On Respecting and Honoring Eremitical Life and Associated Questions

 [[Sister Laurel, did you say canon 603 came into being because hermits needed to force the church to respect hermits? I am quoting someone here: [[this other person has written that it is because the hermit they needed to force the church to recognize and respect Hermits that they hadn't been recognized and respected enough in other words to have a place or a position and I think that that's probably from the hermit's perspective why a few of them got a certain Bishop a Bishop de Roo to sponsor and to Lobby this for them with the Bishops and he they got it through in 81 it got included in the updated version of the canon law codex of canon law of the Catholic Church. ]] Did hermits lobby for this? Why would they do this?

She also said, [[so I see a good purpose for it as far as the Bishops are concerned but there's nothing mentioned about publicizing  yourselves or wearing a habit or having a title of your name or or postnominal letters after your name Er Dio or having a public Mass when you do your vows or a reception or a videotape of it that you put online none of that it's it's not really something we need to promote if God's calling Hermits he'll call them and they'll know it it's not like a matter of oh let's get the word out and recruit people to be canon law Hermits so that we can develop a movement and get some respect around the Catholic church and have a place and a position of prestige and status and power .]] 

And also when speaking of the Church not really needing c 603, because hermits are supposed to be humble, she said, [[what's the point of having the law then really because Hermits don't need to be recognized and don't need to be respected and don't need to have a place of honor in the church we're nothing to God's all of any vocation we are the least we are the least and the to be the most hidden and the most um obscure and humble . . .]] I think you are clearly the person she is referencing in these comments.]]

Yes, I agree, I am the one being focused on in these comments. I have written about the reason for c 603's establishment and the intervention by Bp Remi de Roo after serving as Bishop Protector for a colony of hermits who were required to leave their solemn vows in order to live as hermits. I am also the one who wrote about the need to honor the eremitic vocation, but not individual hermits --- I said nothing about that, and I certainly never used the idea of "forcing" the church in any of this. Neither did I speak about hermits gaining a position of power and prestige or starting a movement and recruiting people. When I have spoken about status, it has been about status in the sense of legal standing, which is granted to hermits in ecclesial vocations who assume additional canonical rights and obligations beyond those of their baptism. I have also spoken about mentoring those discerning and forming such vocations and working with their dioceses to assist in an area few have real experience of. This has nothing to do with recruiting and I think characterizing efforts to serve the Church and c 603 vocations in this way is offered in bad faith.

I am sorry the person you are quoting has not managed to accept the fact that c 603 hermits are recognized as women and men Religious despite the fact that they do not belong to a religious institute. I have cited canon lawyers' opinions on this matter, and of course, bishops and dioceses regularly approve the wearing of habits, prayer garments, cowls, rings, etc., and grant permission for use of the title Sister or Brother. They mark these things in profession liturgies, in fact. In a Church marked by new kinship and service of one another, the importance of such titles has less to do with prestige and power than it does with commitments to fostering the Kingdom of God as a countercultural reality. Post-nominal initials are common in consecrated life and tend to mark not only membership in specific institutes, but charisms, and even the shape of one's consecrated life. Diocesan Hermits use a number of recognizable post-nominals. Er Dio (for eremita dioecesanus, or diocesan hermit) seems to be best known. Such initials indicate a public, consecrated, and ecclesial vocation with public vows. They represent a life commitment and allow us to drop the title (Sister, Brother, or Father), especially in correspondence and publishing.

Finally, I have written in the past regarding the reasons Bishop Remi de Roo intervened at the Vatican II Council to argue for the making of eremitical life a state of perfection in the Church. He had worked with about a dozen hermits who had made exceptional sacrifices in order to live a call to eremitical solitude, and, highly aware of their character and the history of the vocation, recognized that in the Church's failure to recognize eremitical life in this way, it had done a disservice to a significant vocation without which the Church actually could not be the ecclesia God calls her to be. While these hermits would have understood the importance of keeping their monastic commitments, I don't know that they actually lobbied for canonical recognition. Given what I have written about existential solitude and the vocation of the hermit, I suspect that Bishop de Roo was at least somewhat sympathetic to an observation made by Thomas Merton. Along with pointing out that the Fathers of the Church had assigned hermits a high, even the highest place among Christian vocations, "because hermits aspire more than anyone else to perfect union with Christ in contemplation", Merton said: 

[[the exigencies of Christian life demand that there be hermits. The kingdom of God would be incomplete without them, for they are [persons] who seek God alone with the most absolute and undaunted and uncompromising singleness of heart.]] Disputed Questions, p 166

Most Religious I know today would not buy into the "higher, highest" way of appreciating vocations (I reject it entirely), and most hermits I know would be pretty uncomfortable viewing eremitism in this way. Still, we do recognize the uniqueness of a vocation that serves as a paradigm of the universal quest for authentic Selfhood with God and the place of both existential and physical solitude in that quest. If the Church values eremitical vocations for the place and role they hold in the very life of the Church itself, then I can't see where marking that with respect offends against humility. In fact, I experience such recognition, especially in relation to an ecclesial vocation, as an intensification of my own call to humility. Paradoxically, it is one's failure to respect oneself and one's vocation, or to recognize the fundamental Christian values of dignity, respect, and honor deserved by every person and every vocation that truly offends against humility!

A Contemplative Moment: Loneliness

by

David Whyte

Loneliness

is

the doorway to unspoken and yet unspecified desire. 

