Showing posts with label Stricter separation from the world. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stricter separation from the world. Show all posts

01 August 2022

Why isn't it Enough. . .?? On Stricter Separation from the World (Reprise from 2008)

I received the following question via email: [[How does one determine one is called to an eremitical vocation? Why isn't it enough to be uncomfortable with the world or to desire to avoid it, and to wish to retire to solitude? Is this at least a sign of a genuine eremitical vocation?]]

In order to answer this (or at least the second part of the question, because I will need to answer the first part, the "how" question, separately), I want to first reprise what I wrote in an earlier post (cf., Post on January 14, 2008, The Unique Charism of the Diocesan Hermit) : [[One embraces eremitical silence, solitude, prayer, penance and greater separation from the world in order to spend one's life for others in this specific way. Whatever FIRST brings one to the desert (illness, loss, temperament, curiosity, a maturing need for the silence of solitude, etc) unless one learns to love God, oneself, and one's brothers and sisters genuinely and profoundly, and allows this to be the motivation for one's life, I don't think one has yet discerned, much less embraced, a call to diocesan (Canon 603) eremitism.

[[. . . let me say something here about the phrase "the world" in the above answers. Greater or stricter separation from the World implies physical separation, but not merely physical separation. Doesn't this conflict with what I said about the unique charism of the diocesan hermit? No, I don't think so. First of all, "the world" does NOT mean "the entire physical reality except for the hermitage or cell"! Instead, the term "the world" refers to those structures, realities, things, positions, values, etc which are antithetical to Christ and PROMISE FULFILLMENT or personal [dignity and] completion APART FROM GOD in Christ. Anything, including some forms of religion and piety can represent "the world" given this definition. "The world" tends to represent escape from self and God, and also escape from the deep demands and legitimate expectations others have a right to make of us as Christians. Given this understanding, some forms of "eremitism" may not represent so much greater separation from the world as they do unusually embodied capitulations to it. (Here is one of the places an individual can fool themselves and so, needs the assistance of the church to carry out an adequate and accurate discernment of a DIVINE vocation to eremitical life.)

reprise continues:

[[Not everything out in the physical world is "the World" hermits are called to greater separation from. Granted, physical separation from much of the physical world is an element of genuine solitude which makes discerning the difference easier. Still, I have seen non diocesan hermits who, in the name of "eremitical hiddenness" run from responsibilities, relationships, anything at all which could conceivably be called secular or even simply natural (as opposed to what is sometimes mistakenly called the supernatural). This is misguided, I believe, and is often more apt to point to the lack of an eremitical vocation at the present time than the presence of one.]]


The simple answer in light of what I have said before, then, is no, it is not nearly enough. We are speaking of a religious hermit --- one for whom the heart of her vocation is love, not only of God, but of all that God cherishes as well. I am interpreting your question to mean that avoidance of the world (in this case I mean the whole of reality outside the hermitage) is the dominating, even sole reason for embracing an eremitical life, that no other reason even comes close. Even if one finds oneself out of step with that world, determines she cannot fathom it, is misunderstood herself by it, and desires nothing more than to retreat from it, this is NOT the basis for an eremitical life, nor is it, all by itself, a sign of a genuine vocation. In fact, it is more likely a sign one is NOT called to such a vocation. This is especially true if one who is a novice to spirituality and eremitism takes one's sense of being out of step with the world, misunderstood by and unable to fathom it, as a sign one is radically different than it.

It is true because it neglects the simple fact that we are each and all of us part of the world, shaped and formed by it, and so, to greater and lesser extents, we carry it deeply in our own hearts, minds, and limbs. This is true whether one is speaking of the world as all of reality outside the hermitage, or "the world" in the strict monastic sense of "contemptus mundi" --- that which promises fulfillment apart from God. We carry the world within us in both senses, and of course, are called to love, transform and heal the world (in both senses) outside of the hermitage. In the negative or monastic sense of the term (that which promises fulfillment apart from God) we bring this to the hermitage in order to deal with it, to subject it to God's love and healing touch. We bring it to the hermitage not because we cannot understand it --- or it us, but because we understand it all too well and know that God's love is the only alternative to our own personal enmeshment in it. The dynamic you described is of a person running from this reality (and, in fact, from the whole of God's world), but the hermitage cannot be used to run FROM ONESELF, nor from God's good creation; it cannot be used as a place of escape but must instead be a place of confrontation and transformation, of love and healing.

To attempt to escape from the demands of the physical (spatio-temporal) world outside the "hermitage" is really to actually transform the "hermitage" into an outpost of what monasticism calls "the world." This is so because one of the signal qualities of "the world" and "worldliness" in the monastic sense is a refusal to face reality, which thus will also involve an inability to love it into wholeness. Therefore too, if the "hermitage" is merely or even mainly a refuge from all that one cannot face, understand, or deal adequately with, it has ceased to be a genuine hermitage in any Christian sense and instead is predicated on the very values of distraction, avoidance, escape, and inability to face forthrightly or love truly or deeply that which constitutes "the world". It is itself an instance of that very same world, an outpost of it and no true hermitage. To bring "the world" into the hermitage in this sense is far and away more dangerous and destructive than bringing in aspects of it openly and cautiously like TV, movies, news programs, computer, etc --- and we know how assiduously careful we must be about (and even generally resistant to) these latter inclusions!

There is a reason hermitages have been characterized as places of battle, as crucibles as well as oases of God's peace. Above all they are the places where, in the clear light of God's truth and love, one is asked to confront the demons one carries within oneself. Thomas Merton once wrote that the purpose of the hermitage was to allow a hermit to face the falseness, and distortions in oneself: "the first function of the hermitage is to relax and heal and to smooth out one's distortions and inhumanities." This is true, he says, because the mission of the solitary in the world is, "first the full recovery of man's natural and human measure." The hermit "reminds (others) of what is theirs to use if they can manage to extricate themselves from the web of myths and fixations which a highly artificial society has imposed on them." However, Merton knew all too well that the battle is waged inside the hermitage as well. One cannot witness to a world one refuses to understand as though one were really all that different from it. One cannot do so because one has not dealt with "the world" one carries deep within oneself, and which, in fact, one IS until one has been completely remade by God's love.

By the way, it is, of course, true that the hermit comes to love the solitude and silence of her hermitage, and she desires to be there, to go about her daily routine, to do all the small and large tasks and chores that come as part of the life there. A certain degree of discomfort with the world outside the hermitage will exist since she wants always to get back to the sacred space of silence and solitude which is her cell. However, and I cannot emphasize this enough, when she is outside the hermitage, she is completely capable of relating empathetically to others and so, understanding them and what drives them; she is able to delight in this world to the extent it is evidence of God's creativity and wonder, and to care deeply for it when it falls short of that glory. These people, places, and things are given her to love, to cherish in so far as they are God's own, and in so far as they possess the potential, no matter how yet-profoundly-unrealized, to mediate God's presence and love. This is a world the hermit knows to be very like herself in every way. Her vocation may be unique, but she is not. To the degree she is really a hermit she carries these persons, places, and things with her back to the hermitage to continue to love them, to pray for them, and also to let them love and shape her own life to the degree that is appropriate.

In NO WAY is the hermitage an escape from the world in this sense. It is the place from which the hermit lives to allow God's presence greater intensity and scope so that he might one day be "all in all" as the Pauline phrase goes. Again, this all gets back to what I said at the beginning: The basis for the eremitical life must be love; it cannot be escape. We are called to greater separation from the world only because love requires distance as well as closeness. But we embrace this separation in order that we may allow God's love full rein and scope, first in our own lives, and then, in the lives of all those others for whom we live.

