On Existential Solitude and Discerning my own Eremitical Vocation

[[I do have a question for you. I am trying to be respectful in how I word this. Chronic illness is an integral part of how you live your vocation. I got the impression not too long ago that you had struggled at one point about your vocation from one of our conversations. . . . What I am interested in knowing if you feel like sharing, is what helped you understand the difference between a call to the eremitic life as a vocation geared to you specifically, and a way of making lemonade out of lemons? The reason I ask is because I just have an overall impression from many of your posts... that there is a real emphasis on how this vocation really fits chronic illness and I wonder if people see it as a secondary thing, or the primary reason for seeking profession. . . . and yet there seems to be a liminality about it. . . that is, it is true that these factors are compatible with vocations and radically shape how it is lived, and yet [these factors] do not explain how a person identifies the vocation psychologically without a particular apostolate or chronic illness as being theirs. And perhaps this question makes no sense. . .]]

Thanks for your questions. They are important and point to a significant constellation of issues any hermit candidate and diocesan personnel along with mentors, spiritual directors, et al, will need to deal with in discerning a vocation to eremitical life when the candidate has a disability or chronic illness. Chronic illness certainly impacts the way I live my vocation; more importantly, though, I think it is a foundational part of my vocation per se. I say this because it has been chronic illness along with personal woundedness that confront me with existential solitude most sharply and have done so all through the years, even when I was much younger. Existential solitude is something every genuine hermit comes to know, but chronic illness, for instance, introduces us to this much earlier and, perhaps, in a more thoroughgoing way than is ordinarily the case. Karl Jung once wrote about this (if I am remembering correctly). He noted that some younger people have certain lived experiences that suit them to a solitary life, even though we ordinarily think of eremitical life as a second half of life vocation. I believe chronic illness, some disabilities, and some other difficult situations experienced in early life represent such experiences.

While I believe the eremitical vocation is primary and the chronic illness must be secondary in one's discernment of the vocation and admission to profession and consecration, I also believe that one's illness can serve one's vocation to eremitical life precisely because it puts the person in touch with the deepest solitude we human beings know and that eremitical life is lived in terms of, namely, existential solitude. This is the solitude that recognizes our fundamental aloneness and separation from others no matter how close we also become to them or how well we love them and they love us. Existential solitude recognizes a gap that cannot be bridged as well as the fact that this aloneness is overcome in and by God alone who is "closer to us than we are to ourselves." As I wrote recently, in our hunger for being and meaning (that is, for the fullness or abundance of meaningful life,) we hunger for God and often know God's powerful presence best only in the sharpening and deepening of that hunger. I associate existential solitude with this hunger and with the sharpening of this solitude with both chronic illness and the call to eremitism.

The chronically ill already know the kind of solitude a hermit is called to get in touch with over time, though it may not be something they reflect on or come to appreciate. Those who are able-bodied are (or at least are more likely to be) less in touch with this deep solitude. They will come to know it in the various natural ways any hermit comes to know it in time, but perhaps not as profoundly; moreover, they will not be as likely to structure their life in terms of vows, prayer, and spiritual direction, that allow them to get into greater and greater touch with it. Discerning a true eremitical vocation takes real time, whether one has a chronic illness or not, but my sense is that some persons with chronic illness (not all) are meant to live their existential solitude even more radically than most persons with chronic illness. I believe this is necessary for them to be whole and holy persons. It is also essential if they are to witness to others that this foundational solitude is constituted especially by one's relationship with God lived in space and time. These persons will have discovered an eremitical vocation. Does this also make lemonade out of lemons? Yes, but it is not primarily about that, and it must be distinguished from that.

You see, for those without this vocation (and even with it), there is the question of whether one is JUST trying to make lemonade out of lemons. First of all, God can use the eremitical vocation to make lemonade, but this must still be God's project, not one's own! Was I trying to justify living as a hermit by convincing myself this was actually God's call? For me, this was a nagging question, though, through the years, it was countered more often and more profoundly than not. It took time to reach the depths of my own woundedness and discover there a Divine call to eremitical solitude, not just a neat way of justifying things that isolated me from others, prevented the use of personal gifts, or gave me a relatively restful life. The vocation to eremitical solitude is a vocation to engage with God at the point of one's existential solitude.** Physical solitude, silence, and prayer are essential helps and means to this but so are privileged relationships, for example. Still, it is a commitment to existential solitude and all that implies that defines the vocation, not merely physical solitude.

The question of how I discovered this is somewhat different. It began with an insight into c 603 and its possible place in my own life. I looked at that canon (even reading the canon at all, I believe, was providential) and began to see that it was a way of answering every question and yearning I experienced for a way to live my religious vocation that not only made space for but made sense of chronic illness at the same time. This was very like the deep insight I had had upon first attending Mass before I became a Catholic. On that occasion, as I knelt watching others go to Communion, I had the sense about the Church that "here every need I have, whether emotional, psychological, spiritual, intellectual, aesthetic, social, theological, etc., can be met." I was about fifteen years old then. But of course, the insight is not enough. It must be tested and proven in one's living.