In the bodily pain of aloneness is the first step to understanding how far we are from a real friendship, from a proper work or a long-sought love. Loneliness can be a prison, a place from which we look out at a world we cannot inhabit; loneliness can be a bodily ache and penance, but loneliness fully inhabited also becomes the voice that asks and calls for that great unknown someone or something we want to call our own.

Loneliness is the very state that births the courage to continue calling, and when fully lived can undergo its own beautiful reversal, becoming in its consummation the far horizon that answers back.

In the grand scale of things, loneliness is a privilege. Human beings may have the ability to feel aloneness as no other creature can, with a power magnified by intelligence and imagination. Animals may feel alone in an instinctual way, moving naturally and affectionately toward others of their kind, but human beings may be the only beings that can articulate, imagine, or call for a specific life they feel they might be missing.

Loneliness is the substrate and foundation of belonging, the gravitational field that draws us home, and in the beautiful essence of its isolation, the hand reaching out for togetherness. To allow ourselves to feel fully alone is to allow ourselves to understand the particular nature of our solitary incarnation; to make aloneness a friend is to apprentice ourselves to the foundation from which we make our invitation to others. To feel alone is to face the truth of our irremediable and unutterable singularity, but a singularity that can kiss, create a conversation, make a vow or forge a shared life. In the world or community, this essential singularity joins with others through vision, intellect, and ideas to make a society.

Loneliness is not a concept, it is the body constellating, attempting to become proximate and even just with other bodies, through physical touch, through conversation or the mediation of the intellect and the imagination.

Loneliness is the place from which we pay real attention to voices other than our own; being alone allows us to find the healing power of the other. The shortest line in the briefest e-mail can heal, embolden, welcome home and enliven the most isolated identity. Lonely human beings are lonely because they are made to belong. Loneliness is a single malt taste of the very essentiality that makes conscious belonging possible. The doorway is closer than we think. I am alone; therefore, I belong.

in

Consolations, the Solace, Nourishment, and Underlying Meaning

of Everyday Words. pp 99-101

A Contemplative Moment: Interior or Existential Solitude

"Man the Solitary" from

Solitude in the Thought of Thomas Merton

by

Richard Anthony Cashen

Important as is the category of physical solitude, interior solitude, is more important, more fundamental than physical solitude. "There is no true solitude except interior solitude", Merton states bluntly. Physical solitude helps foster interior solitude, it is true, but it is interior solitude which gives physical solitude its validity. Without interior solitude, physical solitude might be a false or dangerous solitude, full of life denial and self-hatred, a flight from responsibility or spiteful separation from one's fellow man. . . .Solitude becomes for Merton, as Jean LeClercq has pointed out, the symbol of the 'absolute, ultimate and inexhaustible encounter with God and with humanity'. Merton's concept of interior solitude resembles the biblical concept of 'heart'. In fact, one of the finest summations of Merton's thought on interior solitude can be found in his own description of the scriptural 'heart'. One need only substitute the words interior solitude in place of 'heart':

heart (interior solitude) refers to the deepest psychological ground of one's personality, the inner sanctuary where self-awareness goes beyond analytical reflection and opens out into metaphysical and theological confrontation with the Abyss of the unknown yet present --- one who is 'more intimate to us than we are to ourselves'.

While physical solitude removes us from our fellow man, interior solitude unites us with him. It is communion with our fellow man on a much deeper level than the social fictions of life in a large city or a technological world allow. Physical solitude is not absolutely necessary for the process of interior solitude.

. . . a (person) becomes a solitary at the moment when, no matter what may be his external surroundings, he is suddenly aware of his own inalienable solitude and sees that he will never be anything but solitary. 

 

Follow-up on Standards for Beginning and Mature Hermits

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I was especially aware that when you write about the standards of your life you are describing what happens in a relationship with God. What you seemed to describe regarding the difference between beginners and the mature hermit was the deepening of a relationship. I could see the variations reflected in the way different people participate in this relationship with God. Too, it seemed to me that the central elements of c 603 had to do with what is essential to live a life in relationship with God. Do you see mature hermits practicing these elements more strictly than beginners? Is there any part of what you live that you practice more strictly now than you did as a beginning hermit?]]

You're welcome, and thank you for making clearer than I may have done myself what is most central in speaking of standards of eremitical life. I agree with you that the essential or constitutive elements of c 603 reflect what is central to a hermit's relationship with God. I do recognize that hermits should be open to living greater reclusion if God calls them to this, and I think hermits from the beginning of their eremitical lives should be open to hearing such a call. I tend not to use the word stricter or more strictly to describe changes in my own life. I prefer the term radical instead of this. That corresponds with increasing depth as well as with an increasingly profound degree of lived personal truth. So I live some things more deeply or more radically, yes, but only occasionally does that translate into being stricter about them.

Yes, prayer becomes deeper and more extensive as well, as the person becomes not just someone who prays, but God's own prayer in the church and in our world. In light of this, one mainly continues to pray in the way one did as a beginner, and at the same time (as your question clearly recognized), the relationship that is the heart and purpose of prayer deepens and becomes not just central to one's life but one's very breath and blood as well. In some ways, it feels like prayer is not only not stricter, but that it becomes less strict. Over time, I have shifted from one form of prayer to another or added prayer periods for certain reasons as needed, but there is no strictness about this. Responsiveness and faithfulness or fidelity, yes, but strictness, no; the word just doesn't feel right to me. I suppose it feels like it fails to reflect the integral nature of a Divine call to assiduous prayer and penance. 