25 March 2022

Finding a Constructive Way Forward: An Invitation to Clarify Disputed Points --- with Addendum


  [[I do not make statements for the heck of it or without sound reason and facts, in addition to on-point metaphors. The one/s who try to negate or weigh in on what I share, with their gotcha-intentions, do a disservice to whomever reads their misinformation on this topic in particular. They lead people potentially to think of themselves in deceived ways, which may at some point embarrass themselves to others and blind them and keep themselves from seeking deeper forms of prayer; and thus, hinder themselves from becoming great contemplatives, their minds, hearts, and souls closer to His Real Presence, which is something we all should desire and of which I myself desire very much.]] Excerpt from Blog post  23 March.2022, (Catholic Christian Mystic Hermit blog)

Dear MC [name removed after receipt of email was acknowledged], I think then we are both trying to make well-grounded arguments or well-justified positions (rather than aggressive assertions) without [documented] reasons that can be evaluated by readers. Keeping that in mind I sincerely hope you will supply citations from David Knowles' book (What is Mysticism?) as well as something by Bernard McGinn, perhaps, and other experts to support your positions, especially regarding the following points where we seem to disagree so completely. (cf numbered items below.)  I am asking, in particular, that you provide an actual citation (at least the page numbers and chapter) from Knowles' work where he explains that mystics are born, not made (by God), and, if possible, that you define the term "mystic" as cogently as you can. That would also be genuinely helpful moving forward. 

Also, let me say directly that I think you profoundly misunderstand my positions and my posts on this subject if you believe I have suggested that mystical prayer itself is not a deeper form of contemplative prayer (specifically, mystical prayer = forms of infused contemplation), or that union with God, which is the very heart of mystical prayer, is not something every person is created for and called to even as it is a profound and immediate gift of God's very Self.  Please note that "immediate gift of God's very self" precludes one from believing one can achieve this on their own so I am certainly not misleading people into thinking they can become mystics on their own. 

If you believe that I am saying God can make people into mystics (ordinarily in conjunction with their long dedication to and practice of prayer) then you are correct. I am saying that God can do that, that he wills to do that, and that he does do it today as in other centuries. I sincerely ask that you review all that I have written and see what I have actually said. Especially, you should be aware that I teach that every person is called or invited to the heights/depths of contemplative prayer including even the prayer of union, and I always encourage folks to open themselves to experiencing the heights and depths of prayer they never imagined were open to them. I certainly have no intention of hindering  anyone from becoming great contemplatives and mystics.

The major points on which we apparently disagree are: 

  1.  that mystics are born, and perhaps on what a mystic is then. 
  2. that mysticism is an affliction (which is not precisely the same as saying it is a great grace that can involve intense suffering) and that it should not be celebrated much less desired, and, 
  3. that the term mystical prayer is nonsensical rather than a richly meaningful term, as you asserted in your post of 23. March (cf provided link). 

For my part I have affirmed that:

  1. mystics are not born, though every person is created for and called to some significant degree of union with God here in this life as well as after death. The notion that there is some sort of dialogue between God and a pre-existent soul where he asks them if they will be a mystic seems to me to be very bad theology and Christian anthropology both. Fortunately, Emmerich's ideas on this are not part of the Church's own teaching and we are not obliged to affirm them. 
  2.  that mysticism is most fundamentally a very great grace, indeed the fulfillment of a life of grace (and so, of prayer) which can occasion intense suffering as well as profound joy and a peace in which even one's sufferings can be lived with real equanimity and even more than equanimity. While I appreciate your clarification of what you meant by calling mysticism (i.e., what a mystic practices) an "affliction", the fact that you claim mystics pray to be normal seems to me to support understanding the term "affliction" in the more questionable sense you are now distancing yourself from. Add to that the fact that you chose to use two actual neurological disorders in your comparison; this leads to the sense that "praying to be normal" doesn't mean simply desiring to be a bit more ordinary. It also seems to me to sever the connection between something being God's doing in our lives (always first of all a grace even if we are unable to perceive it readily) and I still find your comparison inapt. Maybe you simply chose badly and want to retract the comparison?
  3. that the term mystical prayer is meaningful and is used by Prof Knowles in the book you yourself recommended the day before yesterday, and of course, by many others throughout the history of the Church and its reflection on "mystical theology".  
  4. that certain secondary or accidental qualities (visions, locutions, levitation, reading souls, stigmata, etc., etc.) are not the essence of mysticism or the mystical life, and further that the theology of God as Absolute Mystery (not some reference to mystery cults) is the genuine source of the traditional sense of "mystical prayer", mystical path, and related terms within Roman Catholicism and Christianity more generally. We call prayer mystical precisely because it is caused immediately by and involves the pray-er in an immediate experience of the Absolute Mystery we know as God. Some writers contrast this with ascetical or acquired contemplation, which is about what one does with one's own heart and mind (raising one's heart or mind to God, for instance). I am not sure what your position is on any of this because as far as I am aware, you haven't provided a definition of a mystic.
Please consider this a sincere invitation and feel free to email me with any material you believe will be helpful to me or to readers of this blog in clarifying disputed points or points of misunderstanding. I will be happy to post any substantive response here and give you full credit and my gratitude for taking the time to do so. In the meantime, in the interests of mutual respect and transparency, I am emailing a copy of this invitation and clarification to you directly as well as posting it here. Thanks for your attention.

All my best.
Sister Laurel O'Neal, Er Dio

ADDENDUM:

MC was unable (i.e., she declined) to supply either the definition of mystic she uses, or the location in What is Mysticism? of Dom Knowles' position that mystics are born not made. Disappointing, but not a problem. I was able to glean a couple of things from her responses and blogs which differ from my own and traditional understandings which do not need to be detailed here except to note that she and I are talking about two different realities when we use the word mystic. Maybe more important was the fact that the invitation led to input from other sources which helped clarify David Knowles' position. (Dom Knowles was a British Benedictine Church Historian, so others who know and admire his work have supplied summaries of his positions.) Here is what I learned: 
  1. Knowles does not say mystics are born rather than made. Like many, Knowles accepts infused contemplation/mystical prayer is a gift of God, not merely acquired by long work in prayer (though he clearly believes such prayer can dispose one towards receiving this greatest of gifts). It is sui generis and not induced by acts of the will, stands distinct from what is sometimes called "acquired contemplation" because it is infused as a gift of God, and finds its closest approximation in what is called the "prayer of simplicity". But in this Dom Knowles is restating the Carmelite positions of SS. Teresa and John of the Cross. Even so, he is not saying mystics are born.
  2. Dom Knowles also considers markers or accidental qualities like visions and locutions, things to which, he contends, psychologists of religion give disproportionate attention, [[to be confined to the initial and immature stages of the mystical way.]] (Here he is speaking of "stages" falling short of full union with God. As he also pointed out however re Teresa of Avila, the saint refers to beginners in prayer as all those whose prayer falls short of complete union with God. In other words, that would include all of us up to and through the prayer of quiet so we should certainly not necessarily take the terms "immature" or "beginner" in common, much less pejorative, senses.) Again, Prof. Knowles seems to be in agreement with St Teresa and the general Carmelite tradition in such things. By the way, Dom Knowles also seems to be in agreement with the contemporary Ruth Burrows (Sister Miriam, OCD) regarding the place of mystical experiences in the life of grace/prayer.
  3. The related terms mystical prayer, mystical path, and mystic are profoundly meaningful terms rather than being nonsensical for Knowles, Teresa, John of the Cross, Elizabeth of the Trinity, and the entire Carmelite family even when there are differences in labeling the dimensions of the life of grace/prayer which all find difficult to speak of. 
Just a note: I am working on a post which links this discussion with yesterday's consecration of Ukraine and Russia which Pope Francis requested and the way we observed it at daily liturgy in my parish yesterday. It also ties in profoundly to the role of contemplative prayer and/or the mystical path in achieving peace in our world and draws from my own prayer re the consecration and reading I have been doing about contemplative prayer/mysticism in Thomas Merton. 