So (the short version of things!), I began living eremitic life. As part of this, especially after perpetual profession and consecration, I also worked hard with my director to heal personal woundedness. Each major piece of work we undertook, each root of woundedness we dealt with, led to healing that was associated with the felt risk that I would discover I had been mistaken and was not really called to eremitical life as a Divine vocation. And yet, through the years (now 40 of them), each piece of healing came with a reaffirmation that I was indeed called to this by God. (I can go into details about this ongoing discernment another time, but for now, it is enough to say the Church affirmed this, my director affirmed it, and the fruits of my life and this work affirmed it.) Generally, the truth was that authentic eremitical life 1) was the very thing that called for the work we were doing, 2) it gave me the courage, will, and strength to undertake this work and sustained me in it, and 3) it was what I felt called to live upon "completion" of the work. (I say "completion" here because while we came to a significant point of healing, the work would also continue in a new key.) In any case, eremitical life proved again and again that it was the very reality that allowed for any significant healing to be accomplished. While the call to eremitical life made dealing with personal woundedness imperative, it also made it possible and fruitful for others.

The need to wrestle with existential solitude and the deepest truth of my identity throughout all of that was similar in both eremitical life, chronic illness, and personal woundedness. Each of these posed the crucial and sometimes excruciating questions of being (existence) and meaning (meaningful life) --- though in different ways; each touched on or tapped into what Tillich calls being grasped by an ultimate (or unconditional) concern and the gift of faith. The trick was teasing these apart from one another because similarity is not identity. Eventually, with eremitical life as the context, goal, and gift that made all of this possible, we reached the depths of personal woundedness, and part of the healing there (once again, but now without any nagging questions whatsoever) included the affirmation and bone-deep sense that I am a hermit because God, through the mediation of God's Church, calls me to be one. It is, in other words, the call that allows me to achieve wholeness and holiness and be the person I was created to be.

You can clarify what you are asking if I have largely missed your point, and I am happy to clarify my initial response as well. This is not easy stuff to explain so I am grateful for the opportunity.

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** Wherever I speak of eremitical life God is implicit in this term. Again, eremitical life is a life of personal engagement with God at the point of existential solitude.

In Him all Things Will Cohere!

[[Dear Sister, when you told the brief version of how you discovered a vocation to eremitical life and became a hermit, you said that you saw that perhaps this way of living would "make sense of" your entire life. I wondered if you could say more about the phrase "make sense of" because in part, it sounds like maybe you were looking for a way to validate a life you felt was meaningless. I wonder if that's a very good reason to try to live as a hermit. Is that really what a divine call looks like? Every other vocation story I have heard or read speaks about coming from a place of strength and knowing clearly that God was calling one to this. One hermit I know even talks about God saying to her directly that she was called to be a hermit. Yet, you are giving a very different picture of the way God called you to eremitical life. I just hoped you would say a little more about this, particularly if I am misunderstanding you. Thank you!]]

Thanks for your questions and observations. They are excellent and incredibly timely. Some people use the term "synchronicity" to describe this kind of timeliness. My Director and I often speak of the same thing and use the word "sacrednicity". I think that your questions are an example of that and maybe you'll see a little of why as I respond.

What I wrote in that recent piece with a brief version of the way I came to eremitical life and then to canonical eremitical life was true. And yet, in some ways, I have always felt a bit defensive about the very phrase you have asked about, "make sense of". But recently I was listening to Francis Kline OCSO speaking about Trappist life specifically and monastic life more generally. He was discussing the monastic value and vow of stability and how essential it is to living a monastic life. The reason he gave was that monastic life (and here you can substitute eremitical life) is about an inner journey and a stable structure was necessary to support this inner journey. Then, strikingly, he said, without that stable structure a person would either give up their attempt to make this inner journey, or their lives would become completely compartmentalized --- which, of course, would enervate, or vitiate and destroy the dynamism supporting the journey. In fact, compartmentalization would be antithetical to the inner journey itself, because it is one of healing, integration, and Communion growing to Union. I came to look at my own story in terms of compartmentalization and saw that my life had been fragmented, partly out of richness (a variety of talents and gifts including what I sensed as a call to religious life and a call to do theology) and partly because of chronic illness and disability; I needed a way to pull and hold all of these various dimensions together so that the inner journey that was compelling to me was truly possible.

Chronic illness and other factors already separated me, to some extent, from the world around me, and additionally, they threatened to dominate in such a way as to make living a coherent and intelligible life impossible. These parts or dimensions of my life called for a way to heal and achieve integration as much as the gifts and talents that were mine also called for this. In  Father Francis Kline's terminology I was looking for a stable structure, way, or vocational pathway that might heal the fragmentation I knew, and maybe even be beyond the power to fragment possessed by chronic illness, and the other factors present in my life. The way I ordinarily have said this to myself or to others has been that I was looking for a context within which I could be myself, and truly and wholly myself. I came upon canon 603 at a point of crisis, that is, an opportune point where decisions were necessary and urgent. I was vulnerable and open to hearing the will of God at this point. And when I read canon 603, I began to think that, indeed, this was possibly a way forward that allowed both strength and weakness to contribute to the inner and outer journeys I felt called to make with my life. There was never a reason to feel defensive because of my own needs. What c 603 seemed to promise was not the validation of isolation but its redemption!! And so it has done!