I think the words responsive and faithful fit all of the dimensions of my life where they might not have when I was beginning eremitical life in 1984 or so. All those years ago, I was finding my way into a vocation, wondering what it involved or allowed and did not allow. I was exercised with discovering not only what such a call required but whether or not it could be considered truly vital at all. Yes, of course, it was an ancient vocation, but was it really also a contemporary one, important for the contemporary church and for our larger world as well? Could my sense of this call be justified apart from my own chronic illness and disability, for instance, or was I mistaken? (More about this in another article). 

I began reading and praying and discovered people who helped me see this was very much a healthy, vital, and contemporary vocation. Some of Merton's writings were important (Contemplation in a World of Action and his "Notes on a Philsophy of Solitude" were particularly helpful; so were the essays in Allchin's Solitude and Communion, which, in those days, had to be gotten from the Sisters of the Love of God in the UK, and so, put me in touch with their community. Some Camaldolese writing was critical in my discernment, not to mention the existence of the Camaldolese Benedictines in Big Sur. Now, of course, the vocation and my own identity are more just a single thing; in saying this I mean that they are one insofar as I am responsive to God and live my own identity faithfully. So, in all of this, "radically" is a much better word than strictness or any of its cognates.

 Today, I believe that c 603's constitutive elements are less things we are called to do (though, of course, they are also that) and more about the kind of persons that hermits are supposed to be. I believe if we consider these elements this way, we will put the accent where it must be, namely on our relationship with God and who we are called to be in light of that. Canon 603 doesn't spell out what it means to pray or embrace penance assiduously, nor does it define "the silence of solitude" or "stricter separation from the world," and this means each hermit will define these in the way and to the extent her relationship with God calls for and depends on these things. The same is true of the way we work out limited forms of ministry: What does my own growth in wholeness and holiness in light of this relationship require? The question I must continue to ask is how my life in hermitage spills over into ministry and how that ministry demands responsiveness and fidelity to God's love in hermitage. Questions about strictness, especially increasing strictness, tend to be unhelpful or even off-point for me.

Follow-up on Growing as a Hermit: The importance of Others and Learning to Listen

[[Dear Sister, first of all, thank you for your response to my question. Also, thank you for the chance to follow up. What I was interested to hear was how does a hermit with little access to other people measure their [own] growth? Here's where I was coming from in my question. I know that it is in my relationships with others that I really find out whether I have been growing or not. Sometimes I think I've got some hang up taken care of and all of a sudden there's an encounter with someone at my parish and any thought that I have grown in my ability to love others, or my capacity for patience, or whatever --- is shown for the delusion it is! It just seemed to me that a hermit has less chance to have the kinds of experiences that prove whether they have grown or not.

I also wanted to follow up on what you said about letting God be God. I never made the connection before between letting God be God, letting ourselves be loved by God, and loving God ourselves. They really are all the same thing, aren't they? Thank you for that insight!]]

Thanks again for getting back to me. I understand where you are coming from in your observation regarding access to people or relationships. My own experience is, in some ways, the same as yours with regard to seeing how I have grown as a hermit. One source of gauging or measuring growth will be how I deal with other people. Sometimes this has to do with how others still trigger reactions in me, how I get irritated or impatient or judgmental --- all that kind of thing. Sometimes I will notice shifts in relating that are more positive (though I might be noticing how much less irritated or impatient or judgmental I get than I once did, and this represents growth and healing). Yes, there's nothing like relating to others, especially after periods of solitude, to help one see the work that has been done and the work (or conversion, growth, or healing) that still needs to be done!!!

Sister Marietta Fahey, SHF

I do pay attention to the keys these kinds of encounters with others give me, but the source of growth, healing, and conversion will always mainly be my relationship with God. I grow in that relationship and as I do that, I find that it bears fruit in other relationships, in the way in which I see reality around me (for instance, is my realism tinged (or strongly colored) by cynicism or by hope?), and in the way I experience or know myself as well. It also bears fruit in the way I live each day, how I handle illness and chronic pain, how faithful, caring, creative, and courageous I am able to be in spite of limitations, and in all of this, how faithful to prayer.) There are certainly times when all of that is harder (and sometimes very much harder) than at others and I depend on regular meetings with my director to share it all and to maintain perspective and direction. In between meetings for SD, it is journaling, prayer periods, and my time with Scripture that help keep me in touch with who I am called to be and who I am becoming. 

I think what I want you to hear here is the fact that a hermit's life is not ordinarily entirely closed off from others, or from the kind of listening and responding that characterizes relationships with these same others. Eremitical solitude is not isolation, after all!  Also, there are other ways to listen. I know, for instance, that when I stop journaling (or blogging!!) for a period of time something needs special attention. I know something is up when my prayer -- or my approach to prayer -- changes (for instance, I resist prayer or can't return to a normal pattern after a period of illness), or Scripture feels relatively flat to me. Note, however, the changes can also indicate something positive is going on with me and certainly in my relationship with God (and others), so, for instance, the need to add a third period of quiet prayer to the day.)  All of this, and what it all means for being faithful to (growing in) my identity and vocation in Christ depends on a commitment to listening and openness to myself and to God, and so, all of it is implicated in what I refer to as faithfulness to prayer. 