For instance, it is absolutely fascinating to me how it is a mystic's infused contemplation takes them out of this world and out of any dependence on self to dependence on God alone precisely so they can live in this world, as a source of peace. The very thing that seems to make mystics/contemplatives stand apart and marks their experiences in prayer as incommunicable and uncommon, recreates and sends them back to "the world" as those who can encounter it as prophetic missionaries of peace and wholeness. It is the same dynamic which stands at the heart of eremitical life's "stricter separation from the world" and something I have been writing about for many years now. As a friend and colleague -- another diocesan hermit -- joyfully affirmed when, among other things, we spoke about Elizabeth of the Trinity, contemplation, and eremitical life, last week, [[It is all about encounter!!]] So, more about this in a bit (I hope!).

03 March 2022

On Excommunicated Hermits and Stricter Separation from the World

[[Dear Sister Laurel, in 2020 you wrote about three hermits who had been excommunicated. In your article the reporter whose article you criticized said that the three were not trying to build bridges to the world but rather to escape from it, cf., Excommunicated Hermits. You also wrote recently that CICLSAL has produced a guidance document for c 603 hermits which says clearly that hermits are not fleeing the world and you used the word escapist. You said hermits are not escapist (cf., Purpose of Stricter Separation from the World.) I have always heard monastics speaking of fleeing the world or embracing something called "contemptus mundi" which I believe means contempt for the world. So, here's my question: do you see yourself and other c 603 hermits trying to build bridges to the world outside your hermitage? Don't you embrace a kind of "contemptus mundi" in separating yourself as you do? I want to suggest that those hermits of [in] Scotland had the right idea in fleeing from place to place. You would disagree, wouldn't you?]]

Thanks for your thoughtful questions. I have added links to the posts you refenced. I think I have answered a lot of what you ask about in the following post: Stricter Separation: Loving the World into Wholeness, so I would ask that you take a look at this post and especially, that you pay attention to the different ways the term "the world" can be used. We need to be clear that there are several different usages of the term and not confuse one for the other. For instance, the world the hermit separates herself from is not primarily the world of God's good creation; instead, it is a constellation [[of attitudes, values, perspectives, and priorities which live in a hermit's heart just as they live in the hearts of others]] and constitute a kind of widespread and typical pattern of vision and inner reality.  

In this view of things, because these patterns of values, perspectives, and attitudes are deeply inculcated within each of us, and because they are often-unconscious lenses through which we view reality, closing the hermitage door merely shuts one inside with "the world" one needs to separate oneself from more assiduously. Doing so can provide a false sense that one has done what one needs to do in "leaving the world" and this inaccurate sense may grow into or foster a kind of sense of spiritual superiority in the hermit. Additionally, it can lead to a self-centered spirituality focused merely on one's own perfection or salvation, rather than on a holiness which at every point, serves and is meant to serve the needs of a world often bereft of love and wholeness. Nothing could be more "worldly" in fact.

If you look at the behavior of the three Scottish "hermits" as outlined in the NCR article I wrote about (please note, there are other, entirely legitimate hermits in Scotland), what you find is distinctly "worldly" behavior. They have a habit of making themselves "unwelcome and getting in trouble". While supposedly more strictly separated from "the world" they engage in provocative acts of judgmentalism that are hurtful and meant to be so. While there is a legitimate prophetic or "truth-telling" dimension to eremitical life, this is not it. When their bishops (more than one apparently) have tried "numerous times" to break them up, they have resisted and eventually gotten themselves thrown out of the diocese(s). I have to tell you how rare such problems are with genuine hermits. An actual pattern of offensive and disedifying behavior in genuine hermits is even more rare. 

Other things strike me as "worldly" with regard to the three persons in the NCR article. Despite no longer having a right to wear a Capuchin habit, one of the hermits continues to do so and one wonders why. He is not witnessing to canonical eremitical standing nor an ecclesial vocation, nor to religious poverty or consecration by God --- and there are certainly poorer and simpler ways to dress. Why could he not let this go as he ought to have done when he left the congregation that extended this right to him? And then there is the glee, first at excommunication and then at the amounts of correspondence and financial aid flowing their way as a result!!! These "hermits" are not victims of the "mean old" institutional Church --- and yet they are excited to benefit from those seeing and treating them in this way! None of this sounds anything but profoundly "worldly" to me.

I am not sure I would describe my life as one of building bridges to the world around me, but I accept my responsibility to witness to that world, and also to "the world" I am to be more strictly separated from --- that constellation of attitudes, values, and perspectives which really distort the way we see and relate to God, ourselves, and God's good creation. One other element of c 603 is that this life is to be lived "for the salvation of others"; that requires engagement on behalf of God and his good creation even as it requires freedom from enmeshment in all that distorts it. There may be some tension between these two elements of the canon, but they certainly don't conflict. That is especially true as I understand that the really critical dimensions of my life, the dimensions that define me as a person and hermit, are hidden from others and that even to the extent my life is of witness value it is hidden in Christ. So, while I don't try to build bridges with the world around me in any focused or concerted way, and while there are very real and necessary limitations in my engagement with the world, that engagement is still very real and motivated by my life in Christ.

If the term "contemptus mundi" can be understood in terms of turning away from attitudes, values, and perspectives which are typical of contemporary life and serve to distort the way we see and behave toward God and God's good creation, then yes, I embrace it. In some ways I work hard to free myself from or allow myself to be healed of the woundedness which contributes to the personal and common lenses which so distort the way I/we see and relate to reality. I recognize that Christian life, and certainly eremitical life within that, is one of freedom from this kind of enmeshment. I definitely work hard to allow Christ to be primary in my life so that I can say with Paul, "I, yet not I but Christ in me. . .". Even so, "contemptus mundi" seems to me to invite misunderstanding as it is wrapped in several layers of mystifying language: a Semitic sense of the term hatred** (see below), now translated into Latin and combined with a Greek and Johannine term (mundi) with at least three significantly different senses in the Gospel writer's work. Besides the fact that c 603 does not use this phrase, I usually don't use it for this reason.

Finally, I have a strong appreciation for the Benedictine value (and vow) of stability. This means I appreciate that where I am (diocese, parish, hermitage) has all I need to grow in holiness, and I am committed to seeking God (letting God find and be present to me in all the ways God chooses to do that) here. Yes, there are good reasons sometimes to move elsewhere, but a pattern of frenetic mobility, especially if it is occasioned by getting oneself in trouble and making oneself unwelcome wherever one goes, is contrary to Benedictine stability (and several other Christian values as well)! The evolving world the Scottish trio of would-be hermits are trying to escape is the world they are called to witness to. Meanwhile, in their attitudes and values, for instance, they seem to be ever more deeply enmeshed in the world they should be more strictly separated from! A genuine hermitage in the midst of such a world is, like the Carthusian image, a still point in the midst of sin's roiling disorder. My own sense is that these three apparent misanthropes (it is hard to see what or who they actually love beyond themselves), to the extent they cannot embrace such a stability, are not seeking God, but are running from precisely the place in which he is surely to be found. I think the Incarnation tells us that.