The Scripture behind all of this and that echoed in the background was Paul's statement in Colossians 1:17, [[[Christ] is before all things, and in him all things hold together (cohere)!]] For me then, c 603 provided a glimpse of a way to follow Christ that was profoundly healing and empowering. It provided a potentially stable structure and vision focused on the grace of God, and where that grace and the support of those God sends into my life allow me to live my life fully and for the sake of others. To answer your question about this, yes, I believe that for most of us, this is exactly what a divine call or vocation looks and sounds like. Few people I know hear some direct voice of God saying, "become a hermit"! Most of us have to listen for the opportunity embedded in a situation -- whatever the nature of that situation. We have to trust that God's love will find a way and that way will be offered to us in recognizable tones and keys, even if they are also very subtle ways. But that is what real discernment is like and about!! It means learning to hear the opportunity embedded in the complicated and sometimes chaotic as, in time, we discover that that opportunity is proffered to us by the very hand and heart of God. 

The insight I had when first reading c 603 was profound; that is, it both came from and spoke to the very deepest places within me and yet, it still called for a significant discernment process. It required study and prayer and discussion with my director and then too, with the Church's own representatives, and only over time did it resolve into a clarity that allowed me (and the Church as well) to say, yes, this is the will of God for me and yes, what it seemed to promise is real!! Canon 603 called me to the silence of solitude and therefore, to the redemption of an isolation occasioned by chronic illness and disability, as part of an inner journey in which all things cohere in Christ. Thanks be to God!

Looking at the term Charism: Does it Mean Anything for the c. 603 Hermit?

[[ Hi Sister Laurel, Sisters I know talk about the charism of their communities', and their missions. Does eremitical life have a charism? How about Consecrated Virginity? Can you help me understand what the word means? I was wondering if it would be helpful for lay people to have a sense of the charism of their own vocations. Does it make a difference for you?]]

First time questions, I think. Many thanks. In my life I identify the silence of solitude as the charism of solitary eremitical life. Because I identify solitude with more than external aloneness (I see it as a place of quiet and wholeness where the noise of human woundedness, struggle, and pain come to rest in the deepest truth of life and the peace of God), and I identify silence less with physical silence and more with hesychia or a kind of stillness that results when one's life is rightly ordered in terms relationships with God, self, and others, the silence of solitude represents the completion and fullness of life in relationship that occurs when God completes one and she exists in communion with God and God's creation (including one's own deepest and truest self).  This completion/fullness is a gift of the Holy Spirit and the fruit of the life of prayer, stricter separation, silence and solitude. The word charism reflects this gift quality (gifts = charisma) and it reflects a form of community absolutely foundational others also need and are made for.

Generally, a congregation's charism refers to a unique gift quality their life and ministry represent for both Church and world given as the Holy Spirit acts in conjunction with human beings to meet significant contemporary needs. When I think of eremitical life and especially that under c 603, assiduous prayer and penance are not unique to it, nor is stricter separation from the world. The Evangelical Counsels are not unique to it either, although all of these elements are gifts of God to the hermit and others. The one central element of c 603 which, it seems to me, orders all other elements towards significant contemporary needs is the silence of solitude.  Always more than the sum of its parts, the silence of solitude takes up all of the other elements of the eremitical life, and of c 603, and transforms them into a whole that can effectively proclaim the Gospel to every person.

You see, I understand the silence of solitude as a countercultural reality which speaks not only to religious persons, but to anyone seeking reassurance that the isolation of alienation which so marks and mars our world can be borne creatively and transfigured and transformed in the process.  Eremitical solitude is antithetical to alienation and isolation; it is relational through and through. The silence belonging to this solitude is not an anguished cry of emptiness, but a distinct song that rejoices in God's love as that love-in-act completes us as human beings and we come to live in union with God and the whole of God's creation. The term silence of solitude refers to the human person made whole and holy through the power of the Holy Spirit. It refers to what occurs when we are healed of the wounds that cause us to cry out in anguish or withdraw in fear and exhaustion from the struggle to live fully. It is the human being as language event brought to her most perfect and powerful fulfillment in God.

Think what it is like to sit quietly with a friend, without strain or competition or the need to prove oneself or be anyone other than the persons we are while resting in the presence of another. That moment of selfhood achieved while at rest in the life and presence of a friend (and in fact, is, in part,  made possible by that presence) is one of the silence of solitude. We all recognize such a moment as one in which alienation is overcome, the noisy striving of everyday life is quieted, and the human potential and need for profound relationship is, for the moment, realized. When the hermit rests in and enjoys the company of God in a similar way, when, that is, she becomes God's covenant partner and allows God to be hers in all she is and does, something similar but even greater and more definitive occurs. It is this that I believe c 603 recognizes as the silence of solitude; moreover, it is something every person yearns for and hermits witness to with their lives. Thus, I identify the silence of solitude as the context, goal, and charism of the eremitical life.

Does the fact that my life is charismatic and has a specific charism make a difference for me? Yes, absolutely.  For instance, because I have a sense of the charism of my vocation it means recognizing that my life is lived for others and therefore, that the call to wholeness and holiness in silence and solitude can never be allowed to become or remain a selfish or me-centered reality. It means recognizing and committing to living this vocation well because, as Thomas Merton once said, this life "makes certain claims about nature and grace"; to live it badly is to fail to allow it to witness to the truth of such claims, namely, that whoever we are and in whatever situation or condition, our God delights in and desires to complete us and bring us to fulness of life with and in God himself. It means insisting that dioceses and candidates understand this charism so that vocations to c 603 life are understood as significant and needed vocations, and discernment and formation processes (including the ongoing formation processes of consecrated hermits as well as those of candidates for profession/consecration) are undertaken carefully with equally significant rigor. 

