Questions on the Charism of the Diocesan Hermit

[[ Hi Sister, you write about the charism of the diocesan hermit. I understand part of that is that you are diocesan and part of that is that you live the silence of solitude (or at least are committed to living it). It seems to me like these are different charisms. Can you explain how they fit together? Also is it true that every hermit is his or her own charism? I read that a few years ago and I wondered what it meant.]]

Thanks for writing. I suppose that when I first began thinking about the charism of the diocesan hermit I wrote about their standing as diocesan as a main piece of the gift their lives were to both Church and world. Over time I began to work out more fully the place of the silence of solitude in all of this and it is certain that today, while I believe one's diocesan standing is important, it is the silence of solitude I point to as not only the environment and the goal of eremitical life, but also the gift quality or charism of such a life. So important do I consider this that when I rewrote my Rule a few years ago I extended the section on the silence of solitude from these three vantage points. However, I don't think the two things conflict.

Instead, I think the diocesan context of canon 603 hermits underscores the importance, possibility, and necessity of the silence of solitude whether one lives in an urban hermitage or in a hermitage in the mountains or desert. It especially underscores the possibility of achieving this eremitical goal and making a gift of it within the context of the local diocesan and even the parish Church instead of within a religious order or other institute devoted to eremitical life. Thus, while I wouldn't say diocesan standing and responsibility within the local Church is incidental to the charism of the diocesan hermit's life, neither, do I think, it constitutes the heart of the charism of her vocation. Still, one of the places I believe the diocesan character of an eremitical vocation under c 603 most clearly benefits the Church and especially protects the charism of solitary eremitical lives is in regard to urban hermits.

You see, I firmly believe that urban life militates against what canon 603 calls the silence of solitude. It is geared to alienation and isolation, and certainly, it is geared to layers of noise piled on layers of noise. It is not geared to the covenant-relatedness Christians identify with real individuality, nor to the authentic relatedness that that silent union with God makes possible and necessary. There is a reason Thomas Merton referred to the unnatural solitudes of slums and I extend that term to urban settings more generally. There is a reason monastic communities tend to build and establish themselves far from city centers. It is not that God and communion with God in the silence of solitude cannot be found here. These certainly can, but at the same time, there is a constant pull and pressure from urban reality which really does militate against these.

When canon 603 was first promulgated bishops in various places forbade hermits from living in urban hermitages. Meanwhile, already-established hermits criticized "urban hermitages" as oxymorons. However, our God is the God of Presence in the ordinary, the God of sacramental reality who transfigures the profane into living symbols (mediators) of his holiness; "he" transforms the muteness and isolation of urban life into a Magnificat of God's grace. What better witness to this amazing transformation could there be than a solitary hermit in an urban hermitage? The diocesan hermit living in a mainly urban or suburban diocese is called precisely to this specific witness. It is the presence of the hermit in the local Church --- whatever the nature of that local Church --- which is a charismatic presence and reminder of the sacramental character of our faith and the transfiguring power of the God who is met in silence and solitude.

Are hermits their own Charism? 

The idea that every hermit is his or her own charism is a little strange to me  (it seems too individualistic!) --- especially since c 603 hermits live according to a specific definition of eremitical life which embodies certain values without fail. It seems to me that it is the vocation as such that is the charism, and especially as defined under Canon 603. I do accept that each solitary hermit will live this out in her own way, with the flexibility the Spirit requires and inspires. Even so, as I wrote sometime a number of months ago, even when every fingerprint is unique they share commonalities, whorls and loops, ridges and valleys which make them fingerprints and not something else. Thus, I believe every hermit will represent the charism called "the silence of solitude," in a Church and world which cries out for such a gift of God.

At the same time, those with chronic illness will give a slightly (or even a very) different shape or color to this reality than the hermit who is young and healthy, for instance. The individual's own personal characteristics and life circumstances will shape the way the charism is embodied. The life and prayer of the hermit who once was married and may have raised a family will color this gift in a different way with her life than will the hermit who once belonged to a religious congregation and moved to solitude from there, for example. The lay or clerical hermit who is not consecrated under canon 603 will witness to this charism in somewhat different ways than the consecrated hermit. The vocation's charism remains the silence of solitude (the quies and resulting capacity for parrhesia --- bold and even prophetic speech --- which comes from life in communion with God) but this amazing gem will have a variety of facets and each hermit will emphasize or articulate one or another of these more and differently than other hermits will.

One of the reasons I argue in this way is because charisms are the result of a combination or intersection of the Holy Spirit's movement and inspiration with the world's needs. A charism is larger than an individual's life and greater than the individual's own gifts and talents. In a world fraught with covenant and relationship-destroying individualism it hardly makes sense that the Holy Spirit would inspire a kind of paradigmatic individualism by making each hermit a kind of law unto him/herself. So, yes, I do agree each hermit, to the extent his/her life evidences God's redemption in Christ, is a gift to the Church and world and a sharer in the incredibly significant and prophetic character of the desert tradition, but it is the vocation as such or something characteristic of the vocation, not the individual's eccentricities, which is dignified with the term "charism". Instead, the charism is shared and uniquely embodied by all who are called to eremitical life in the Church.

It is not unusual to hear people claim that every hermit is different, every hermit is absolutely unique and that legislating for hermits is a futile (or necessarily distorting) exercise similar to herding cats. Anglican solitaries argue this way, the author of the very fine blog City Desert has written about dimensions of this in The Hermit in Roman Catholic Canon Law. Of course, every hermit is a unique embodiment of the charism of eremitical life. But when one maintains a radical distinction and uniqueness to the exclusion of identity, continuity, and an essential sameness one has also eviserated any charism or even the possibility of charism by ensuring the Holy Spirit's inspiration does not intersect in any meaningful way with the deep needs of the rest of the Church and world. Instead one ensures what might be profoundly prophetic is merely novel and tangential --- and therefore incapable of addressing others, much less of summoning them to greater authenticity in Christ.

There is a paradox here (isn't there always?!), namely, the unique and prophetic charism of the hermit is lost the moment she ceases to be an integral member of the Church. Just as an answer must be integrally related to the question that calls for and needs it to really BE an answer, a statement that ceases to be related to a question in any meaningful way ceases to be an answer, and especially it ceases to be an answer that drives the question beyond itself to even greater and deeper questions. When the only thing we hold in common is our uniqueness (or our solitariness), we will cease to be able to relate to one another, much less embody and be a gift of the Holy Spirit to others!