I hope this is helpful!

** In the NT Semitism the idea of "hating," as in Luke 14:26, is a comparative term and has to be understood as "love less". When Luke says, [[If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple,]] he is saying a disciple must prefer Jesus to or love Jesus more than all these others. Perhaps an even better way to say it would be, [[You must love me first and best, and all else and all others only in and through your love for me.]] If we are given a choice, Jesus or our own life (and so forth), the choice must be for Jesus and the One who sent him. [[Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and all these. . .will be added unto you.]]

27 February 2022

Purpose of Stricter Separation from the World

I have received an email asking a question I wrote about in 2011, so I am reposting this response here. I am hoping it leads to further questions, not least, those that will help to clarify the validity of stricter separation from "the world" in an eremitical life. I am thinking about a couple of sentences in a new document from CICLSAL re c 603 I believe this begins to address: [[The hermit who distances [herself] from the world does not flee out of fear or contempt. [She] lived in the world and is called, Christianly, to seek to love it and to look at it with the eyes and the love that God revealed to us in Jesus. . .one separates oneself from the world to save it, one moves away to integrate it. The exterior become interior, the distant becomes near, the excluded is desired included. This is why separating does not mean fleeing.]] par 24 The Hermit Life Form in the Particular Church. "Guidance" CICLSAL, 2022.


[Dear Sister, what is the purpose of "stricter separation from the world" in your life? You have mentioned it as an element of hermit life, but I really don't get it. The Sisters I know are deeply involved in this world and it seems to me it is what Christ was all about. Can you help me understand?]]

Great question! I have written a little about stricter separation from the world, especially what it does and doesn't mean, so I would invite you to check out labels leading to those articles for additional thoughts. But you are correct, I have not really written about the purpose of stricter separation, nor have I spoken explicitly about the validity of this approach in spirituality --- which does indeed seem rather different from Jesus' usual way of doing things. In fact, "stricter separation from the world" was not something I would have chosen myself without circumstances which led me to understand it differently than I did as a young Sister. As your own comment suggests, at first or second glance, it hardly seems to comport with a Christian perspective which honors the incarnation and the sanctity of all creation in Christ. For me it always sounded selfish and lacking in charity --- not to mention in generosity!

It is important to remember that separation from the world means first of all separation from that which is resistant or uncongenial to Christ, and that it involves detachment from that which promises fulfillment, meaning, and hope apart from him and the God he mediates. This sense of the term "world" refers to anything which is untrue, distorted, resistant to life, to love, and to all the rest of the values which constitute life in God. But it is not God's good creation, therefore, from which we mainly separate ourselves. It is "the world" of falsehood, chaos, and meaninglessness, and this means that it is not something distinct existing merely outside of ourselves, but instead a reality which is intimately related to the darkness, woundedness, distortions, and sclerosis (hardness) of our own hearts.

Keeping this in mind, there are several reasons then for embracing stricter separation from the world. The first is that such separation distances us from the constant reinforcement of values, behaviors, expectations, and so forth which bombard us otherwise. Consider all the things we each see every day that tell us who we are and must be --- despite the fact that almost none of them are consistent with the values of the Kingdom of God! The second reason has to do with allowing ourselves the space and time --- and the silence and solitude --- to meet ourselves without all the supports, props, and distractions of "the world." It is hard to see ourselves for who we really are otherwise. Once the props are down or removed, we come to experience our own poverty. When we are not measuring (and in fact CANNOT measure) success, integrity, fruitfulness, etc., according to the terms constituting, "the world" we come face to face with what we are really all about. So, the first part of stricter separation is all about reality checks. Conversion, after all, requires confrontation with truth.

The third and most fundamental reason for stricter separation from the world is to allow the space and time needed for a meeting with God. If our hearts (and so, our very selves) are, in part, darkened, distorted, sclerosed and untrue, they are also the place where God bears witness to himself and the truth of who we are. All the elements of the eremitical life, including stricter separation, are geared towards the meeting (and eventually, union) with God which verifies (makes true), heals, and brings to fullness of life. It is in this meeting that we learn how precious we are despite our very real human poverty, here that we learn how constant and secure God's love, here that we begin to have a sense of what we are really capable of and meant for. It is in this meeting with God that we come to know genuine freedom, come to experience an imperishable hope, and are commissioned to go out to others to summon them to something similar.

There is a fourth reason for stricter separation from the world then. We must step away from the distorted perspectives and values that constitute "the world" in order to love it better. We leave it in order to be made capable of affirming the deeper truth and beauty of the world around us. We come to know everything in God and that leads us to see with God's eyes. Hermits assume a marginal place so that they may also serve a prophetic function by speaking the truth in a way that affirms the world's deepest and truest reality. It will also summon to conversion. Stricter separation from "the world" allows us to love God's world into wholeness. It is a servant of true engagement and commitment. Stricter separation from "the world" is a tool for loving the whole of God's creation; it is neither escapist nor selfish and cannot be allowed to devolve into these. Abba Evagrius said it this way, [[The monk is someone who separates himself from all so that he can be united to all.]] Treatise on Prayer #124.

But why a LIFE of stricter separation from the world? Hermits witness to separation from the world as a basic dynamic assisting us to come to the freedom that results from being the person God makes us to be. The hermit reminds us again and again of the primacy of the foundational relationship that grounds our being, and of the task of individuation it summons us to achieve on a day-by-day basis for the whole of our lives. We are made for life with God and we are made for a life loving the whole of God's creation. That requires some separation from the world and the rejection of enmeshment with it. Hermits say this particularly clearly with their lives.

31 August 2021

On the Beauty and Depth of Canon 603

[[Sister Laurel, I wondered why you write about canon 603 now, so many years after you have been professed. It sounds to me like you believe it is important to hermits even after they have been consecrated. I realize that the canon describes what is necessary to be admitted to canonical standing, and I get you might want to be writing for those interested in becoming diocesan hermits, but is there something more to it than that? Once you're admitted under a law, why concern yourself with the law? I wondered if you could explain that. By the way, your anniversary of profession is coming up isn't it? Congratulations!]]

Good to hear from you; it has been a while!! Interesting observations and question!  Yes, I continue to write about canon 603 for one particular reason; namely, it is not merely a canon allowing for admission to profession and consecration (as historically and ecclesially important as this is); the canon prescribes a profound and often unimagined way of life constituted by the central elements named therein. Many mistakenly treat these elements as though they are obvious and easily understood and lived. For instance, poverty, chastity, and obedience seem clear enough. So do "Stricter separation from the world", "assiduous prayer and penance" and "the silence of solitude". That one is required to write a Rule of life may seem a requirement anyone can easily accomplish, and dioceses routinely send folks off to do this without instructions or assistance -- fully expecting they will be able to succeed at the task, but this is not so easy really. 

Beneath the words of the canon in this element and in all the others, however, there are worlds the hermit is called and will need to explore, embrace, and embody in order to truly be a canon 603 hermit. The canon supplies, in significant ways, the windows to these worlds. Because I petitioned to be admitted to profession under this canon and because the Church professed, consecrated, and commissioned me to do so, I am living and exploring this particular eremitical life; gradually I have come to know or at least glimpse the depths of the life prescribed by the canon --- even when I have not lived into them as fully as I am yet called to. 