When we forget the charism of this vocation (or any other vocation for that matter), we open the door to professing and consecrating those who can neither live nor witness to others in the way a c 603 hermit is called to do. I have been convinced for some time that it is in neglecting the charism of this vocation (that is, in forgetting that this vocation has a charism and is essentially charismatic) that we open the door to fraudulent hermits and stopgap vocations that are disedifying and even scandalous. Once dioceses identify the charism of this vocation, they will have a better way of discerning vocations to eremitical life under c 603. I think that the same is true of any vocation, including the vocation to lay life in the Church, Understanding the gift quality of any vocation helps one to live it well and to commit to growing in this ability for the whole of one's life.

Clarification: Are you Saying We must Deny our Suffering?

[[Dear Sister, you are not saying a person must hide or deny their illness or suffering are you? I know you read [Joyful Hermit's] blog and she seems to believe you (or maybe it's someone else she reads) are saying that one ought to hide their suffering or illness.]]

Yes, I read Joyful Hermit's blog and if she is referring to my position on the place of suffering in a hermit's witness, she seems to have seriously misread or misunderstood it. In any case, I am certainly not saying one must hide or deny their illness and suffering --- although there will assuredly be times when revealing these is not helpful and may even be harmful or destructive to the witness one is called to give. One must know (discern) when such times are and be able to act appropriately. What I have said very clearly instead, is that one's illness must not define them. It will condition or qualify everything but it cannot be allowed to dominate (note the link to lordship or sovereignty in this word). I have also said that one's illness or suffering must become transparent to the love and life of God. In part this means a hermit's illness or suffering will not obscure the witness to the life and love of God a Canon 603 hermit will give to others. In part, it means it will remain unseen and unspoken of until and unless it can serve the witness to the mercy, love, and life of God we are each called to manifest to others. And in part, it therefore means learning to witness to realities that allow us to transcend our suffering, not by leaving it behind or denying it, but by allowing it to be transfigured in light of the grace and mercy of God. Please note the distinction between sovereignty (defining) and servanthood (conditioning) in these two manifestations of illness or suffering.

We read accounts of the Risen Christ's appearance to others after Jesus' passion and death. We use images of the risen Christ on crucifixes today. Both of these are important in understanding what this learning will look like. Consider that when Jesus appeared to his disheartened and terrified disciples he was not without wounds and scars, even in his risen state. Thomas was invited to put a hand in Jesus' side. Even so, it is not the wounds and scars that dominate the picture. When we look at a crucifix with the risen Christ, the cross and all it represents is clearly present, but it does not dominate what we see or what we are called to believe. In each of these examples of Christian suffering and redemption, it is life, love, and joy that are dominant. The cross conditions everything and, as it should for Christians, it will always do so; after all, with Paul, we believe in a crucified Christ as the source of authentic life and hope. But the cross does not define who Jesus was nor who he is today as God's own Christ. In all of this, the cross is a servant of God's life and love, and it is this life and love which is dominant.

Illness is an incredibly important reality that we must learn to live with and accommodate appropriately, while not allowing it to swallow us up in the process. One of the crucial ways of doing so is by learning to live from and for the life and love of God. This is a difficult process and takes time to achieve. Anyone with a chronic illness knows the ways we learn to accommodate (and, alternately, sometimes even collude with) it. Illness limits but we anticipate these limits and the disappointments that accompany them and, unfortunately, over time we may even begin to limit ourselves. Illness does not do this; we do. Eventually, we will have a whole host of limitations associated with illness and suffering --- many of which can be unlearned and transcended. But it takes something really powerful to encourage and enable us to do this. In my experience, it is the unconditional love of God mediated to me by others as well as in prayer which makes this possible. Yes, there will be significant work in spiritual direction and perhaps even in therapy or in the kind of inner work (PRH) I have spoken of before, but more and more, one's suffering assumes the place of the cross in representations of the risen Christ --- important ("critical" -- pun intended!) but not dominant. A hermit's vocation (and there are a number of us with chronic illnesses!) is to make evident this kind of transparency to the love of God.

I do hope this helps to clarify my position for anyone for whom I failed to be clear. Let me know if it raises more questions.

What One Looks for When a Hermit is Chronically Ill

[[Dear Sister do you look for different things when a person is chronically ill than when they are physically well? I mean in people who want to be professed or live as hermits.]]