I remember writing here once about Thomas Merton saying that to be really crazy requires other people and that sanity was gained with the trees and mountains (probably a bad paraphrase but it will do for a very limited application). We really have to learn to listen to the content and quality of our own hearts if we are to grow. Moreover, we must learn to hear who God says we are --- how he loves and takes delight in us!! I think that best occurs in the silence of solitude, whether that solitude is about being in touch with ourselves while resting in the heart of God alone, being in touch with ourselves through the abundant life of God's creation, or seeing ourselves anew as we speak our truth to a good friend who generously gives herself over to hearing and accompanying us in this journey toward the fullness of Selfhood. In all of these situations we can hear our own hearts gently reflected back to us if we have learned to listen. That way lies growth, no matter who we are. Sometimes, our encounters with others result in inner turmoil, a kind of cacophony that doesn't serve growth in quite the same way --- if at all!

Thanks again for the follow-up question. I enjoyed pursuing this a bit further than I pursued it originally! And yes, "Letting God be God" etc.,  all mean essentially the same thing!!! Pretty cool, isn't it?

"Happier Hermit" Reflects on Freedom from "Masking"

In January of 2020 I posted an article about Regina Kreger, a lay hermit who unofficially took the name Felicity upon making private vows as a lay hermit. Fittingly, Regina/Felicity has a blog called Being a Happy Hermit, and yesterday she posted an article there entitled "Happier Hermit." It is one of the best posts I have read illustrating what hermits recognize life in a hermitage makes possible, namely, the absence of masking (no, not physical masking due to COVID!) --- where "masking" is something Felicity points out we all do at least from time to time, and especially in certain situations.

 While hermitages are not the only place or situation in which an absence of masking is made possible, their essential nature is defined in terms of this phenomenon. Even the idea of a "stricter separation from the world" is about the absence of masking or the transparency that life in a hermitage makes possible. Thomas Merton referred a number of times to the same experience in eremitical life when he wrote of the lack of pretense, or even the bone deep sanity one finds there. Some readers might remember that he wrote about the impossibility of remaining insane (and here he was speaking about all the forms of pretense and personal dishonesty life ordinarily allows or even demands) in the face of the deep sanity of the forest or desert. I more routinely use the term "transparency" or even humility (a form of loving honesty) to speak of this significant form of sanity. It is an important expression of authentic freedom, namely the freedom to be ourselves and to take the same kind of delight in our own and others' truth that God takes.

Felicity, a fine writer (and authentic hermit it seems to me), illustrates the meaning of all of these terms and descriptions in her post: Happier Hermit. She routinely posts thoughtful and profoundly insightful posts illustrating significant dimensions of eremitical life. For instance, on the occasion of the renewal of her vows this month she posted about why eremitical life is not a stopgap or fallback calling for her in: Solitude. She summarizes this by saying loudly and proudly, "I'm NOT settling!!" I recommend folks give her blog a second and third look (and a first, of course, if you haven't done that yet)!! Meanwhile, my congratulations to Felicity/Regina on the renewal of her vows and best wishes and prayer as her eremitical adventure continues, (soon to be) "somewhere" in Europe instead of Maryland, USA, or even in Spain.

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!).

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).

A Contemplative Moment: Solitude is not Separation

 

Solitude is Not Separation

by

Thomas Merton

  

Some (persons) have become hermits with the thought that sanctity could only be attained by escape from other (persons). But the only justification for a life of deliberate solitude is the conviction that it will help you to love not only God but other (people). If you go into the desert merely to get away from people you dislike, you will find neither peace nor solitude; you will only isolate yourself with a tribe of devils.

 

Man seeks unity because he is the image of the One God. Unity implies solitude, and hence the need to be physically alone. But unity and solitude are not metaphysical isolation. He who isolates himself in order to enjoy a kind of independence in his egotistic and external self does not find unity at all, for he disintegrates into a multiplicity  of conflicting passions and finally ends in confusion and total unreality. Solitude is not and can never be a narcissistic dialogue of the ego with itself. Such self-contemplation is a futile attempt to establish the finite self as infinite, to make it permanently independent of all other beings. And this is madness. Note, however that it is not a madness peculiar to solitaries --- it is much more common to those who try to assert their own unique excellence by dominating others. this is the more usual sin.

 

. . .True solitude is the home of the person, false solitude the refuge of the individualist. The person is constituted by a uniquely subsisting capacity to love --- by a radical ability to care for all beings made by God and loved by Him. Such a capacity is destroyed by the loss of perspective. . . Go into the desert not to escape other (people) but in order to find them in God.

 

. . .There is no true solitude except interior solitude. And interior solitude is not possible for anyone who does not accept (her) right place in relation to other(s). There is no true peace possible for the (one) who still imagines that some accident of talent or grace or virtue segregates (her) from other(s) and places (her) above them. Solitude is not separation. God does not give us graces or talents or virtues for ourselves alone. We are members one of another and everything that is given to one member is given for the whole body. I do not wash my feet to make them more beautiful than my face.

[I write a lot here about the difference between solitude and isolation, eremitism and individualism, and these are a couple of the things I am asked about most frequently --- especially as folks discern the distinction between being a hermit and being a lone or solitary individual -- no matter how pious. Similar questions are posed on the idea of eremitical hiddenness and the distinction between that and anonymity and disengagement. Thomas Merton speaks to all of these ideas. He wrote about Solitude in Seeds of Contemplation but in New Seeds of Contemplation he wrote a new essay called "Solitude is not Separation". The differences between the two are striking; while complementary essays, they show such incredible shifts and development in his understanding and experience of eremitical solitude! The above post consists of excerpts from that second essay.]