For these reasons, it is interesting to me that your question refers to a hermit being "her own" charism. That is, it seems to me, the one thing a hermit must never be. She is meant to be a gift to others and more, a gift of the Holy Spirit to and from the Church to others. She is meant to embody a charism that is never merely "her own" even while it reflects the deepest truth of her life and self. When Peter Damian speaks of the hermit as "ecclesiola" he is referring both to her individual identity and to her profound relatedness to the Body of Christ. Remove either element and you have lost any notion of charism, much less the charism of eremitical life.

On the Redemptive Experience at the heart of Eremitical Life (Followup to last two posts)

[[ Thanks for answering my follow up question. What happens if a person has already had the kind of life-changing redemptive experience of God's love before they decide to become a hermit? Does your criterion for discernment still work? I am thinking of the way canon 603 came to be with the dozen or so monks you have written about who had to leave solemn vows in order to pursue eremitical life. It seems they must already have had a life-changing redemptive experience which happened prior to eremitical solitude don't you think?]]

Really great questions! In the case you mention, monks who come late to a sense of an eremitical call, it seems clear that while they had already had the central redemptive experiences which allowed them to be solemnly professed and consecrated as monks after years of formation, and then allowed them to live this life faithfully with patience and growing in union with God, they must also have experienced something truly life changing in a very striking and compelling way if it led them to seek secularization and dispensation from their solemn vows. While the growth in wholeness and holiness which led to this compelling experience was not one of eremitical solitude it was very definitely one of the silence of solitude which is characteristic of monastic life.

There is some difference in these two forms of the silence of solitude but in my experience they are more alike than different and call for and complete one another. That is why monastics take regular "desert days" in order to have time and space for eremitical silence and solitude and hermits like myself take retreat time at places like Redwoods Abbey where the experience of shared silence and solitude is so very real. Monks and Nuns need desert days as an intensification of the silence, solitude, and freedom of the eremitical life which complement life in community. Hermits need the experience of shared solitude, values, communal prayer, and general monastic sensibility which complements and even completes the solitary eremitical life in the Church. The point, however, is that these two forms of the silence of solitude, while not identical, are profoundly related; they naturally complement and call for one another.

In the history of monastic life the solitude of the early desert Fathers and Mothers often led them to create communities; later in monastic communities monks and nuns saw eremitical solitude as the summit of the monastic life which is centered on seeking God. Even so, when monks like those whose lives led to the eventual establishment of canon 603, monks who have given their entire lives to God in monastic community decide to leave everything they have known and loved for decades in order to follow a Divine call to eremitical solitude, we must see that this is part of a vocation to a redemptive transformation. I admit I have only corresponded very briefly with one of these original monk-hermits in British Columbia (he wrote me to discuss an article I had published). Your question makes me want to renew my correspondence and ask him about the character of the call he has lived as a hermit. What I am sure of is that sometimes a change in our vocational call (say from community to eremitical solitude, for instance) represents an intensification and deepening of the redemptive experiences we have already known. While I was not thinking about this in my earlier answers I was not excluding it either.

The bottom line in all of this remains that a hermit, to be authentic and credible, must demonstrate an experience of God's redemptive love experienced in the silence of solitude. If they have had such an experience they will be capable of witnessing to the gift that eremitical solitude is meant to be in the Church. If not, their eremitical life will be relatively empty, formalistic, and perhaps even fraudulent. Every vocation is a call to the redemptive love of God; every vocation is a way of sharing that same redemptive love and witnessing to it to others. Every vocation is a particular gift to the Church whose charismatic quality witnesses to the way the love of God meets concrete human potentials and needs. The way we discern a vocation is by attending to the gift of God's love and the concrete ways that love shapes our lives. If our lives are not shaped in a salvific way within a particular state of life we must, it seems to me, conclude either that God has not called us to this state or that we are somehow rejecting or avoiding God's call within this state.

When the Church must discern the nature of a vocation as rare, as counter cultural, and even as uniquely prophetic as is solitary eremitical life, she must be able to discern that this life shapes the candidate for profession, consecration, and beyond in a distinctly salvific way. While the process of discernment and formation allows for a diocese following a candidate or temporary professed hermit for a number of years in order to be sure this is the case before admitting them to perpetual profession and consecration, the history of eremitical life is also full of those who call themselves hermits as a validation of individualism and self-centeredness. It may well be the Church does not find a convincing redemptive experience at the heart of a candidate's life and will need to refuse to profess or consecrate them.

Followup Question on Being a Hermit in an Essential Sense

[[Sister Laurel, are you saying that although you wrote about being a hermit in some essential sense you didn't really know what that meant? What is the difference between being a hermit in an essential sense and being one in a proper sense? Thanks.]]

Good question. I guess it could sound kind of like that was what I was saying, but no, that is not quite it. What I was trying to say is that I have had a sense of the possibility and necessity of someone being a hermit in some essential sense but not yet actually being either that or a hermit in the proper sense for some time now --- at least 20 years. It was something I had experienced and something others I have spoken to have also experienced, but at the same time it was not an experience that was easy to define specifically. As I have had more experience of those who are counterfeit hermits and also as I have struggled from time to time with temptations to betray my own vocation, I have come to see more clearly what this somewhat indefinable reality is, namely, the experience of God's redemption of our lives in the desert silence of solitude. It is this redemption received in the context c 603 describes, and the increasing fullness of this redemptive experience the hermit comes to live out which is also both the goal and the gift or charism of her life.

If one is living a life marked by significant silence and solitude and in this silence and solitude one comes to know the redemptive power of God in a way which utterly transforms one's life to one of profound compassion, wholeness, meaningfulness, joy, etc; if one is compelled to continue to seek God in this same context and in even more radical expressions of this context --- something we find in forms of desert spirituality --- then I would argue that this person may well be a hermit in an essential sense.  If, on the other hand, silence and solitude are merely a way one recharges one's batteries, so to speak, or the way one gains a respite from the everyday world of active ministry, then I would argue they are not hermits in this or any sense.

When I was asked by my Bishop (then Allen H Vigneron) why I was seeking admission to profession as a canonical hermit rather than consecration as a virgin or some other vocation, my answer was rather cryptic. I started by saying, "Well, it is who I am." I also noted that years earlier when I first read canon 603 I had the sense that this might be a way of making sense of my entire life, strengths and weaknesses., education, contemplative life, vows, etc --- and indeed, that had been what happened --- and much more than I might ever have imagined as well.