Great question, thanks! Generally speaking I (or those discerning such vocations) look for the same things I/we look for in any putative eremitical life. It becomes especially important though to see an essential wellness in a hermit who is chronically ill, I think. Because illness itself isolates us from others and may result in a life which is seriously cut off socially, it is critical that one shows evidence of truly being called by God to eremitical solitude, and thus, to the redemption of the isolation caused by or a consequence of chronic illness. Chronic illness and the isolation it occasions must not be mistaken for eremitical solitude or a call to this. The situation is more complex and requires significant, careful (and often lengthy) discernment,

At the same time I need to say that chronic illness should not be used as an excuse to live a mitigated eremitical life or profess and consecrate someone as a hermit. It is true that the eremitical life of one who is chronically ill will be shaped differently than the life of one who is not, and one can only do what one can do, but the central elements of canon 603, for instance, will still be lived in clear and recognizable ways. It will still be a life of assiduous prayer and penance, stricter separation from the world, the silence of solitude, the evangelical counsels, a Rule the hermit writes herself, and supervision by the bishop and those he delegates to serve in this way. Chronic illness will touch (condition) everything in such an eremitical life but it will not define it nor the person called to it!! When a person is defined by their illness, when what is supposed to be a divine call and witness to Divine Life and wholeness is overshadowed by physical or mental illness and this is all the person can speak about, we can conclude the person has not (or at least not yet!) been called by God to live eremitical life in the name of the Church and her Gospel.

Over the past few years I have stressed the importance of a redemptive experience being at the heart of any authentic eremitical life. It is absolutely critical that someone already isolated from others because of illness experiences such a redemptive "moment". Characteristically we will see isolation transfigured into solitude, a solitude which is marked by community and grounded in a lifegiving relationship with God in Christ. It will also be a solitude open to the pain of others and capable of speaking a word which heals and inspires. I have known this because of my own experience with both chronic illness and eremitical life, and also because of theology and the witness of Scripture. It has also been underscored by examples of its antithesis --- examples of counterfeit hermits whose lives do not edify in the way a hermit's must. When a person and all they say and do is defined by their illness, not simply qualified or conditioned by it, when their life is mainly a plaint or paean of pain, such a person is not credible as a hermit. What must dominate in spite of very significant pain and suffering is the person's essential wholeness and happiness in God.

My own motto and guide for what I believe one should see when discerning such a vocation in oneself or in others is Paul's, [[My grace is sufficient for you, my power is perfected in weakness,]] If we are ill then the power of God's own love and holiness must shine through in a way which transfigures our illness and allows it to become transparent to this greater truth. I certainly don't mean that we must deny or hide our illness or that we cannot mention it. I have spoken here a number of times about 1) my intractable seizure disorder and chronic pain, and 2) the inner healing and growth work I am doing with my Director; but what I think is true and I hope is evident from this blog, is that significant as these things are, they do not define me. Rather it is the grace. love, and life of God that define me. (This is something most folks with chronic illness have to deal with. Paul's insights into the paradoxical nature of Christian life are very helpful here.) So, again, I personally look for the same things in a "candidate" for profession or someone seeking to become a hermit whether they are chronically ill or physically well; because a hermit serves by the witness they give to the healthy and even the redemptive nature of solitude, it becomes much more critical that essential wellness is the dominant reality when one is dealing with someone who is chronically ill.

On the relationship of Chronic Illness to Eremitical Solitude

 

[[Dear Sister Laurel, it seems to me that your insistence that eremitical solitude is not a matter of isolation but an experience of community has close ties with the way you experience chronic illness. I realized recently that isolation is a key problem for those with chronic illness and was led to your blog. As a result of my reading I wondered if you have been sensitized to the relationship of isolation to solitude by both chronic illness and eremitical life? Do you ever think about the way these two pieces of your vocation are related?  Assuming you do, have you ever wondered if your own chronic illness has led to an illegitimate conclusion about the relationship of isolation and solitude in eremitical life?]]

Wow! Really excellent observations and questions! Definitely make me want to ask you about your own background  (psychology, theology, spirituality, etc). Thank you. I would answer all of your questions in the affirmative except the last one about an illegitimate conclusion. That one I would argue has to be answered in the negative. In one way and another I have thought about the relationship between isolation and solitude and the way chronic illness is related to eremitical life not just occasionally but in an ongoing way for the last 50 years!

While both my own chronic illness and eremitical life sensitized me to the relationship between isolation and solitude and their distinction from one another, they did so in a mutually illustrative way. Moreover, it was precisely my move to eremitical solitude which represented a final move from the isolation of chronic illness to solitude itself. This move from isolation to solitude, something which comes with and requires growth and healing in an ongoing way, is part of the redemptive experience I have said is necessary in discerning an eremitical vocation --- at least it is part of the redemptive experience at the heart of my own eremitical vocation! If eremitical life is about isolation rather than solitude, or if these two things are not distinguishable, then eremitical solitude would have increased the isolation associated with chronic illness and could in no way have been redemptive for me. It has done just the opposite. Because of this, because the fruit of eremitical life actually was the redemption of isolation associated with a medically and surgically intractable seizure disorder couple with a Regional Complex Pain Syndrome, I have been able to move back and forth in my own reflection on eremitical solitude, between solitude's nature and quality, the ways the isolation of this illness can be redeemed, and also the idea of chronic illness as (potential eremitical) vocation. These three elements especially are interwoven in my thought and writing.