On Apostolic Ministry vs the Ministry of Hermits

Dear Sister Laurel, Today's society is one of action, which is how practically everyone, religious included seem to live.  If one is quiet or humble, it's generally looked down on.  What are your thoughts about this?

Good question! First off, I don’t think quietness and humility per se are the problem. What I mean is if one is a contemplative religious or hermit it is not quietness or humility which are problematical in a world which esteems active ministry. All religious life, active, or contemplative, --- indeed all Christian life --- value quietness (silence, stillness, self-control, etc.) and genuine humility (a loving self honesty), but there is no doubt our church generally esteems active ministry and what is called Apostolic religious life while it fails to truly esteem adequately contemplative life and especially eremitical life. I say this although the Church still writes contemporary documents honoring contemplative life; namely, in  spite of these and the fulsome praise of eremitical life given by Bp Remi de Roo in his intervention at Vatican II, for instance, it is still possible to find bishops and dioceses who/that will not give the implementation of canon 603 a chance, and who fail to demonstrate any genuine understanding of the eremitical vocation's charism or pneumatic gift-quality.

What I believe is that unless the church is truly able to see these things (forms of life and their charisms) as powerful and effective ways of proclaiming the Gospel, I don’t think this will change. Our world is in terrible need of hearing the Gospel proclaimed in every possible key and yet all too often contemplative life is seen as ineffective or even selfish. In a world marked and marred by individualism, eremitical life strikes people as a symptom and even the epitome of a cultural epidemic of alienation, selfishness, and self-centeredness. Once again people have to see these things (contemplative and eremitical life) as being powerful ways of witnessing to and proclaiming the generosity, self-emptying, grace, promise, and hope of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

For instance,  while I agree hermits should be persons of assiduous prayer, I don’t think the idea of being powerhouses of prayer, for instance, ordinarily serves as much more than a thinly veiled form of active ministry; it is not the way to achieve the goal just mentioned. On the other hand, witnessing to the salvific love of God that heals, sanctifies, completes, and perfects a person even when the person seems otherwise to have no specific gifts, ministries, or "use" in the community is a particularly vivid witness to the power of the Gospel. Until contemplative religious and hermits do this and make sure the Church understands what contemplative and by extension, eremitical life are really all about I think we will continue to have problems with a failure to esteem such lives.

At the same time, this difficulty in esteeming contemplative and/or eremitical life is not only the hierarchy's problem --- or not their problem alone. Would-be candidates presenting themselves to chanceries and petitioning to be admitted to profession and consecration under canon 603, for instance, frequently are every bit as selfish, self-centered, alienated, and so forth as bishops and vicars or vocation personnel fear! They quite often are social and professional failures who are looking for a way to validate that failure while at the same time they retreat from its consequences into a "hermitage". They might well, for example, have bought into the culture's new fad called "cocooning" and now be seeking a way to give it a bit of religious and even ecclesial standing and prestige. They might have been found unsuitable during a trial of religious life, perhaps even after several tries of different communities and merely be looking for a way to get permission to wear a habit. Some have been unable to cut the apron strings and still live with parents. And so forth.

In relatively rare instances some of these people may discover they actually do have a vocation to eremitical or contemplative religious life which they will need to grow into; dioceses will need to carefully discern and pay attention to the eremitical formation of such persons. These kinds of experiences will demonstrate the redemptive character of eremitical life and the Gospel of Jesus Christ, so again, I believe they bring us back to my first conclusion, namely, it is only insofar as the Church is able to see that eremitical life witnesses to the effective and redemptive power of the Gospel that she will truly be able to come to esteem it appropriately. After all, if one cannot see the power of the Gospel at work in the person supposedly "called" to an ecclesial vocation how can one consider it any valid kind of call by Christ in the his Church?

Quietness and humility can be effective signs of the redemptive power of Jesus Christ and the Gospel. In fact, when they are healthy and genuine, they tend to be the consequence of being profoundly loved and authentic individuality and independence. Noisiness, arrogance, etc are just the opposite. What c 603 calls "the silence of solitude" is about much more than external silence of course. Eremitical life begins there and finds that a source of life, but at the same time the silence of solitude points to the inner quiet that results when we discover how profoundly and unceasing loved we are by God; it is the quiet that comes when we let go of all the various forms of drivenness and insecurity that make our lives a noisy, clamorous seeking. The silence of solitude is the result of being held securely by God and learning to rest in that in ever greater union with Him.

Thus both stillness (quies or hesychasm) and genuine humility are the result of the love we come to know in external silence. Hermits witness to this, and to the radical hope human beings need to live truly human lives at all. In a time when belief in God is often seen as silly or unintelligent, hermits live fully human lives and grow in that in a solitude which is defined in terms of communion with God. As I have quoted here a number of times. Thomas Merton wrote the one gift the (monastic) hermit gives to the world is: to “bear witness to the fact that certain basic claims about solitude and peace are in fact true, [for] in doing this, [they] will restore people’s confidence first in their own humanity and beyond that in God’s grace.”

On Merton, Suffering, Solitude, and the Making of the Hermit

[[The contemplation of the Christian solitary is the awareness of the divine mercy transforming and elevating his own emptiness and turning it into the presence of perfect love, perfect fullness.]] [Merton's ideal solitaries] are thus, [[the paradoxical, tormented solitaries for whom there is no real place; men and women who have not so much chosen solitude as been chosen by it. And these have not generally found their way into the desert either through simplicity or through innocence. Theirs is the solitude that is reached the hard way, through bitter suffering and disillusionment.]]

