences and our Place in the World.)

In the second instance, when these experiences cease (or become infrequent), we may be tempted to think God has ceased to grace us at all, or that we have sinned seriously, or that we have reached some even "more advanced dark night" experience --- none of which are particularly likely or which really understand the gratuitousness of occasional or rare experiences of ecstasy or rapture and the like. This is especially difficult when we have come to define ourselves in terms of these experiences, or when others have come to see us in these terms and accept us as "spiritual" (or, in some cases, as less eccentric or unstable than they thought!) because of them. Is our prayer and our spirituality recognizably more than these experiences? Are we ourselves more than these --- no matter how important and genuine they are? Are we still mystics (or contemplatives, or charismatics, or whatever the label) when these experiences cease?  And finally, do we recognize that these experiences do not make us more profoundly loved by God than someone who never has such experiences? Do we realize that our everyday faithfulness to prayer and God's continuous faithfulness to us is far more important than these extraordinary experiences? These seem to me to be the important questions to which we (and those who know us) should be able to answer yes.

As many genuine mystics remind us, prayer (on our side of the equation) is an act of will. (I prefer to define prayer as God's activity within us, but on our side of things prayer is an act of will.) One author, in writing about Julian of Norwich commented: [[God is much more pleased, according to Julian, when our prayer is unrewarding to us but is centered on God, rather than on our self-oriented personal "experience." "Praying," [Julian] declares, "is a true, gracious, lasting intention of the soul one-ed and made fast to the will of our Lord by the sweet, secret working of the Holy Spirit" ---a simple act of faithful and trust-filled willing.]] He goes on to note: [[Julian delivers us from the guilt of not feeling prayerful. In a direct analogy one may often not feel like going home to one's spouse, but one goes home out of faithfulness, and thereby demonstrates a love that transcends the myth of romance and the sentimentality of emotions. Julian knows that both loving and praying are done with the will, not the emotions.]] (The Complete Julian of Norwich, Fr John-Julian, OJN, p 12)

The point here is not that feelings, emotions, or mystical experiences are bad or should not be desired (nor that they are not part of loving) but motives for prayer may be ambivalent at best when these, especially mystical or highly emotionally charged experiences, are involved. As I noted above, in the experience I described, what was overwhelming to me was what an experience of joy this was FOR GOD! I am sure I must have personally experienced joy (the imagery involved surely reflected it), but it was realizing that my prayer, my slightest gesture of acting/willing to be there and for and with God, opening to him, was a joyful experience for God that changed my life and prayer. Ironically, this mystical experience in many ways did away with the need or desire for others (i.e., other similar experiences)!  I have not ceased to do "lectio" with it even 35 years later. It remains striking to me that the feelings I can name clearly were God's own --- those communicated to me as 'his" joy and delight --- not my own.

One issue you raise is that of becoming a "true contemplative" and you linked that in your question (in the section I did not copy) with praying without distraction, including not being bothered by ambient sound and the noises of neighbors, etc. If you don't mind my opinion on that, I have found that if one can learn to pray WITH distractions --- that is, bring the neighbors, traffic (harried travelers, an overly mobile world, etc.) into one's prayer in some way, one may be closer to becoming a true contemplative than the image in your email allows. I would bet that if you try this these sources of distraction will surely look and sound differently to you thereafter. What is sometimes called "Infused contemplation" is a gift of God and not everyone may experience this at any given period, but I sincerely believe that all of us are called to contemplative prayer more generally, and this is no less truly contemplative than what is called "infused". We are surely called to be absorbed in God in our prayer (and to allow him to be "absorbed with" us in ways we might usually resist), but another reason for prayer is to bring all of creation to God, and this is one of the ways to help do that.

By the way, thanks to you and others for your suggestions on topics re diocesan eremitical life you would like to hear more about. They are good. Meanwhile, I hope this helps a bit with the questions you raised. Get back to me if it is unclear or raises more questions. Given the complexity and importance of the topic it is likely I will only cover one "side" of things at a time --- something that can cause a sense that that is the "only" side I appreciate.

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.