 As a corollary, I have come to know many of the depths of the canon itself. I write about canon 603 now 14 years after perpetual profession and consecration because, from within this life, I continue to see new things in the canon --- things Diocesan bishops and Vicars for Religious (who often know very little about such a life or canon 603 itself) need to see, things candidates need to have a sense of as they approach mutual discernment and formation in this call, and things those professed under canon 603 are also committed to exploring. Especially, I continue to write about canon 603 because, from within this life, I have always perceived a beauty about it and the way it blends non-negotiable elements with the freedom and flexibility of a solitary life lived for the sake of others in response to the Holy Spirit. It both demands and allows for profound eremitical experience before profession and it both calls for and empowers even greater depth and breadth in living this life thereafter. You see, it is not just the single elements of the canon nor their apparently "obvious" meanings that are important -- though of course they are crucial. It is what is implicit and profound in them and in the fabric they weave together that is also critical to appreciating canon 603. 

This kind of appreciation is important not just for the hermit herself, but also for dioceses seeking to use the canon appropriately and for canonists whose tendency is to want to add additional requirements and legislative elements to the canon before admitting anyone to profession. More and more I have come to see that these added elements are unnecessary, not only because eremitical life itself doesn't need them, but because canon 603 itself does not. Of course, in coming to appreciate the beauty I referred to above, and the surprising adequacy or sufficiency of the canon, one must be open to seeing there what is more than superficial or even more than significantly explicit.

 Let me give you an example. The canon requires the solitary hermit to write her own Rule. However, it doesn't explicitly define the nature of the Rule and whether it will function as law, Gospel, law and Gospel (or Gospel and law); will it be primarily or wholly a list of do's and don'ts, limitations and permissions, or will it provide a vision of the life the hermit is committing to live with whatever that requires? Nor does c 603 explicitly require that it be a liveable Rule which may only come to be after the hermit has written at least several drafts. And yet both of these, rooted in the hermit's lived-experience and long-reflection, must be understood as called for by canon 603. Another example is the central element, "stricter separation from the world." What does it really mean? What does it call for from the hermit? I have written a lot about this element of the canon over the past decade and more, so I won't repeat all that here, but where in the canon does it speak of freedom from enmeshment with falsity, freedom for truth and honest engagement with and on behalf of God's good creation? These words are never used and yet, these are part, perhaps even the heart of what this element of ''stricter separation'' refers to.

Nor is it just a matter of getting under the superficial or common usage of the terms involved. One needs to begin to see the way they are related to one another and help in the weaving of a single reality. Both of the elements just noted, the requirement that the hermit write her own Rule and stricter separation from the world, demand the hermit engage in a process of growth and maturation in Christ specifically as a canon 603 or diocesan hermit. Moreover, the canon provides a vision of consecrated solitary eremitical life in the Church. Each element contributes to this vision, including those in both 603.1 and 603.2. At the same time, in service to the incarnation of this vision in an individual's life, canon 603 provides the means for a process of discernment and formation, both initial and ongoing, even though this process is not explicit in the text of the canon

The requirement that a hermit write a liveable Rule confronts everyone with the needs for adequate discernment and formation. But how is this achieved? Do we need more canons? Must we borrow from canonical norms established (wisely and appropriately) for other and less individual forms of religious life? Again, I find canon 603 beautiful and perhaps surprising in its sufficiency here: what is implicit in the requirement that the hermit write her own Rule is the fact that an adequate process of discernment and formation can be structured according to the hermit's growing abilities and capacities to write a liveable Rule of life that is true to canon 603's vision of solitary eremitical lifeWriting a liveable Rule of Life is not simply one element of the canon among others; it is the culmination of a process of reflection, prayer, study, and personal growth in Christ (and thus, in all the other elements of the canon) it itself guides and crystalizes. 

A hermit engaging in the writing of a liveable Rule will require accompaniment and assistance (a very small formation team, for instance), but the process envisioned here can be relatively simple and effective in guiding the diocese working with a candidate for profession, and certainly it is respectful of the freedom required by both the hermit and the Holy Spirit in shaping and deepening this specific vocation. Best, it grows organically from (or is implicit in) the requirements of canon 603 itself.

To return more directly to your questions. Canon 603 is certainly a norm by which the Church recognizes, governs, and thus perpetuates solitary consecrated hermits. It is associated with canonical (legal) rights and obligations which bind the hermit. It defines the nature of the diocesan hermit's life and so, provides the central elements which mark this definition. It is here, however, that canon 603 becomes something more than most canons because it is associated with a vision of the solitary eremitical life and a vision is not only about what is seen, but about the underlying mystery which grounds, inspires, and is to be manifested in the lives of those living under this canon. 

I believe that the authors of c 603 wrote something rich, perhaps richer than they knew. Canon 603 is a window opening onto Mystery; the mystery of eremitical life, of God and the way human beings are verified (made true) in communion with God, the mystery of the way even the most isolated life can be redeemed in solitude, and the mystery of the way even human and Divine solitude always imply community. Because all of this and more is true, because canon 603 is not a once-used now-essentially-irrelevant law (unless of course, one transgresses it!) but something far more, I continue to reflect on, pray with, and write about c 603.

Postscript: Yes, it's a big week for me. I mark my birthday on September 1st, and celebrate the anniversary of my perpetual profession under c 603, the next day, 2nd Sept. Thanks for asking!

29 August 2021

On Stricter Separation from the World as a Call to Love the World into Wholeness (Reprise)

[[Sister Laurel, I was asked where the "stricter" in "stricter separation from the world," comes from in canon 603.  Does it mean stricter than cloistered communities, stricter than other religious, stricter than other forms of consecrated life generally? I also was thinking about the idea of "the world" in the phrase in the canon. Doesn't this involve a kind of judgment (judgmentalism) on the world around the hermit? Because I take seriously the admonition not to judge others I wonder if Jesus would have condemned such an approach to something God created and Jesus  made new through his death and resurrection. Can you speak to this? ]]

In my understanding, the reference to "stricter separation from the world" in canon 603 is an intensification of c 607.3. That section of canon 607 reads: "The public witness to be rendered by religious to Christ and to the Church entails a separation from the world proper to the character and purpose of each institute." [Emphasis added]  Generally speaking hermits living under c 603 are called and obliged to live a separation which is stricter than that of other religious. Hermit's vows (or other sacred bonds) will qualify their relationship with the world in terms of wealth, relationships, and power (poverty, chastity, and obedience) but will, in conjunction with their Rule of life and the other requirements of canon 603, do so even more strictly than those of other religious. In particular, the hermit's ministry or apostolate will be very different because in the main it is a matter of being sent into the hermitage in the ministry of prayer and not out in active ministry. I don't think it means more strictly than cloistered religious, however, because hermits are self-supporting and responsible for interfacing with her local, parish, and diocesan communities --- and even with the more extended support community I mentioned in a previous post.

I don't think the requirement regarding stricter separation from the world is a form of judgmentalism but it does require significant discernment on what, when, and how one will give one's heart to things -- first to God and then to all that is precious to God. Stricter separation from "the world" is meant to allow one to love and/or be loved by God in a way which leads to conversion and sanctification -- that is to authentic humanity -- and in light of that, to love all that God loves in a similar way. 