 Originally I dealt only with chronic illness and the tension between my own need and desire to be part of ordinary life in the ways "everyone else" supposedly is. I was educated in systematic theology and had prepared to teach and otherwise minister in the Church and Academy but could not because of chronic illness. Eventually, because of my engagement with theology (especially Paul's theology of the cross and a strong theology of language or theological linguistics), my work in spiritual direction, reflection on Scripture (especially Paul and Mark), and my own prayer, I came to think about chronic illness as vocation. The heart of the gospel message I heard was: "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness!" (2 Cor 12:9) In 1983 canon 603 was published as part of the Revised Code of Canon Law and that triggered some more thought while it led me to the idea not just of chronic illness as vocation but as a potential vocation to eremitical life. In all of this I was looking at the way a person who is chronically ill is searching for ways to live a meaningful life and see their life as one of genuine value. When illness prevents so much, especially meaningful ways of giving of oneself and living community, what does one do? How can one look at things and find meaning? How can one be who one is most deeply called to be? Does chronic illness need to prevent one finding and living the answers to these questions?

After some time living an experiment in eremitical life I decided I had discovered the context for living my own vocation to authentic humanity. It was here I began thinking and praying in a more focused way about the distinction between solitude and isolation. I realized more and more that the two were different and was beginning to see more clearly that eremitical solitude (only one kind of solitude afterall) might, in fact, represent the redemption of isolation -- both generally and for me specifically. Out of this experience came a number of strands of thought: physical v inner solitude (a perennial distinction in the thought of every hermit), stereotypes of eremitical life, the distinction between validating and redeeming isolation, the way God alone is sufficient for us --- what this means and does not mean, becoming the Word of God, person as question and God as completing answer, relinquishing discrete gifts for the gift one is made to be by God, the necessity of a redemptive experience at the heart of one's eremitical life in discerning such vocations, the communal nature of solitude, the indispensable place of spiritual direction in eremitical life, and especially the silence of solitude as context, goal, and charism of eremitical  life. At the heart of all of these is the redemptive activity of God and especially the way the grace of God transforms isolation into solitude and renders chronic illness and the life touched by chronic illness richly meaningful and profoundly humanized. Illness raised the existential question of meaning for me; Eremitical life proved to be the context mediating God's own answer to that question --- the answer that God alone can be for every person.

Because of all of this I would have to say that chronic illness has led me to understand some things about eremitical life I might not have appreciated as much otherwise. I believe chronic illness has thus been a gift which sensitized me to dynamics inherent in the hermit vocation, not only the nature of eremitical solitude as an experience of community and the way it cannot be used to validate misanthropy and isolation from others, but also the way the person we become through God's love is the gift we bring to the Church in place of discrete gifts and talents we may have to give up or leave unrealized. At the same time chronic illness is part of the way God has shaped my own heart into the heart of a hermit. Far from agreeing that it has led me to an illegitimate conclusion re the relationship between isolation and solitude. I believe it prepared me to raise the question in a particularly urgent and acute way while opening me to the answer embodied in or represented by eremitical life.

I suspect you were not looking for such an autobiographical answer, and to be sure, I could have outlined my answer in a less personal way; however, I really have been living the question and the answer in one way and another through the whole of my adult life. I sincerely hope this is helpful!

Catching Up and Questions on Suffering Well

The latest Planned power outage is well over here in Lafayette and another one planned for early Wednesday morning into Thursday was put on hold. I am grateful because while I can manage many things without power some things are simply very difficult or impossible without it (hot showers, laundry, hot food). We actually had a couple of fires here in Lafayette and watched planes drop fire retardant and helicopters dropping water to prevent forward movement during wind events. There were some evacuations but they were short-lived, thanks be to God! Meanwhile, North of here the Kincaid fire continues with limited control (about 47%) and South of here (several hours) the Getty fire threatens museums, colleges, Motherhouses I know, and other institutions as well as many individual residences. 

I  have received some questions about a post I put up in June on the notion of suffering well (cf, Question on Suffering well). (Sorry but it took a couple of days to actually write an answer and there are other questions still waiting; I appreciate everyone's patience.) At this point in time, when so many people here in my state are suffering tragic losses, displacement, inability to work, etc., it is timely to be reminded of it. In that piece and the follow up (Followup on Suffering well: Suffering and the will of God) I wrote that for me the only way to suffer well was to live well in Christ in spite of suffering. I also wrote that it is important to distinguish between Jesus' suffering at the hands of humankind and what God willed for him.

Here I wrote that God wills Jesus to live a fully human life and death, but God did not specifically will Jesus' torture and suffering on the cross. It is true that if Jesus embraces authentic or genuine humanity in self-emptying and solidarity with God and others his life will entail profound suffering but what God wills for Jesus are those choices which bring greater and greater life, not choices simply for greater and greater suffering. Is there a difference? Yes. it is possible to will that a person lives fully and accepts the consequences of that life without willing the consequences per se. Think of parents who send their children to public schools. They will their children get all the benefits of a rich and diverse educational milieu; they do not will their children get bullied or run into teachers who are burned out but have tenure, for instance. Or think of the  Peace corps; it sends people all over the world to assist those in need. It does not will these workers become victims of mercenaries, etc. And yet, these unwilled consequences do occur.

So what were the follow up questions? They included: 1) Isn't our suffering reparational? Don't we make up for what is lacking in Jesus' suffering? 2) How do we distinguish between the suffering that comes as part of life and suffering that we can't let go of or that we take on rather than choosing life? and 3) why is it so hard to let go of suffering?