Were I to elaborate on that first piece of my answer now I would say, "You see, it is in the silence of solitude and life as a hermit that God has transformed my life from one where chronic illness made my life meaningless, empty, relatively fruitless, etc, into one which makes a profound sense, is full and fruitful, and which can be, and in fact is, a gift of that same God to  both the Church and world." I might also have explained, "It is in the silence of solitude that God redeemed my life from one of irrelevant marginality and made it into one of prophetic liminality --- a significant and paradoxical way of standing at the very center of things. Because of this I am seeking canonical standing in order to live these realities in the heart of the Church as one ministering the Gospel in my weakness and not merely as one ministered to because I am ill."  In all of this I would have been describing the fact that apart from canonical standing God had made me into a hermit in an essential sense and that I further believed that it was God's will that this vocation be celebrated within the Church to which it truly belongs so that my life could be eremitical in the proper and public sense."

In this response the distinction between being a hermit in an essential sense and being one in the proper or even the public sense begins to be clearer I think. To be a hermit in the essential sense means to be a person whose life has been redeemed in the silence of solitude so central to eremitical life. It means to continue living in that context because one needs to do so in order to be as responsive as one can to the God who comes to one most powerfully in this way. It means to do so not merely because one is an introvert or has fulfilling hobbies, or avocations associated with time in solitude, nor because one needs to recharge one's spiritual or emotional batteries in solitude, and emphatically not because one cannot cope in society or has failed at life, but because one has experienced a meaningful and in fact, a salvific union with God precisely in this way of living. (One does not need to be chronically ill in order to experience God's redemption in a clear and convincing way, of course, but one still needs this to happen in the silence of solitude.)

To then adopt this way of living in a conscious and deliberate way, to structure one's life according to canon 603 for instance, whether or not one is ever professed and consecrated accordingly, is to then become a hermit in a "proper" sense. Here one begins to see one's abode as a hermitage, begins to think of oneself as a hermit in a conscious way, and may even begin to feel responsible for being a living part of the eremitical tradition which belongs so integrally to the Church --- whether one is a lay hermit living the life by virtue of one's baptism or is consecrated by God through the mediation of God's Church. A number of persons who have written me over the years seem to be at this point in their eremitical lives --- though they may not yet have experienced the radical redemption that is also necessary if one is to really be a hermit --- especially one called to a public vocation under canon 603.

In any case, this is why I say that one must be a hermit in some essential sense before one contacts their diocese to petition for admission to profession and (then) to consecration as a diocesan or solitary canonical hermit. Not only will there be a good deal less formation or discernment for the diocese to oversee (what they will do is significant nonetheless), but far more importantly, there is nothing the diocese or anyone overseeing the hermit's formation in solitude can do for the person if the "redemptive experience" piece of things is not present. One's eremitical life is meant to be a reflection of the saving Gospel of Jesus Christ and unless it really is this, unless this saving Gospel has especially transfigured one's life --- and done so in solitude, one simply cannot live or represent the real gift of eremitical life effectively nor witness to those who are marginalized or isolated regarding the gift their lives are and can become to others in similar situations. This is also why I say the silence of solitude is not only the context of the hermit's life, but the goal and charism as well.

The silence of solitude is a description of the life transfigured by God in silence and solitude where one moves from being a noisy (estranged, restless, driven), and perhaps even an anguished scream of suffering and longing to being a joyful canticle of the grace of God at rest (and thus, thriving!) in external silence and physical solitude. It is the gift or charism the hermit especially is meant to bring to the Church and witness to others in effective ways so that those others may know the possibility and (we hope) the eventual realization of God's saving love --- even, and perhaps especially, when their life circumstances cause them to have nothing to offer otherwise but their emptiness and the apparent absurdity of their lives. In the solitary eremitical life this is precisely what God transfigures into a precious gift of infinite value; it is especially such radical marginalization and devaluation that God redeems to make the most radical witness to the truth of the Gospel of the Crucified One in the silence of solitude --- whether one does so as an "essential hermit" or eventually as a "proper hermit" of some sort!

Does a Rule Have to be Perfect before Submission to One's Diocese?

[[Dear Sister,  I am wondering if my Rule has to be perfect before turning it into my diocese? You wrote about writing several different Rules over a period of time. Was part of the reason so the Rule could be better after several drafts? Do dioceses expect a hermit to write several Rules over time or do they expect a person to be able to write one immediately? Did your own diocese ask you to write several versions?]]

The Reasons for Writing Several Versions:

In suggesting a candidate for eremitical profession write several versions of a Rule over time I had several things in mind: 1) Dioceses use the hermit's Rule to discern the quality of the vocation standing in front of them. While I was fortunate in having a Vicar follow me and meet regularly with me over a five year period at other times chancery personnel had to depend more on what I had written and how well it reflected my own knowledge and experience of this vocation. I think this is not uncommon in dioceses. 2) besides aiding in discernment Rules written over a period of five to seven years can assist the candidate, diocese, and delegate or director in gauging the way formation is going. It is not so much that a candidate will write a better Rule as opposed to draft versions --- as though this is a literary exercise; instead it is that the candidate's understanding of the vocation will change and grow as will her prayer life and experience of living the canon and all of its elements.

With the requirement that a candidate write an experi-mental Rule that allows her to grapple with these things, and then in a couple of years that she write another one which will be considered less experimental and more truly binding the diocese should be able to discern actual unsuitability for the vocation. If the candidate is allowed to continue the process of discernment as she works on her own formation, then a couple of years later she may be ready for temporary profession. At that point I would expect the Rule she submits to need little change and be something she tweaks only as growth requires and as work with her director verifies. Finally, the hermit should write a Rule which becomes binding on the day of perpetual profession. Like the Rule submitted for temporary profession this one becomes binding in law but now perpetually. This is not to say it cannot be changed (one will continue to grow and mature in all of this) but besides discussion with one's director or delegate such changes would need to be approved by one's Bishop at this point.

3) the (proposed) "requirement" that one write several Rules over the first years of living the canon provides a kind of space where one can work out the ways each non-negotiable element of the canon is reflected in this particular life. For instance, most canon 603 hermits deal with silence and solitude in their early Rule but few that I have spoken to either did write about or were ready to write about  the silence OF solitude. As the vocation becomes more well known (though still not well-understood!) this situation will be exacerbated. Not only does one need to deal with the silence of solitude in a different way than one does external silence and physical solitude but the ability to do so is the result of eremitical experience one acquires only over a period of years. So, for instance, my original Rule wrote about the concrete practices assuring external silence and physical solitude but it took years before my Rule came to reflect my understanding of the silence of solitude as environment, goal, and finally, as unique gift or charism of solitary eremitical life lived under canon 603. It took time to come to understand the human person as a covenant reality and the silence of solitude as particularly antithetical to the individualism and isolationism which plagues contemporary society.