It is always important to remember, I think, that "the world" in canon 603 does not mean "everything outside the hermitage door" -- nor does it exclude dimensions of the hermitage itself as though "the world" is not present there as well. "The world" is a collection of attitudes, values, perspectives, and priorities which live in a hermit's heart just as they live in the hearts of others. Perhaps these have been more or less changed through the context of the silence of solitude and, more importantly, through assiduous prayer and penance, but they remain deeply inculcated and closing the hermitage door, especially when done while naively believing one has shut "the world" out, merely makes the hermitage an outpost of "the world".

As noted in earlier posts, The Handbook on Canons 573-746, notes that "the world" refers to "that which is not redeemed or open to the salvific action of Christ". I have added other dimensions to this definition: 'anything which promises fulfillment apart from Christ," for instance. Thomas Merton  warns against hypostasizing "the world" and sees it in terms of illusion which should be unmasked; it is that which has become a lie and which needs to be seen for what it is.** (see below) We do that when we see all of reality with the eyes of God, and that means seeing all of reality with the eyes of love, just as I noted in my homily for the Solemnity of Ascension.  What it does not mean is God's good creation generally. For that reason, the hermit does not reject the world outside the hermitage, nor even that which is antithetical to Christ. Instead her silence and solitude (i.e., her life with and in God) allows her to see things as they are and to help love them into wholeness. Stricter separation from the world is done for the sake of the hermit's capacity to see clearly and to love truly and deeply. This includes learning to see herself clearly and learning to love herself rightly and profoundly. 

So again, no, I don't think stricter separation from the world represents a form of judgmentalism any more than a physician's diagnosis in order to treat a disorder represents a form of judgmentalism. For the hermit, stricter separation from the world, means disentangling ourselves from all kinds of forms of enmeshment so we may see properly and love profoundly into wholeness. This is what I meant when I said it required significant discernment on what, how, and when we would give our hearts to things. I hope this is clear. So much spiritual writing treats "the world" as anything outside the hermitage, convent, or monastery doors or walls. But this is just careless and dangerous thinking. It neglects the very real dimensions of the human heart which are worldly and on which one cannot simply shut the hermitage door; it also neglects the Great Commandment of love and the profound relationship a hermit (for instance) must have with the world around the hermitage, especially in the silence of solitude -- as paradoxical as that sounds.

I agree with you that Jesus would condemn many writings that speak of "the world" as though it is a distinct objective thing outside a religious house. Especially I agree that Jesus would condemn any way of seeing God's good creation which ignores the victory of the cross over sin and death and over the powers and principalities of this world. We are challenged every day not to ignore "the world" but to see it clearly, to transform it with love, and thereby to eventually win its allegiance to Christ -- even if that allegiance is anonymous. Love provides the kind of unmasking which humbles without humiliating; it raises reality to its true dignity, and it allows the deep meaning possessed by reality to come through without idolizing this world or dimensions of it. It provides the lens through which we can see things truly and value them rightly. I think Jesus saw reality in this way and we who profess that we are in and of him, must be able to demonstrate that we have the capacity to see reality in the same way. 

Hermits separate ourselves more strictly from the larger world in order to cultivate this way of seeing, this way of loving. We do it so that we can be remade into a dimension of the heart of the Church; where others who share in the love of God in Christ are meant to be Jesus' hands and feet, hermits stand hidden and yet present as a representation of Jesus' own sacred heart. Once we think of ourselves in this way, stricter separation from the world will never again mean a sterile, much less judgmental, disengagement from the world. Instead it will be a new and paradoxical way of being engaged so the world may truly be and become all God calls it to be. Stricter separation from "the world" is about love for the world of God's great and creative goodness; it is not about "contemptus mundi" except to the degree we reject the ways the world itself has been falsified by human idolatry. It is this falsification (and the distorted human heart that created it) that must be unmasked, and this, it seems to me (and to Thomas Merton, I think) is the work of the hermit and her hermitage. 

** And for anyone who has seriously entered into the medieval Christian. . . conception of contemptus mundi [hatred for or of the world],. . .it will be evident that this means not the rejection of a reality, but the unmasking of an illusion. The world as pure object is not there. it is not a reality outside us for which we exist. . . It is only in assuming full responsibility for our world, for our lives, and for ourselves that we can be said to live really for God." Thomas MertonContemplation in a World of Action.

21 May 2021

On Stricter Separation From the World as a Call to Love the World into Wholeness

[[Sister Laurel, I was asked where the "stricter" in "stricter separation from the world," comes from in canon 603.  Does it mean stricter than cloistered communities, stricter than other religious, stricter than other forms of consecrated life generally? I also was thinking about the idea of "the world" in the phrase in the canon. Doesn't this involve a kind of judgment (judgmentalism) on the world around the hermit? Because I take seriously the admonition not to judge others I wonder if Jesus would have condemned such an approach to something God created and Jesus  made new through his death and resurrection. Can you speak to this? ]]

In my understanding, the reference to "stricter separation from the world" in canon 603 is an intensification of c 607.3. That section of canon 607 reads: "The public witness to be rendered by religious to Christ and to the Church entails a separation from the world proper to the character and purpose of each institute." [Emphasis added]  Generally speaking hermits living under c 603 are called and obliged to live a separation which is stricter than that of other religious. Hermit's vows (or other sacred bonds) will qualify their relationship with the world in terms of wealth, relationships, and power (poverty, chastity, and obedience) but will, in conjunction with their Rule of life and the other requirements of canon 603, do so even more strictly than those of other religious. In particular, the hermit's ministry or apostolate will be very different because in the main it is a matter of being sent into the hermitage* in the ministry of prayer and not out in active ministry. I don't think it means more strictly than cloistered religious, however, because hermits are self-supporting and responsible for interfacing with her local, parish, and diocesan communities --- and even with the more extended support community I mentioned in a previous post.

I don't think the requirement regarding stricter separation from the world is a form of judgmentalism but it does require significant discernment on what, when, and how one will give one's heart to things -- first to God and then to all that is precious to God. Stricter separation from "the world" is meant to allow one to love and/or be loved by God in a way which leads to conversion and sanctification -- that is to authentic humanity -- and in light of that, to love all that God loves in a similar way. 

It is always important to remember, I think, that "the world" in canon 603 does not mean "everything outside the hermitage door" -- nor does it exclude dimensions of the hermitage itself as though "the world" is not present there as well. "The world" is a collection of attitudes, values, perspectives, and priorities which live in a hermit's heart just as they live in the hearts of others. Perhaps these have been more or less changed through the context of the silence of solitude and, more importantly, through assiduous prayer and penance, but they remain deeply inculcated and closing the hermitage door, especially when done while naively believing one has shut "the world" out, merely makes the hermitage an outpost of "the world".

As noted in earlier posts, The Handbook on Canons 573-746, notes that "the world" refers to "that which is not redeemed or open to the salvific action of Christ". I have added other dimensions to this definition: 'anything which promises fulfillment apart from Christ," for instance. Thomas Merton  warns against hypostasizing "the world" and sees it in terms of illusion which should be unmasked; it is that which has become a lie and which needs to be seen for what it is.** (see below) We do that when we see all of reality with the eyes of God, and that means seeing all of reality with the eyes of love, just as I noted in my homily for the Solemnity of Ascension.  What it does not mean is God's good creation generally. For that reason, the hermit does not reject the world outside the hermitage, nor even that which is antithetical to Christ. Instead her silence and solitude (i.e., her life with and in God) allows her to see things as they are and to help love them into wholeness. Stricter separation from the world is done for the sake of the hermit's capacity to see clearly and to love truly and deeply. This includes learning to see herself clearly and learning to love herself rightly and profoundly. 