It is true that Colossians 1:24 speaks of making up for what was lacking in the sufferings of Christ but what does this mean? Does it mean, for instance, that Christ's own sufferings per se were insufficient and must be supplemented with our own --- as though Christ's passion was  objectively inadequate for the redemption of all creation? No, I don't think we can ever suggest such a thing. Objectively speaking Christ's passion, death, and descent were a perfect sacrifice marked by perfect obedience (perfect openness to and trust in God) and destroyed sin and death. But subjectively speaking the fruits of Jesus' passion, death, descent, and resurrection must become our own, that is we must embrace the life he brought to us as the Risen Christ in the Spirit of God, and we must do so as fully and faithfully as we can. This will mean learning to let go of a great deal (including a great deal of bad theology and spirituality), just as it will mean allowing the love of God to heal us of a great deal --- and both of these processes will entail suffering at the service of healing and selfless or generous life --- but it does not mean embracing suffering which, whether implicitly or explicitly, claims that the passion of Jesus was inadequate in some way.

Jesus' death allows the Love of God (the Love-in-act that IS God) to overcome all of those things which mark us as alienated from God. It does this with Jesus taking all of these things into himself while remaining open to God's presence and refusing to let these godless things separate him from God. This refusal to let sin and death separate him from God opens these realities to God. In absolute vulnerability Jesus took on sin and death (and thus every form of godlessness) and remained obedient to God (open and vulnerable to both suffering and the God who brings life out of nothingness) so that God might triumph over these things. Not only because of the weight of what he took on, but because of his openness and vulnerability, Jesus' suffering and death was more intense and deeper than anything you or I will ever know. But it also allowed God to enter into (or, from another perspective,  to take these things into himself) and transform them with his presence. Objectively speaking, sin and death were destroyed; they were transformed from godless realities into realities where God might be met face to face.

The result is the perspective we hear from Paul in tomorrow's reading from Romans 8 [[ If God is for us, who can be against us? 32He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all-how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died-more than that, who was raised to life-is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36As it is written: "For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered." 37No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our LORD.]]

Does this sound like Paul (who only may have written Colossians) thought there was anything objectively lacking in Jesus' passion and death? No. At the same time, however, Paul knows that suffering continues and some must be embraced, not in reparation for sins (God in Christ is victorious over sin and death) but in order that we ourselves may embrace life and witness to the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. God's objective victory over sin and death must be appropriated subjectively so that one day God might be all in all. It is only in this sense that we can speak of our own suffering (and our own victories over suffering as life is more and more fully embraced!!) as reparative with the accent on repair not reparation.

Why is it so Hard to Let Go of Suffering? 

Suffering is a very difficult reality for us. It seems meaningless and it tends to make our lives seem meaningless as well as it cuts us off from work, recreation. relationships, and, more profoundly, a sense of self which seems truly valuable. While all of this seems like a great reason to let go of suffering for some this suffering becomes a part of their very identity. When that is exacerbated by flawed theodicies --- theologies of evil/suffering in light of the goodness of God --- that validate suffering even when this occurs at the expense of life and choices for health, it becomes especially difficult to let go of suffering. For instance, the notion of victim souls is one of these approaches that validates one's suffering despite the problem that it diminishes the degree and meaning of the suffering of others. Similarly, but in less dramatic interpretations our suffering can make us feel special; we don't feel like victim souls but we may be victims in some sense and that can make us feel special, something hard to let go of.

Likewise it can become hard to let go of suffering when one has chronic illness which makes it intimidating to live without the limitations it imposes; we have to learn how to live a fuller life than illness allowed and that can be frightening. Even without the secondary gain associated with our illness this can be true. I think there are many reasons letting go of suffering becomes difficult for us and I have only mentioned a couple, but my own concern is with interpretations of suffering and evil that make them the will of God in one way and another. The versions of these theologies I have seen (heard or read) make of God something abhorrent. This God is not a God of life, a God who takes on sin and suffering in order to destroy them ultimately. Neither in these theologies is suffering a symptom of our estrangement from God (i.e., sin) nor do they draw a sufficient distinction between the permissive and active wills of God. The "God" they give us is a "God" who torments his creation -- but then they dress it up in pious language --- the language of reparation, discipline, and atonement. (Suffering can be a source of discipline, but generally this is because grace transforms pain from being something merely intolerable or destructive into a suffering that can occasion growth.)

It feels wonderful to believe God has chosen us. On the other hand it feels awful to be different from others, especially when the difference is caused by something like chronic illness or the sense we are not special to anyone. Some of us learn that God loves us no matter what and that we have value because of this. When we come to know ourselves as loved by God so too can we know ourselves as the same as others and simultaneously special; we will cease to need our illness as something that sets us apart or makes us special. Others, however, learn somehow that their suffering is an expression of God's love or that they are only loved by God to the extent they suffer. When this happens it may be almost impossible to let go of suffering and the victim status that seems to me to be a form of bondage unworthy of the Son/Daughter of God. But the God of Jesus Christ is the God who asks us to live well and offers us opportunities for ever-fuller or more abundant life -- even in the face of chronic illness for which little can be done. We Christians are called to learn to embrace these opportunities first of all and only thereafter and secondarily the forms of suffering which are consequences of living well in Christ.