Similarly, when I first wrote a Rule I skipped over "stricter separation from the world." Not only did I not truly understand what was needed here but I also didn't trust the reality I thought this element of the canon demanded. I read "world" in a relatively unnuanced way and I read "separation" in terms of "turning one's back on" others. It took me several years --- in fact a number of years of prayer, reflection, and personal work before I came to understand how it is a hermit both lives FOR the world  God so loves even as she separates herself from and rejects significant dimensions of it. It took time to perceive what the vocation asked of me as a person and what that witnessed to; in other words it took me  a number of years to understand the unique generosity and hospitality of the eremitical vocation and how that contrasts with a dangerous enmeshment which is often seen as legitimate engagement. All of this impacts the way a Rule is formulated; it also will impact the way a diocese discerns this vocation and the authenticity of other vocations to solitary eremitical life.

This leads to a final reason for writing several Rules over time, namely 4) one is called to represent an ancient desert tradition present in Judaism and Christianity. (Obviously it is present in other faiths as well, but my concern here is with the specifically Judeo-Christian eremitical tradition.) This tradition is associated with the prophetic and counter cultural dimensions of both faiths and is consistently linked to the assumption of a new identity and maturity vis-a-vis God, God's People and God's future in and with regard to our world. While a Rule is meant to help one live one's own individual call it also is meant to reflect the continuity of one's life with the eremitical tradition. It takes time to appreciate this --- especially seeing the importance of modifying traditional expressions of eremitical life in the face of contemporary pastoral needs while maintaining significant continuity. Diocesan hermit Rules are approved with a Bishop's declaration of approval. This does not make them public documents but it does, I think, make them quasi public documents which can serve the Church, canonists, and other interested in canon 603 eremitical life. In other words, they have the potential to serve more than the individual hermit and her diocese.

Diocesan Expectations:

My own diocese did not expect me to write several versions of a Rule over time. They simply expected a Rule which was then submitted to canonists and the Bishop for approval. However, when I reapproached the diocese in @ 2003-2004, the first Rule I submitted was written around 1983-4 and, though approved by canonists, was no longer sufficient to reflect either the way I lived this vocation nor my growth in understanding and embracing it. A newer Rule written at this time was approved by my diocese and became my own proper law on the day of my perpetual profession. In 2010-11 I revised it and I suppose in time I may do so again as my own prayer life develops and other priorities change or shift around a bit.

I do hope that dioceses will see the potential of using the Rules individuals write to aid the processes of discernment and supervising of formation along with determining readiness for temporary or perpetual profession, but I don't know if any have adopted this approach. One diocesan Bishop gave a hermit candidate in his diocese a Rule which I am told she was then free to revise and modify under supervision. I suspect we are on the same track here --- so long as the Bishop's version really was a starting point the hermit was free to work with and revise over time. I believe that to the extent a diocese really understands what it takes to write a livable Rule which reflects a healthy and meaningful eremitical life they will not expect a candidate to be able to write one straight away nor will they dismiss a candidate simply because they are initially unable.

However, it is also the case that dioceses and curial staff do not have experience with writing Rules. Since it is the one tangible element of the canon they might well ask the candidate to write one prematurely or fail to understand the reasons it may take several attempts to write an adequate one. Both the candidate and the diocesan staff need to understand that to some extent one writes to learn and grow. The diocese that does approach the requirement that the hermit write her own Rule in this positive and dynamic way is apt to have good experiences with hermits eventually making perpetual profession and consecration. You yourself can assist a diocese in coming to see the importance of the Rule and of several different versions over time.

Rule as Law and Gospel Vision:

The hermit's Rule will be her own proper law, similar to the Constitutions and Statutes for religious living in community, and this is certainly an important function all by itself. However, historically Rules have had more than this function. They have often served to provide a vision of the life being lived and enough of a sense of the values being embodied to inspire the person to live the Rule as law. In other words a Rule can be a specific picture of Gospel living which captures one's imagination and reflects what it means to live as Christ in this specific context.

Most Rules regarding canon 603 begin with the terms of the canon and outline concrete ways in which those essential elements are to be lived out. At some point, however, hermits tend to find a list of do's and don't's, shall's and shall not's is simply insufficient to help them live eremitical life with real integrity. Either they will construct another document which serves to summarize the theology they live out and that helps inspire them to do so, or they will write their Rule or Plan of Life with this focus and include the concrete practices which are part and parcel of honoring such a vision. In either case the hermit will typically rewrite her Rule at various points along the course of her life. In the period sometimes referred to as "initial formation" this practice is a major help to the hermit and those discerning and supervising her vocation.

Your own Rule does not need to be perfect --- though to be honest,  I am not sure I even know what that means! It needs to reflect the life you are living and convey something of your vision of eremitical life and reasons for embracing it. It should include your current understanding of the central elements of the canon, the vows, and the significance of this life in the life of the Church. Eventually you will come to see, understand, and feel responsible for these things even more profoundly and extensively than you do currently and at that point you may need to rewrite your Rule. For instance, I came to understand the silence of solitude as the charism of solitary eremitical life which the hermit brings both our Church and world. It is a gift of the Holy Spirit our world in particular cries out for just as it is something the Church's own kerygma (proclamation) reflects and the eremitical life mediates in an especially vivid way. None of this was present in my first (1985) Rule but I could not live the life without it today. It gives coherence and significance to external practices in the hermit's life and anchors them deeply in both eremitical tradition and contemporary pastoral necessity. It is the central transfiguring reality which allows me to be a hermit rather than merely an isolated and relatively pious person.

Witnessing to the God who Saves: On Eremitical Hiddenness and Interiority

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

More on the Hiddenness of the Hermit Vocation

[[Hi Sister Laurel, thank you for telling your story from the perspective of using gifts vs being the gift. Two things surprised me a little. The first was the idea that the hiddenness of the eremitical life has to do mainly with the work God is doing within the hermit. This really is the vocation of the hermit and where else can it happen but in hiddenness? The second was that in letting go of a concern to use the gifts God has given us and instead focusing on the gift God makes of us we are involved in what the Gospel calls "dying to self"! I had never thought about it that way but this is the sense it made to me. The motto, "Let go and let God" fits here doesn't it?]]