So again, no, I don't think stricter separation from the world represents a form of judgmentalism any more than a physician's diagnosis in order to treat a disorder represents a form of judgmentalism. For the hermit, stricter separation from the world, means disentangling ourselves from all kinds of forms of enmeshment so we may see properly and love profoundly into wholeness. This is what I meant when I said it required significant discernment on what, how, and when we would give our hearts to things. I hope this is clear. So much spiritual writing treats "the world" as anything outside the hermitage, convent, or monastery doors or walls. But this is just careless and dangerous thinking. It neglects the very real dimensions of the human heart which are worldly and on which one cannot simply shut the hermitage door; it also neglects the Great Commandment of love and the profound relationship a hermit (for instance) must have with the world around the hermitage, especially in the silence of solitude -- as paradoxical as that sounds.

I agree with you that Jesus would condemn many writings that speak of "the world" as though it is a distinct objective thing outside a religious house. Especially I agree that Jesus would condemn any way of seeing God's good creation which ignores the victory of the cross over sin and death and over the powers and principalities of this world. We are challenged every day not to ignore "the world" but to see it clearly, to transform it with love, and thereby to eventually win its allegiance to Christ -- even if that allegiance is anonymous. Love provides the kind of unmasking which humbles without humiliating; it raises reality to its true dignity, and it allows the deep meaning possessed by reality to come through without idolizing this world or dimensions of it. It provides the lens through which we can see things truly and value them rightly. I think Jesus saw reality in this way and we who profess that we are in and of him, must be able to demonstrate that we have the capacity to see reality in the same way. 

Hermits separate ourselves more strictly from the larger world in order to cultivate this way of seeing, this way of loving. We do it so that we can be remade into a dimension of the heart of the Church; where others who share in the love of God in Christ are meant to be Jesus' hands and feet, hermits stand hidden and yet present as a representation of Jesus' own sacred heart. Once we think of ourselves in this way, stricter separation from the world will never again mean a sterile, much less judgmental, disengagement from the world. Instead it will be a new and paradoxical way of being engaged so the world may truly be and become all God calls it to be. Stricter separation from "the world" is about love for the world of God's great and creative goodness; it is not about "contemptus mundi" except to the degree we reject the ways the world itself has been falsified by human idolatry. It is this falsification (and the distorted human heart that created it) that must be unmasked, and this, it seems to me (and to Thomas Merton, I think) is the work of the hermit and her hermitage. 
_____________________________________________

* The phrase "sent into the hermitage" instead of out into active ministry is borrowed with permission from Sister Anunziata Grace, a diocesan hermit for the Diocese of Knoxville. During a conversation we had several years ago she spoke this way and I found it particularly revelatory of the nature of the hermit's commission.

** And for anyone who has seriously entered into the medieval Christian. . . conception of contemptus mundi [hatred for or of the world],. . .it will be evident that this means not the rejection of a reality, but the unmasking of an illusion. The world as pure object is not there. it is not a reality outside us for which we exist. . . It is only in assuming full responsibility for our world, for our lives, and for ourselves that we can be said to live really for God." Thomas Merton, Contemplation in a World of Action.

14 December 2020

Laetare Sunday: Embracing Stricter Separation from the World as a Way of Rejoicing in our call to Authentic Humanity

This afternoon I attended a retreat (virtual) offered as a gift by the Mission San Jose Dominicans. The presenter was Father Jim Clark from the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. It was a significant piece of an especially rich Advent season marked by the way my own inner work has come together along with resonances with Scripture from the Mark class and reflection on Canon 603 and the concept of stricter separation from the world --- something I mentioned in an earlier post because of the role it played in the renewal of my vows and in the notion of Sabbath as well. In today's retreat the presenter spoke of becoming our truest or authentic selves and of incarnating God in the process --- ideas which will certainly be familiar to readers of this blog. It reflects that process of kenosis (self emptying) I have sometimes described as "becoming wholly transparent to God."

In speaking of "guarding the heart" and "preparing the way of the Lord" Clarke referred to being careful of or avoiding anything causing us to lose sight of who we truly are. What struck me most about this was that it is a very good way to speak of what canon 603 calls, "stricter separation from the world". Ordinarily I define "the world" in the sense used by the canon in terms of anything "which resists or is antithetical to God in Christ (or to the love of God)" but this notion that "the world" could also be defined in terms of "anything causing us to lose sight of who we truly are" and are called to be was new to me. I have certainly approached this insight but never really saw or articulated it so directly before.  What I came to see  regarding what canon 603's stricter separation from the world requires of us is that it serves our focused journeying toward the realization of our truest selves and that it is primarily a positive element in the canon and in the spiritual life in so far as it helps prevent us from losing sight of who we really are. Also, of course, in and of itself stricter separation from the world can and inevitably will be misunderstood without this correlative and primary focus on the true or authentic self which God summons into being at each moment of our lives.

Father Clarke's presentation began with Mary Oliver's poem, "The Journey", which set the tone and key of the entire presentation:

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Learning to leave all of those distracting, distorting, and falsely defining voices behind to attend to that one new voice which is truly our very own, the voice of God which dwells within us as our deepest truth, our truest identity, and which calls us by name to truly be, requires we embrace a process of kenosis. It is a process in which slowly the stars begin to burn through the clouds that have surrounded us and prevented clarity; in fact, it is a process in which life begins to burn within us ever more abundantly if our journey is on track. But to stride deeper and deeper into the world of that authentic voice or call, will mean embracing a stricter separation from anything that obstructs our view of and commitment to becoming our truest selves. This really is the process of Advent. It is the process of the inner (growth) work I have referred to occasionally here; and it is the process and meaning of stricter separation from the world called for by canon 603 and echoed in our similar Sabbath practice. 

There is pain, struggle, and darkness in this kenotic process, but ultimately, it is marked by a profound freedom and joy as we embrace God and the deepest selves God creates within us. During this third week of Advent rejoice in the Advent journey. Rejoice as Isaiah call us to do in today's first reading and let us never lose sight of the God-given splendor of the one God calls us to be.

Rejoice heartily in the LORD,
in God is the joy of (our) soul;
for he has clothed (us) with a robe of salvation
and wrapped (us) in a mantle of justice,
like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem,
like a bride bedecked with her jewels.

10 March 2019

Moving Back into "the World"?

[[Sister did you ever think that by "taking on" Bible study you were turning away from your vocation. The Bible tells us that we shouldn't look back after putting our hand to the plow! Aren't you moving back into the world God called you to leave?]]

Thanks for your email. The question regarding whether anything new I take on is a form of flight or escape from some dimension of my vocation or a way of living it inauthentically always comes up in discernment, so yes, I certainly considered these questions. I sense in your second question a dichotomous view of reality I don't share. I don't believe we can treat the hermitage as one reality and "the world" as reality outside the hermitage. As I have written here before, if we do this, we will soon discover, perhaps to our great shock, that upon closing the hermitage door we have shut ourselves in with "the world" that lives and is deeply lodged within our hearts, minds, and limbs. In a post I put up recently Thomas Merton describes this as merely having isolated oneself "with a tribe of devils." The "world" hermits and monastics turn from when they accept the call to seek God in silence and solitude is the world of "that which is resistant to Christ." It is the world which believes in values which are illusory --- values which promise fulfillment but which leave us empty and hungry for that which is lasting and completes us.