[[Dear Sister, I have wondered for some time what makes a person want to be a hermit. It just never made sense to me unless the person was broken and embittered by life and needed to withdraw from that by giving up on people and even on God. It's the solitude that I can't justify. Community made sense but not solitude unless hermits were people who were unable to participate in community for some reason. When you have written about the creation of the hermit heart in your own life it sounds like it involved a lot of suffering but you don't come across as bitter or broken. Thomas Merton has written about this very thing (please see what I quoted from "The Hermitary" site); have you seen this already? But I wondered what makes your heart a hermit heart and not the heart of an embittered survivor of suffering. Is the answer in what Merton wrote about mercy?

Do you think Merton is correct in characterizing the "ideal solitary" as he does? If this is true it must be really difficult for dioceses to "discern" this kind of vocation. Do you know what I mean? In religious life candidates are screened for their health and wholeness and backgrounds involving suffering raises red flags for the vocation personnel. But if ideal hermits are "tormented solitaries" what does a diocese look for in determining authentic eremitical vocations?]]

Thank you for your observations and questions. I have written recently again, though briefly,  about fraudulent hermits; what you are asking about is really one of the more significant ways people betray the eremitical vocation or substitute an inauthentic version of the life for the real thing. What Merton was saying first of all, as I read him, is that solitude must open the door to the one wishing to live an eremitical life; one cannot simply decide to live solitude and do it without such an opening. The second thing I believe Merton is writing about is how the door of solitude is often opened to a person. One of the main ways is through suffering that isolates in any of the many ways this occurs. But I agree with you that suffering is not sufficient to truly discern an eremitical call; it is a beginning and might be suggestive but it is not definitive.

On Unredeemed Suffering and the Door to Solitude:

Moreover, if a person has nothing but her suffering and if that suffering  remains unredeemed or un-transfigured by the grace and love of God, she will never be a hermit in the proper (Christian) sense; instead she will remain an isolated, broken, and possibly embittered person but one who is largely, if not entirely incapable of proclaiming the Gospel with her life. Such a person ought not be admitted to profession as a canonical hermit because while she may "not have a place" --- one element of Merton's description --- neither can she live out the mission or charism of the canonical hermit. Genuine solitude is redeemed and transformed isolation. It is marked or characterized by its relational tenor, a unique but very significant and paradoxical form of relatedness, of ecclesiality and community. The place the hermit has is unusual but very real. The door solitude opens to us is unlocked in part by significant and long-term suffering a person experiences through the first half of her life, but at the same time the door of Solitude can only said to be opened if the person has come to know the potential healing and transformation of her woundedness by the unqualified love and eternal life of God.

While persons whose first half of life may be marked by significant suffering are sometimes important and illustrative of the way some eremitical vocations are born, as you say they are sometimes also difficult cases in regard to discernment by dioceses. This is especially true if suffering remains the defining dimension of the person's life.  When I began this blog more than a decade ago I wrote about one needing to be a hermit in some essential sense before one approached a diocese with a request to be professed. What I meant then and still hold is that one has to move from being an isolated person for whom physical solitude may merely mirror or even exacerbate the alienation that can come from and be a source of suffering to being one for whom solitude is a relational reality which heals isolation and is the context for real reconciliation. Hermits know more than physical solitude; they know communion -- with God and others. And this means they can (and in fact must) know the healing of whatever suffering marked their earlier years. When dioceses work with potential candidates for profession they must look for those persons for whom physical solitude is a unique form of communion and symptom and source of healing.

My Own Healing and Growth Work:

In my own inner work I have become even more convinced of this truth.  Both of the quotations you cited are important but in regard to becoming the hermit I am called and consecrated to be I especially resonate with the first one. [[The contemplation of the Christian solitary is the awareness of the Divine mercy transforming and elevating [her] own emptiness and turning it into the presence of perfect love, perfect fullness.]] This is the one which mirrors my profession motto, [[(God's) power is made perfect in weakness]] --- a motto I chose precisely because it reflects first the nature of the Christ Event and then my own story with and in light of the grace of God. My own story involves suffering, yes, but far more than that it is the story of God's grace, a grace which, as I have said here many times, brings light out of darkness, life out of death, and meaning out of senselessness and absurdity. What Merton says, what Paul says, what the Christ Event makes real in space and time, and what authentic hermits of all sorts also say is that suffering plunges a person into the depths of isolation and readies her to hear God's invitation to depend on God alone. When, and to the extent that invitation is accepted one's life is entirely transfigured into one of wholeness and holiness, one is defined in a new way. Suffering may not ease entirely and may even increase in some ways, but it will no longer be the thing which drives and defines the person.

 And this means, of course, that one whose defining experience is the mercy of God will show this to those discerning her vocation. The one who wishes to become a diocesan hermit will reveal the mercy of God as the ground and source of her suffering's redemption and her life's transfiguration. Without this her solitude will be nothing more than physical and maybe spiritual, and emotional isolation. She will be a lone individual --- her suffering will have made her this on a number of levels, but she will not be a hermit in the sense the Church uses the term. On the other hand those individuals who have made the journey that Merton describes, the journey through serious suffering and into the mercy and love of God, may well have discovered the eremitical world solitude herself (and only "Solitude" herself) admits them to.