The Hiddenness of the Hermit Vocation:

Thanks for writing. You got it exactly right with regard to the hiddenness of the eremitical life!  I especially liked your rhetorical question, ". . . where else can it happen but in hiddenness?" Most of the time when hermits speak about the hiddenness of their lives they speak about people not knowing they are hermits or doing things anonymously. Others speak of not wearing habits, not using titles or post-nomial initials and the like lest the hiddenness of the vocation be betrayed. I have written several times now about the tension between the hiddenness of the vocation and its public character --- its call to witness to the work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the Church in this way of life. All of these have some greater or lesser degree of validity but I think that when we recognize that eremitical life is about letting God do God's own silent and solitary work in the hiddenness of the human heart as we move more and more toward dwelling within his own heart in Christ, we have put our finger on the heart of the matter of eremitical hiddenness.

It seems to me that in every person's life God works silently in incredible hiddenness. The hermit commits her entire life to allowing this and witnessing to it. The very fact that she retires to a hermitage witnesses to her commitment to and faith in this hidden work of God. The fact that she embraces a life of the silence of solitude is a commitment that witnesses to it. Those of us who wear habits, use titles and post-nomial initials that prompt people to ask about our lives are a commitment and (paradoxically) witness to this incredible hiddenness. It is always striking to me that when people learn I am a hermit they tend to be completely off-footed. I noted that recently I played violin for a funeral held in our parish and that this was well-received. People understood this use of gifts and they wondered what I did here at the parish; they expected that I taught, perhaps music, or that I was a liturgist or any number of other things but they looked a bit stunned when they heard I was a hermit and rarely played violin this way. No one actually said, "Oh what a waste," of course; surprise and maybe puzzlement was what was generally expressed. I am hoping folks realized that the violin expressed and reflected what happens to my own heart in the ordinary silence and solitude of my hermitage.

In any case, the gifts we occasionally use and those we relinquish in the name of our lives as hermits witness to the essential hiddenness of those lives and of the God powerfully at work there. We know that God works this way in every person's life but it seems to  me that relatively few people actually commit to revealing this by embracing an essential hiddenness. Cloistered nuns and monks do so, hermits do so; it is a witness our world needs --- and one that throws folks off-balance when they meet it face to face. The Kingdom of God comes in this way. It grows silently in the darkness and night when we can do nothing but trust in the One who is its source. It bursts forth when we have reached the limits of our own patience, when we have finally relinquished any pretense of control or even understanding. It comes in victory at the same time we admit defeat and steals upon us -- gently silencing the prayer that storms heaven so that heaven can simply sing within us.

 Prayer is certainly the hermit's main ministry but only if it is genuinely the work she allows God to do in, with, and through her, the work which allows her to set her own concerns, frailties, strengths, and even her talents and gifts aside so to speak so that the hidden work and presence of God may flourish within her. I have written before that it is the hermit's very vocation to become God's own prayer in our world; in fact, that is really the fundamental vocation of every person because it is the thing which characterizes authentic humanity. Hermits, it seems to me, undertake this with a special dedication in a way which is largely stripped of the activities and ministries which, while usually revelatory, may actually distract attention from that foundational presence at work in the solitary silence of every human heart. See also, Essential Hiddenness: A Call to extraordinary ordinariness for a post on the universality of this call.

God-given gifts and Dying to Self:

Ordinarily we speak of dying to self in terms of using our gifts generously and selflessly. This is an entirely valid and critical piece of what dying to self really means. However, I think the idea of letting go of significant gifts God has given us so that who we are ourselves, that is, so that we are who God makes us to be most fundamentally, is the real witness of our lives; it is a special and even more radical kind of dying to self peculiar to the eremitical life --- though we find suggestions of it in old age, chronic illness, etc. This really is a new insight for me --- one, that is, I have only just begun thinking consciously about in connection with the idea that the hermit's life is an essentially hidden one. It is a paradox because at the same time we let go of those gifts we become freer to use them without pressure or self-consciousness should appropriate opportunities arise. Even so, we are not our gifts, not most fundamentally, nor is our life ultimately about a struggle to protect or even to use those gifts.  And when we are deprived of those gifts or of the ability to use them by illness or other life circumstances the deepest or foundational meaning and mystery of our lives can become clear. This too is a form of dying to self --- perhaps the most radical form short of the physical death of red martyrdom.

I think hermits have known this right along.  It is what allows them to use the term "white martyrdom" for their lives. I have written here that I once thought of contemplatives and hermits as selfish rather than selfless. Back then I was thinking of the multitude of wasted gifts and of some sort of failure to honor them but I was not thinking of a life which explicitly honored the giver of all gifts in a more transparent way or was a naked expression of (dependence on) that giver and the redemption he occasions in us. At the same time I was very young; I had not really faced a situation where my own God-given gifts were either unusable or where, in my brokenness, emptiness, and incapacity, I knew more fully and clearly my own need for radical redemption --- much less had I come to actually know that redemption.

Only as I came face to face with these and the immense question "WHY?!" that drove me did I begin to sense that eremitical life could "make sense of the whole of my life." My sense of this, however, was still inchoate; it was as unformed as my own eremitical identity for I was not, in any sense of the term, a hermit. In time, and especially in the silence of solitude, God did with my life what the Gospel promises and proclaims. He loved me into wholeness and continues to do so. That hidden, unceasing, and unconquerable redemptive Love-in-act is what my vocation witnesses to. Hermits have seen right along that their witness is more fundamental and radical than even the use of God-given gifts for the sake of others can make clear.

One of the reasons the hermit life will always be rare is because we need people who use their God-given gifts in the multitude of ways which enrich our lives every day. In no way am I suggesting that such gifts are unimportant or, generally speaking, should not be used in assisting in the coming of the Kingdom of God. This is the usual way we cooperate with God and reveal God's life to others.

But at the same time there will always be a few of us who have come to a place where chronic illness (or whatever else!) made this impossible; and yet, through a Divine mercy and wisdom we can hardly believe, much less describe, we have been redeemed and become gifts more precious than any or all of the individual talents we once carefully developed and shepherded. Through a more radical and counter-cultural kenosis (self-emptying), in the hiddenness of a life more fundamentally about being made gift than about using our talents, hermits are called to witness to the inexhaustible, transcendent, and redemptive reality dwelling in the very core of our being -- the infinitely loving source and ground of our lives. Those redeemed and transfigured lives say, "God alone is enough!" With St Paul (who himself was stripped and emptied by life's circumstances and who spent time in the desert learning to see the new kind of sense his life held in light of the crucified Christ), we proclaim in the starkest way we can, "I, yet not I but Christ within me!"

On the Distinction Between Using Gifts and Being the Gift

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope this is helpful and answered all your questions.