Remember that not everything outside the hermitage is "the world" in this sense. In fact, since God is present within the whole world making all of it at least potentially sacramental, and since God can be found in the ordinary things of the world around us, we identify "the world" the hermit (or monastic) "flees" with all of that only at our peril. But I have written about this before so I invite you to check out other articles on the term "the world" or "stricter separation from the world". Some will refer to Thomas Merton's reflections on "the world" the danger of hypostasizing this term. Merton stresses that we need to learn to see everything in God, that is, we must learn to see everything in its truest sense. "The world" is a kind of illusory seeing which prevents our doing this. Freeing ourselves of this illusory (and sometimes delusional) perspective while learning to see everything as God sees is what monastics and eremites do to as part of "leaving the world." A commitment to the life of God on behalf of the other is another part of "leaving the world", physical separation in the silence of solitude and prayer is another part. All of these are true especially for a hermit living in eremitical silence and solitude.

My own work with regard to Scripture study, at least so far, is proving to be a significant and concrete expression of this commitment. It does not detract from but rather is an expression of it which paradoxically calls me to live my eremitical life with even greater fidelity, imagination, energy, and love. So, yes, my life of solitude gives me something concrete (as well as many things which are less tangible) to share with my parish/diocese just as the small time I am giving to them strengthens my own eremitical life both in returning me again and again to Scripture and in allowing me encounters with people I will carry in my heart back into the solitude. God is alive and very active in all of this and it is in this way I move forward to live more deeply perhaps, the eremitical life God has called me to. You see, I think this means I am moving into the world God has called me to love and I am doing that precisely as a hermit who has and does embrace "stricter separation from the world" in ways which help me to grow in the silence of solitude (the very goal of eremitical solitude and silence).

14 May 2016

Eve of Pentecost: A Tale of Two Kingdoms (Reprise)

 One of the problems I see most often with Christianity is its domestication, a kind of blunting of its prophetic and counter cultural character. It is one thing to be comfortable with our faith, to live it gently in every part of our lives and to be a source of quiet challenge and consolation because we have been wholly changed by it. It is entirely another to add it to our lives and identities as a merely superficial "spiritual component" which we refuse to allow not only to shake the very foundations of all we know but also to transform us in all we are and do. 

Even more problematical --- and I admit to being sensitive to this because I am a hermit called to "stricter separation from the world" --- is a kind of self-centered spirituality which focuses on our own supposed holiness or perfection but calls for turning away from a world which undoubtedly needs and yearns for the love only God's powerful Spirit makes possible in us. Clearly today's Festal readings celebrate something very different than the sort of bland, powerless, pastorally ineffective, merely nominal Christianity we may embrace --- or the self-centered spirituality we sometimes espouse in the name of "contemplation" and  "contemptus mundi". Listen again to the shaking experience of the powerful Spirit that birthed the Church which Luke recounts in Acts: 

[[When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.]]

Roaring sounds filling the whole space, tongues of fire coming to rest above each person, a power of language which commun-icates (creates) incredible unity and destroys division --- this is a picture of a new and incredible creation, a new and awesome world in which the structures of power are turned on their heads and those who were outsiders --- the sick and poor, the outcast and sinners, those with no status and only the stamp of shame marking their lives --- are kissed with divinity and revealed to be God's very own Temples. The imagery of this reading is profound. For instance, in the world of this time coins were stamped with Caesar's picture and above his head was the image of a tongue of fire. Fire was a symbol of life and potency; it was linked to the heavens (stars, comets, etc). The tongue of fire was a way of indicating the Emperor's divinity.  Similarly, the capacity for speech, the fact that one has been given or has a voice, is a sign of power, standing, and authority.

And so Luke says of us. The Spirit of the Father and Son has come upon us. Tongues of Fire mark us as do tongues potentially capable of speaking a word of ultimate comfort to anyone anywhere. We have been made a Royal People, Temples of the Holy Spirit and called to live and act with a new authority, an authority and status which is greater than any Caesar. As I have noted before, this is not mere poetry, though it is certainly wonderfully poetic. On this Feast we open ourselves to the Spirit who transforms us quite literally into images of God, literal Temples of God's prophetic presence in our world, literal exemplars of a consoling love-doing-justice and a fiery, earth-shaking holiness which both transcends and undercuts every authority and status in our world that pretends to divinity or ultimacy. We ARE the Body of Christ, expressions of the one in whom godless death has been destroyed, expressions of the One in whom one day all sin and death will be replaced by eternal life. In Christ we are embodiments and mediators of the Word which destroys divisions and summons creation to reconciliation and unity; in us the Spirit of God loves our world into wholeness.

You can see that there is something really dangerous about today's Feast. What we celebrate is dangerous to a Caesar oppressing most of the known world with his taxation and arbitrary exercise of power depending on keeping subjects powerless and without choice or voice; it is dangerous if you are called to live out this gift of God's own Spirit as a prophetic presence in the very same world which kills prophets and executed God's Anointed One as a shameful criminal --- a traitor or seditionist and blasphemer. Witnesses to the risen Christ and the Kingdom of God are liable, of course, to  martyrdom of all sorts. That is the very nature of the word, "martyr", and it is what yesterday's gospel lection referred to when it promised Peter that in his maturity he would be led where he did not really desire to go. But it is also dangerous to those who prefer a more domesticated and timid "Christianity", one that does not upset the status quo or demand the overthrow of all of one's vision, values, and the redefinition of one's entire purpose in life; it is dangerous if you care too much about what people think of you or you desire a faith which is consoling but undemanding --- a faith centered on what Bonhoeffer called "cheap grace". At least it is dangerous when one opens oneself, even slightly, to the Spirit celebrated in this Feast.

A few years ago my pastor (John Kasper, OSFS)  quoted from Annie Dillard's book, Teaching a Stone to Talk. It may have been for Pentecost, but I can't remember that now. Here, though, is the passage from which he quoted, [[Why do people in church seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute? … Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us to where we can never return.]] Clearly both Fr John and Ms Dillard understood how truly dangerous the Spirit of Pentecost is.

We live in a world where two Kingdoms vie against each other. One is marked by oppression, a lack of freedom --- except for the privileged few who hold positions of wealth and influence --- and is marred by the dominion of sin and death. It is a world where the poor, ill, aged, and otherwise powerless are essentially voiceless. In this world Caesars of all sorts have been sovereign or pretended to sovereignty. The other Kingdom, the Kingdom which signals the eventual and inevitable end of the first one is the Kingdom of God. It has come among us first in God's quiet self-emptying and in the smallness of an infant, the generosity, compassion, and ultimately, the weakness, suffering and sinful death of a Jewish man in a Roman world. Today it comes to us as a powerful wind which shakes and disorients even as it grounds and reorients us in the love of God. Today it comes to us as the power of love that does justice and sets all things to right.

While the battle between these two Kingdoms occurs all around us in the way we live and proclaim the Gospel with our lives, the way, that is, we worship God, raise our children, teach our students, treat our parishioners, clients, and patients, vote our consciences, contribute to our society's needs, and generally minister to our world, it is our hearts which are ground zero in this "tale of two Kingdoms." It is not easy to admit that insofar as we are truly human we have been kissed by a Divinity which invites us to a divine/human union that completes us, makes us whole, and results in a fruitfulness we associate with all similar "marriages". It is not easy to give our hearts so completely or embrace a dignity which is entirely the gift of another. Far easier to keep our hearts divided and ambiguous. But today's Feast calls us to truly open ourselves to this union, to accept that our lives are marked and transformed by tongues of fire and the shaking, stormy Spirit of prophets. After all, this is Pentecost and through us God truly will renew the face of the earth.