Summary: A Note to Dioceses on the Charism of Diocesan Eremitical Life

To reiterate then, Dioceses which are careful in their discernment will not eschew a person whose life is full of suffering so long as that life is also one defined and clearly transformed by the grace of God experienced in eremitical solitude. Such a diocese is careful to look not only at the suffering but at the fruits of that suffering which would  demonstrate it has been transfigured by the mercy of God. When the latter is not clearly present, when for instance, the person's message is self-centered and full of expressed pain but little else, when, that is, her life is defined by her suffering and not by the grace of God, the diocese will have to wait and watch to see what kind of vocation is actually present. They will give the person some reasonable time in physical solitude to see what changes occur. Generally speaking, if the person is called to be a hermit, isolation and a focus on suffering will be transformed by the love of God into genuine solitude (a unique but very real expression of reconciliation and community in Christ)  and the proclamation with her entire life of the healing and redemptive love of God.

Also generally speaking, all of this reflects the way the heart of a hermit is created and the door to eremitical solitude is opened when there is a background or history of significant suffering. It reflects the way a life comes to reveal the charisma or gift to Church and World c 603 calls "the Silence of Solitude" in such cases.  Suffering of all sorts can hollow one out and make one yearn for answers to the question of self that only God can provide. One lives the questions associated with meaning: does my life make sense? Is it meaningful? Is it moved by love, both as giver and receiver? How can I make sure my life is meaningful by ministering to others in a way which is redemptive for them?  Why have or am I suffering in the apparently gratuitous way I have or am? Where is God in all of this and how can I live for God and others? As important as living the questions is, through the grace of God mediated to one in all the ways it comes to us, one will also come to live the answer: namely, I have lived/am living all of this so that the Gospel of God in Jesus Christ is proclaimed loudly and clearly (or silently but with clarity and poignancy!) and the God whose power is perfectly revealed in weakness resonates within my heart causing it to sing a Magnificat of gratitude and praise.

Driven into the Desert by the Spirit of Sonship (Reprise)

I really love today's Gospel, especially at the beginning of Lent. The thing that strikes me most about it is that Jesus' 40 days in the desert are days spent coming to terms with and consolidating the identity which has just been announced and brought to be in him. (When God speaks, the things he says become events, momentous things that really happen in space and time, and so too with the announcement that Jesus is his beloved Son in whom he is well-pleased.) Subsequently, Jesus is driven into the desert by the Spirit of love, the Spirit of Sonship, to explore that identity, to allow it to define him in space and time more and more exhaustively, to allow it to become the whole of who he is. One of the purposes of Lent is to provide the "space" and time  needed to  allow us to do the same.

A Sister friend I go to coffee with on Sundays remarked on the way from Mass that she had had a conversation with her spiritual director this last week where he noted that perhaps Jesus' post-baptismal time in the desert was a time for him to savor the experience he had had at his baptism. It was a wonderful comment that took my own sense of this passage in a new and deeper direction. Because of the struggle involved in the passage I had never thought to use the word savor in the same context, but as my friend rightly pointed out, the two often go together in our spiritual lives. They certainly do so in hermitages! My own director had asked me to do something similar when we met this last week by suggesting I consider going back to all those pivotal moments of my life which have brought me to the silence of solitude as the vocation and gift of my life. Essentially she was asking me not only to consider these intellectually (though she was doing that too) but to savor them anew and in this savoring to come to an even greater consolidation of my identity in God and as diocesan hermit.

Hermitages are places which reprise the same experience of consolidation and integration of our identity in God. They are deserts in which we come not only to learn who we are in terms of God alone, but to allow that to define our entire existence really and concretely -- in what we value, how we behave, in the choices we make, and those with whom we identify, etc. In the "In Good Faith" podcast I did a few years ago for A Nun's Life, I noted that for me the choice which is fundamental to all of Lent and all of the spiritual life, "Choose Life, not death" is the choice between accepting and living my life according to the way God defines me or according to the way the "world" defines me. It means that no matter how poor, inadequate, ill, and so forth I also am, I choose to make God's announcement that in Christ  I am his beloved daughter in whom he is well-pleased the central truth of my life which colors and grounds everything else. Learning to live from that definition (and so, from the one who announces it) is the task of the hermit; the hermitage is the place to which the Spirit of love and Sonship*** drive us so that we can savor the truth of this incomprehensible mystery even as we struggle to allow it to become the whole of who we are.

But hermitages are, of course, not the only places which reprise these dynamics. Each of us has been baptized, and in each of our baptisms what was announced to us was the fact that we were now God's adopted beloved daughters and sons. Lent gives us the space and time where we can focus on the truth of this, claim that truth more whole-heartedly, and, as Thomas Merton once said, "get rid of any impersonation that has followed us" to the [desert]. We need to take time to identify and struggle with the falsenesses within us, but also to accept and appreciate the more profound truth of who we are and who we are called to become in savoring our experiences of God's love. As we fast in various ways, we must be sure to also taste and smell as completely as we can the nourishing Word of God's love for us. After all, the act of savoring is the truest counterpart of fasting for the Christian. The Word we are called to savor is the Word which defines us as valued and valuable in ways the world cannot imagine and nourishes us where the things of the world cannot. It is this Word we are called both to struggle with and to savor during these 40 days, just as Jesus himself did.