Followup to Questions about the Value vs the Utility of Eremitical Vocations

Dear Sister your last post on the diocesan eremitical vocation was very positive compared to what I wrote you about [two weeks ago]. (cf, On Maintaining the Distinction between Utility and Value) I am guessing you would disagree with this [included] take on your vocation as well. Could you comment? I believe the immediate context is that this person has petitioned her diocese for canonical status and had not received a response yet (this was written several years ago and she wrote them [her diocese] a couple of months prior to this post). S/he says the vocation need not be credible and is for "good-for-nothings".

[[The hermit vocation is a veritable non-entity in the views of most, of nearly all, even in the Church. Yes, it is written in the Catechism, there is a Canon Law that is applicable, there are saints who have hermit status, and there are a minutia of canonically approved, known hermits in the world. But the remaining souls who are called to the life are veritable non-entities in the non-entity status of their vocation. It is such a non-entity that a response to a request is long in coming, if it ever arrives in the post. An appointment to discuss the vocation, is not of much consequence or importance to the degree that it keeps being put off until "sometime". Yes, we can talk about it "sometime". Now, this may to some in the vocation seem like an insult or a negativity. It is not! It only verifies all the more the vocation for what it is: non-entity status. A hermit's life is so hidden, so undefinable, so inconsequential, so non-this and non-that as to be nothing and worthy of only good-for-nothings.]]

Certainly it is true that this vocation is little known and little understood in today's Church. That is one of the reasons some diocesan hermits have blogs. It is also true that the vocation is counter-cultural and stands in opposition to many of the ways our world measures productivity and status. Hermits, at least among those who do not know them personally, may be thought to be folks who have failed at life, dislike people, are pathologically introspective and many other similar stereotypes. However, the post you are citing from is written by someone waiting for word from her diocese on whether they will work with her to discern a vocation to diocesan eremitical life. The idea that the vocation is undefinable and inconsequential is certainly a misrepresentation which someone petitioning her diocese for admission to canonical standing should not make. Further, she seems upset that she has not gotten a fairly immediate response to her request to do so (she has gotten a response but it seems not to be permission to make vows). In any case, I don't think she is speaking about the counter cultural nature of the vocation itself; rather I think she is feeling dismissed by the diocese and may be being ironic (and perhaps hyperbolic) in this response. (In other words she may be guilty of dealing with disappointment by throwing the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak.)

 I say that because it is sometimes hard to wait for a diocese's response to one's initial request to be considered in this way. However, presumably this difficulty stems from the fact that one really understands that the diocesan eremitical vocation is a significant one and genuinely believes one is called to it by God. It is awfully hard to believe someone who felt the vocation is worthy only of "good-for-nothings" would desire canonical standing or seek to live such an ecclesial vocation. For that matter it is hard to understand why the Church would esteem or VALUE such a vocation enough to recognize and govern it canonically or in this way link it to public rights and obligations as a witness to the work of the Holy Spirit. In fact, the difficulty in getting oneself professed is ordinarily a sign of the value and esteem with which the Church regards this vocation. Only in a handful of situations has it been tied to members of the hierarchy's denigration of the vocation. It does seem to me that this person is speaking of being treated by her diocese like a "good-for-nothing" because they are not responding to her query quickly enough to suit her or because she is "only" a lay hermit. It's a bit hard to tell from this passage if she believes canonical vocations are esteemed while lay eremitical vocations are not. For that reason I checked the post and found the following passage which clarifies a bit more what she is actually saying. She continues:

[[It is the life and work of a slave to a servant. There is no need to rise up in ire, to take offense, to counter that there is worth and value and to try to make the world, even the Catholic world see and understand and validate the vocation. There is no reason to "fight" for status, canonical or non-canonical, either one. There is no need for a support team to encourage sticking with trying to be made "credible" in the eyes of anyone on earth. What is the point? This is not part of the vocation, for the vocation itself is hidden in God through dying into nothingness. The status is thus as a non-entity which is no status at all. And this is a positive.]]

I may have answered a similar question several years ago and what I wrote just a few days ago on the distinction between utility and value and the importance of maintaining that certainly reiterated my disagreement with the exaggerated conclusions arrived at in the cited post. First, canonical standing is not about status in the common sense of prestige or social privilege. As I have written many times here, it is about standing in law as well as in the consecrated state of life, both of which are linked to public rights and obligations the Church entrusts to the person; the person assumes these in the act of professing vows and accepting consecration in the hands of her Bishop. Since it is both a new and an ancient vocation which had effectively died out in the Western Church, it is appropriate that diocesan hermits make this vocation known --- not least so it can be understood and witness in ways which are important to the Church and world. In other words, it is an important way of living and the Church recognizes that by linking it to profession and consecration. Lay eremitical vocations are also of great value; their counter-cultural nature coupled with the fact that they witness generally to the call of all the Baptized to assiduous prayer and genuine holiness is striking.

Secondly, while I agree that perseverance and patience are both necessary, one must recognize that canonical standing IS part of the vocation of the solitary consecrated hermit and is not extraneous to it. When one enters the consecrated state of life that state of life is constituted by the rights and obligations one embraces and is entrusted with. Thus, as I have noted before, while one can never change the fact that one has been consecrated, while consecration per se can never be dispensed, one can leave the consecrated state of life. Unless one decides one is not truly called to this one petitions for admission to vows and participates in a mutual discernment process because one feels called by God to embrace an ecclesial vocation. It is true that if a diocese has never professed a diocesan hermit before, or if they have not had suitable candidates they will seek to be very sure the person petitioning has clear signs of maturity and sufficient experience of eremitical solitude to be professed. The process can be a long one and, again, requires perseverance but generally people (candidate and diocesan curia) work together in a way which is relatively transparent even as it tests the candidate and her patience, her sense of eremitical call whether or not canonical standing is in her future, her ability to deal with uncertainty in solitude, etc.

It is also true, however, that diocesan personnel can certainly receive a petition from someone they almost immediately and clearly feel is not suited to this life and does not have such a vocation. In such cases the diocese may seek to find a pastoral and sensitive way to share their conclusion; this too can take time and give the impression that they are not being completely transparent or are dragging their feet. Sometimes a diocese will say, "Continue living as you are living now" in order that the fruits of that way of living can become more evident in time. In such cases they are usually open to reconsidering a petition in several years. Sometimes they will say pretty immediately, "We believe you should be more involved in your parish," or, "this does not seem to us to be the best way of using your God-given gifts," or even, "eremitical solitude seems to be unhealthy for you!" I suppose one way of rationalizing such rejections is to tell oneself the diocese does not understand or value the eremitical vocation but generally my experience is that dioceses DO value this vocation and seek to profess those with clear vocations who are both healthy, genuinely happy, and show signs that eremitical solitude is the context in which they have most clearly matured spiritually and personally.

Thirdly, while the vocation is one of essential "hiddenness from the eyes of men"  neither Canon 603 nor the CCC speak of dying into nothingness. Of course there is a significant dimension of dying to self (meaning the false or ego self!) but one does NOT become a non-entity in the process; one embraces anew the incredibly significant status of daughter or son of God in Christ (and brother or sister to all others) just as one did in Baptism and therefore comes to represent a vocation which has significant value for men and women living in the 21 C! Not least hermits proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the life and meaning which he brings to even the least and most lonely of us. It is a rich life, a joy filled one of profound (and incredibly paradoxical) relatedness to all of creation which would be meaningful simply because God calls one to it! Even so, it is significant to others and MUST be credible to others (no matter how paradoxical or counter cultural such credibility is)  because it is a proclamation of the Gospel and the redemption connected with that. The God it witnesses to must be the God of Jesus Christ who redeems the most death-dealing or isolating circumstances human beings know.

I have known (usually -- though not only -- through their writing) several so-called hermits that were either no such thing or, at best, were pretty disedifying examples of the vocation. While all of us struggle at times to live our lives well and with integrity, and while none of us are likely paragons (Merton warns about believing hermits should be perfect examples of their vocation), there are those who justify isolation or an inability (or refusal!) to take part in normal society because of mental illness, spiritual and personal eccentricity (or outright weirdness!), misanthropy, judgmentalism, individualism, self-centeredness, etc, by applying the term "hermit." But in some of these cases the impression they give in adopting the term is that solitude is really nothing more than isolation, that the only real joy found in the eremitical life is that of suffering and struggle, that the spirituality appropriate to such a vocation is some sort of pseudo-mystical misery willed by a sadistic God who may reward such pain with occasional "consolations", and that attempts to find or worship God in the ordinary world of time and space is "unspiritual". As far as I can see there is nothing of the good news of Jesus Christ in any of this and nothing credible much less exemplary therefore in such lives.

I am sorry when persons are not admitted to profession as a diocesan hermit or even to an extended period of discern-ment with their diocese; I know the pain it occasions. But at the same time I am sorrier still when those with no true vocation call themselves hermits (much less Catholic Hermits) and give scandal by living a life which is far from healthy and thus, even farther from being Christian or genuinely eremitical. Because diocesan eremitical life is an ecclesial vocation this means it must witness to the Gospel of God in Christ in the name of the Church. Standing in law, credibility, even "approval" by the hierarchy of the Church and those who benefit from the witness given are a necessary part of this vocation and its accountability to God and God's Church --- essential hiddenness notwithstanding. After all, credibility is part of ANY Christian vocation; we live our lives in response to this call so that others "may believe in Him whom you have sent." (John 6:30) If our lives and vocations lack credibility in the profound sense of imaging God's redemption, especially in the midst of suffering, then they are not Christian; they are not of God.  It seems to me, that the pious language of "being nothing" aside, only one who fails to understand the true nature, value, and responsibility of such calls could suggest otherwise.

The Silence of Solitude: Goal and Charism of the Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sr Laurel, I am trying to build more silence and solitude into my life so that I can become a hermit. You and canon 603 speak of the silence OF solitude though. What is the difference? Does this have to do with what you mean when you refer to having become a hermit in some essential way before contacting my diocese?]]

Relatively speaking I have written a lot in this blog about the silence of solitude as context, means and goal of the eremitical life. I have tried to convey how and why the phrase "the silence of solitude" an originally Carthusian term means so much more than silence AND solitude, especially merely external silence and solitude. Your question helps me build on the blog article I wrote a little while back on why my vocation is not the personification of selfishness. (cf, Notes From Stillsong, A Vocation to Selfishness?) Especially it lets me add  to what I have already said about this defining element of canon 603 and the charism of the vocation. Thank you for that. As your question notes, the silence of solitude is indeed a key to understanding what I mean when I say that someone must become a hermit in some essential way before approaching their diocese with a request to be admitted to a process of discernment, much less to public profession of eremitical vows.

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

The silence of solitude is what results when we are loved profoundly by God and are healed sufficiently to love ourselves, God, and all who are precious to God as well. When this is the case an individual stands silently alone with God, at peace, herself, free of  bondage or destructive enmeshment. She is herself but that self is a covenantal or dialogical Event with God as ground and counterpart because that is the very nature of the human self.

To understand this I think we might start by reflecting on the fact that eremitical solitude is a torment for the person who cannot love herself and therefore cannot trust or must continually contend with the inescapable love of God. Unfortunately, this is such a prevalent affliction, that the early Desert Fathers and Mothers battled demons --- usually the demons of their own hearts --- in a way which made doing so emblematic of desert spirituality. Every hermit I have ever read or spoken to knows that the torment of the hermitage stems from our own inability to love ourselves or exorcise the resultant demons of our own hearts. Whether we are speaking of the need for distractions, the inability to pray, actual violations of our vows, deviations from our Rule or excesses in penitential practices, bitterness and misanthropy, or even narcissism, the source is some form of discomfort with ourselves which, often, is a form of self-hatred. In such instances we are isolated or solitary, but the silence of solitude is far far from us.

On the other hand, every hermit I know, have read, or have spoken to, every hermit who is "the real deal" also knows in the depths of their souls that to the extent these battles have been won and their demons exorcised by the grace of God (that is, by the powerful presence of God in their lives), the silence of solitude is the result. One image of this reality comes back to me again and again. It was a picture I cut out during initial formation of two young girls sitting side by side on a curb. They were quiet, sitting in the sun, simply enjoying the brilliant day and each other and there was an aura of quiet joy about the picture; they were also sharing a Popsicle and one was handing it over to the other for her turn. For me this typifies "the silence of solitude" as well as does an image, say, of a person reading quietly or sitting silently and gratefully at a hermitage window while taking their noontime meal. In the hermit's case, however, the second young girl is God and more occasionally anyone who is precious to God.

When I speak of being a hermit in some essential sense then, I mean that one is a person who has, to some real extent, come to this quies or peace of heart marked by compassion, generosity, and relative selflessness. Further, they have been brought there by living a life of physical silence and solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, poverty and chastity, all geared to hearkening to the Word of God and they feel called to continue living in this way for the glory (revelation) of God and the salvation of others. Silence and solitude are elements contributing to a person's coming to and living out the silence OF solitude but it is the silence OF solitude which is especially characteristic of the eremitical life; it is the charism or gift hermits in particular bring to the Church and world. One may build  all kinds of silence and solitude in the physical and external senses into one's life, but it is the silence of solitude rooted in communion with God for the sake of others which is the goal and defining characteristic of the genuine hermit.