Thus, as I fast this Lent (in whatever ways that means), I am going to remember to allow myself not only to get in touch with my own deepest hungers and the hungers I share with all others (another very good reason to fast), but also to get in touch anew with the ways I have been fed and nourished throughout my life --- the experiences I need to savor as well. Perhaps then when Lent comes to an end I will be better able to claim and celebrate the one I am in God. My prayer is that each of us is able to do something similar with our own time in the desert.

_______________________________
Merton quotation taken from Contemplation in a World of Action, "Christian Solitude," p 244.

*** A reminder that whether we are daughters or sons of God, our adoption by God gives us a share in Jesus' Sonship. Our own daughterhood or sonship is derivative in nature; that is, it derives from  Jesus' Sonship. Thus I speak of the Spirit of Sonship, not because I am insensitive to the issues of patriarchy or inclusive language, but because my usage here is essentially and primarily Christological.

Developing the Heart of a Hermit

[[Hi Sister, when you write about having the heart of a hermit and moving from isolation to solitude do you mean that someone comes to this through some form of trauma or serious personal wounding and alienation? Is this necessary? Can a person who has never been hurt or broken develop the "heart of a hermit"?]]

Hi and thanks for your questions. When I think of someone with the heart of a hermit I am thinking of someone who has entered a desert, been stripped and emptied in all the ways a desert does, and learned to depend upon God for her very life as well as for the meaning of that life. When I speak of God I mean what the Christian creeds mean, what the NT means and who Jesus reveals, but I also mean being dependent on the One Tillich called the "Ground of Being and Meaning", namely a transcendent ground which both surpasses and comprehends our own emptiness and incapacities and is the source and guarantor of life and meaning.

When I speak of a desert I mean the literal wilder-nesses we know as deserts (the Thebaid, Scetes, Mojave, Sonoran, Sahara, etc), but I also mean any extended situation which demands  or forces a person to plumb the depths of their own personal resources --- courage, intelligence, creativity, sense of security, personal  gifts and talents, sense of self, faith, hope, love, etc --- all the things we need to negotiate the world fruitfully and independently. In such a situation, which may certainly include childhood traumatic situations, a person brings all they have and know to the situation and over time are emptied or reach the limit of these resources. At the same time one can, and hopefully will, experience a sense of empowerment one knows comes from beyond themselves, sometimes radically so. When this happens such a person continues to live with a fresh courage and sense of meaning and hope. They embrace their own weakness honestly as they humbly and gratefully accept the life which is received as complete gift in such situations.

All kinds of situations result in "desert experiences." Chronic illness, bereavement, negligent and abusive family life, bullying, losses of employment and residence, abandonment, divorce, war, imprisonment, insecure identity (orphans, etc), serious poverty, and many others may be classified this way. Typically such experiences distance, separate, and even alienate us from others (e.g., ties with civil society, our normal circle of friends and the rhythms of life we are so used to are disrupted and sometimes lost entirely); too they throw us back upon other resources, and eventually require experiences of transcendence --- the discovery of or tapping into new and greater resources which bring us beyond the place of radical emptiness and  helplessness to one of consolation and communion. The ultimate (and only ultimately sufficient) source of transcendence is God and it is the experience of this originating and sustaining One who is Love in Act that transforms our isolation into the communion we know as solitude.

Thus, my tendency is to answer your question about the possibility of developing the heart of a hermit without experiences of loss, trauma, or brokenness in the negative. These experiences open us to the Transcendent and, in some unique ways, are necessary for this. Remember that sinfulness itself is an experience of estrangement and brokenness so this too would qualify if one underwent a period of formation where one met one's own sinfulness in a sufficiently radical way. Remember too that the hermit vocation is generally seen as a "second half of life" vocation; the need that one experiences this crucial combination of radical brokenness and similar transcendence and healing is very likely part of the reason behind this bit of common wisdom.

In any case, the heart of a hermit is created when a person living a desert experience also learns to open themselves to God and to live in dependence on God in a more or less solitary context. One need not become a hermit to have the heart of a hermit and not all those with such hearts become hermits in a formal, much less a canonical way. In the book Journeys into Emptiness (cf.,illustration above), the Zen Buddhist Master Dogen, Roman Catholic Monk Thomas Merton, and Depth Psychologist Carl Jung all developed such hearts. Only one lived as a hermit --- though both Dogen and Merton were monks.

As I understand and use the term these are the hearts of persons irrevocably marked by the experience and threat of emptiness as well as by the healing (or relative wholeness) achieved in solitary experiences of transcendence and who are now not only loving individuals but are persons who are comfortable and  (often immensely) creative in solitude. They are persons who have experienced in a radical way and even can be said to have "become" the question of meaning and found in the Transcendent the only Answer which truly completes and transforms them. In a Farewell to Arms, Hemingway said it this way, [[The World breaks everyone and then some become strong in the broken places.]] The Apostle Paul said it this way (when applied to human beings generally), "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is perfected in weakness."

Hermit hearts are created when, in a radical experience of weakness, need, yearning, and even profound doubt that will mark her for the rest of her life,  she is also transfigured by an experience of God's abiding presence. A recognition of the nature of the hermit's heart is what drives my insistence that the Silence of Solitude is the goal and gift (charism) of eremitical life; it is also the basis for the claim that there must be an experience of redemption at the heart of the discernment, profession, and consecration of any canonical hermit. While she in no way denies the importance of others who can and do mediate this same presence in our world, the hermit gives herself to the One who alone can make her whole and holy. She seeks and seeks to witness to the One who has already "found" her in the wilderness and found her in a way that reveals the truth that "God alone is enough" for us.