Questions on Solitude: Both a Universal and a Rare Vocation?

[[Dear Sister, you write about eremitical solitude being a rare vocation. yet you also said that it is the most universal of vocations. So which is it? How is it that human beings can be such social animals and yet you can talk about solitude as a universal call. It sounds confused to me.]]

Three Main Forms of Solitude:

Thanks for your questions. The answer to your, "Which is it?" is not either/or but, as with so many things in Christianity, both/and. Part of what seems confusing is the use of the term solitude. It has a variety of meanings and these can especially differ if one is using it to speak of solitude in a world where the Christian God is real. Three main meanings in particular are important here. I therefore refer in a lot of posts here to physical solitude, existential solitude, and eremitical solitude. In the statement you are referring to I said that solitude itself was the most universal of vocations but it is the call to eremitical solitude which is very rare.

"Solitude" can first of all be used to speak of physical solitude, the state of being physically alone. I think this is often the meaning most folks attribute to the word. A hermit, who distances herself from so much sometimes called "the world" of people and events is certainly usually alone in this sense, but so are many others.

Secondly, "solitude" can be used to speak of the individual' s relationship to the world and its creator in the more existential sense; that is, it can point to the fact that we are each and all of us ultimately alone in this life and isolated from all others despite there being many people in our lives. Theologians speak of one aspect of solitude in this sense as the result of human sinfulness and therefore, as a result of estrangement or alienation from our deepest selves, from God, and so too from others. However, another, more positive side of it is our call to grow as individuals; especially in community we are not spared this call to individuation, this call to stand as integral and independent human beings. Still this existential solitude can be painful for it highlights both our most fundamental potential and deficiency.

Each of us knows this kind of solitude which is most intense when, for instance, we have acted wrongly, we are misunderstood, have been betrayed, feel alone or separate in a crowd, or simply have something too deep, or wonderful, or simply too difficult to share with anyone else; we know it especially when we consider death and the inevitability of dying alone. Even those we love profoundly and by whom we are are loved in the same way cannot entirely relieve us of either the challenge or the burden of this kind of solitude. In fact, the paradox of this kind of solitude --- whether as a call to individuation or as the burden of separateness --- is that it is often set in most vivid relief when we are with and are loved by others. In other words, this form of solitude is both most challenging and most painful because we are made for communion with others but are ultimately separated from them.

There is a third sense however which both includes these first two forms and mitigates the ultimacy of the second meaning. It is the notion of solitude which witnesses to the fact that we are not truly (or ultimately) alone because we are made for and in fact most essentially ARE a relationship with a God who is part of us and will never forget or abandon us. While one part of the paradox of eremitical life is that we are each ultimately alone with this God and called upon to live our lives in light of this foundational "transcendental" of our existence, the other is that this ultimate communion for which we are made is the reason for our community with others. Others, as well as our solitary prayer, mediate the love of God to us and in various ways introduce us to this ultimate form of communion.

Hermits especially, embrace a life of  physical solitude which sharpens our existential solitude so that we may live a contemplative life in the eremitical solitude of conscious communion with our God; the hermit knows this form of solitude as one which encompasses, but also transcends, and finally makes an ultimate sense of the first two senses of the term solitude. Because the hermit knows union with the God who grounds the existence of all creation, she also exists in communion with all those others in some incomplete or proleptic sense. When I have written about this before I have spoken of it as a solitude which redeems isolation and which provides hope to others that their own isolation can be transformed and transfigured, and so forth.

Communion is always implied by solitude and vice versa in human relatedness:

I would ask that you notice in each of these forms of solitude the reality of community exists at least implicitly --- even if it is present as an inescapable longing and potentialilty in loneliness. Similarly, in each experience of community that we know this side of death, there is also separateness we often call "solitude." Both poles are present in every experience of relatedness or unrelatedness we know. (Communion without solitude dissolves into a loss of identity; solitude without communion is isolation. Both are inhuman.) In physical solitude community exists as something from which we are separated for whatever reason. In existential solitude community is something we yearn for, something the memory or promise of which inspires and strengthens us in our aloneness, something to which we look forward to achieving or returning to, etc. The point is that in all human relatedness community exists even in its relative absence just as while in community we stand in a kind of solitude as individuals nonetheless.

Vocations accent either side of the paradox of human solitude/communion:

The Church has a number of vocations each of which highlights a side of our call to community (as you say, our social nature) and our solitary nature as well. Marriage and most forms of Religious life point primarily to the importance of community in coming to human wholeness. Each, however also witness to the fact that ultimately it is the human relationship with God which is of deepest significance. In marriage it is the case that each person is meant to bring the other to union with God; each person mediates the Love of God to the other in ways which allow them to come to human fullness and fruitfulness together. (This is why sexual intercourse is the ultimate symbol of marital love and is open to procreation.) In religious life community exists only to the extent that each Sister or Brother is faithful to prayer and all of the other things required by a solitary relationship with God. Moreover, community empowers faithfulness to this solitary relationship. The Church herself is this kind of reality of course. She is not simply a group of people brought together in some sort of club because of similar interests. She is Church only to the extent each of her members fulfills his or her own vocation to life with God just as she is Church only to the extent she empowers and inspires this. In each of these realities community and solitude exist but the accent in each is on community.

In vocations to eremitical solitude the focus is different. It is on the solitary side of the equation. Most human beings are called to achieve human individuation and wholeness in communion with God through community with others. While hermits have already achieved an essential individuation before becoming (or even seeking to become) hermits (they could not embrace such a vocation otherwise) their growth in human wholeness and holiness occurs in eremitical solitude --- a solitude lived in communion with God for the sake of others. Very few human beings are called to achieve human wholeness and holiness in this way. Even so, they remind all persons of 1) their existential solitude, 2) the foundational communion with God which grounds and completes all human existence, 3) the place of community in even the most solitary of lives, and 4) the possibility of the redemption and reconciliation by and to God of even the most marked isolation or estrangement. At bottom then, this will always be a rare vocation and certainly always much rarer than vocations to marriage and community life.

While this answer may be longer than you expected, it is still quite a simplified presentation of the nature of solitude and especially of eremitical solitude. I hope you find it helpful in answering your question.