So how do we distinguish between suffering that is a consequence of living well and is embraced as a part of living well and that which is more primary and can lead to a life of victimhood? I think sometimes it is a fine line, but not always. A number of years ago I wrote about someone who had made a "vow of suffering". Part of that vow was a promise to extend or prolong a life of suffering and a related promise to choose whichever option provided greater suffering. I admit the entire idea was appalling to me. I think we have to ask ourselves what are we choosing first of all and what are its fruits in the here and now: does it lead us to greater human wholeness, love of others, generosity, ability to empty ourselves and embrace responsible freedom? Does it take advantage of opportunities which lead to greater human wholeness and the ability to participate in community (and yes, even hermits need to be cognizant and careful of this for isolation and solitude are not the same thing!!)? For instance, do we act to end what suffering isolates us and curtails our life and especially our life in community when this is possible using normal remedies or do we turn in on ourselves and create an idol who supposedly wills our suffering and our isolation and diminishment as human beings in some sort of propitiation for the sinful condition of humanity?

It is absolutely possible to choose life and the suffering that comes from that (i.e., all kinds of sacrifice and forms of self-emptying which serve life and wholeness in ourselves and others) without believing God wills our suffering. At the same time it will be necessary to embrace the God who has chosen to be with us in all things including our suffering so that life in and of God can be truly sovereign here and now in this world. Our task in Christ is to allow heaven to ever more fully penetrate our world so that in and through our lives the Kingdom of God is truly at hand! We are not to be focused on heaven in a way which orients our life toward escaping this world; we are focused on heaven (life in and with God shared with all) in a way which transforms everything we touch with the love and life of God. If the God we believe in does not call us to a life committed to the transformation of all creation and to the sacrifices necessary to make that truly possible (unnecessary suffering actually stands in the way of this), then we are not believing/trusting in the God of Jesus Christ.

I hope this is helpful. If you have questions about specific examples of suffering and whether they fall into one category of suffering or the other please get back to me. Discerning when we are choosing life and suffering as a consequence as opposed to choosing suffering which is really a rejection of life can be difficult in some instances but in this as in every other thing we choose , the gospel admonition, "it is by their fruits that you will know them" is our ultimate criterion.

On Canon 603 and the Chronically Ill and Disabled (follow-up questions)

 [[Dear Sister, I have been interested in an article you wrote several years ago about eremitical life as a possible vocation for those who are chronically ill. Do dioceses consider that article when they are discerning whether or not to profess someone as a diocesan hermit? What about canon law that argues that candidates for religious life and priesthood must be in good health? Doesn't what you wrote conflict with these canons or do dioceses determine things on a case-by-case basis? I would think it might be a problem for dioceses to have writers like you seeing canon 603 as a kind of "haven" for those with mental and physical illnesses, wouldn't it? . . . Has anyone ever suggested your article makes it hard for dioceses considering canon 603 vocations?.... Has anyone suggested you are giving false hope to those who are disabled and expect to be admitted to profession when dioceses are really more likely to reject them?]]

Wow, good and difficult questions in some ways. Let me give them a shot! First of all, I have no idea if dioceses consider the article I wrote 30 years ago for Review for Religious (cf RFR archives: Volume 48, Number 2, March/April 1989). Certainly, there are copies out and about regarding this even though RFR is no longer, being published; also, I have posted a copy of it here on this blog ( cf, Review For Religious, Chronic Illness as Vocation and Possible Eremitical Vocation) as well as answered questions about it as follow-up. However, I really cannot say how widely read or influential the article is or has been over the years. On the other hand,  I hope that at least some dioceses, pastors, and spiritual directors have read and considered the article and that they bear it in mind as they consider candidates for public profession under c 603 or work with those who are chronically ill. Chronic illness prevents many of us from living in community and sometimes (I don't know how often) it may condition us in ways which predispose towards lives of the silence of solitude -- lives in which the isolation occasioned by chronic illness can be redeemed and transfigured into the silence of solitude associated with eremitical life. Dioceses must be able to recognize this dynamic at work in the lives of the chronically ill when it occurs and, when circumstances are right (meaning when many more circumstances than illness per se come together in the relatively clear pattern of a healthy and graced eremitical calling), they must be open to admitting such persons to profession and consecration under canon 603.

I wrote the article you mentioned because I had come to understand that while I could not live religious life in community (my illness was both too demanding and too disruptive --- though initially we had not thought this would be the case), I could certainly live as a hermit. In fact, I came to understand that the context of eremitical silence and solitude could allow my own life in  and with Christ to transform weakness and brokenness into a source and form of strength and essential wellness. I knew Paul's theology, "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness," and it seemed to fit the  situation perfectly. At the same time, while illness and the isolation it occasioned was one predisposing condition for a life of eremitical solitude, it was not enough of itself to suggest, much less indicate I had an eremitical vocation. On the contrary, it might have suggested that physical isolation was a component of something pathological that must be countered, not given the chance to be transfigured into eremitical solitude via even greater silence and physical separation from others.  For that reason, when I wrote the article in RFR I was very careful to indicate chronic illness was something which might indicate such a vocation; it was a possibility dioceses and spiritual directors should consider as they worked with those who were chronically ill or disabled.

In no way would I ever consider canon 603 a "haven" for the chronically ill and disabled but yes, I do think that despite its demanding character, eremitical life has the flexibility and freedom to allow for some among this population to discover the grace of God calling them to a wholeness and holiness via this path. When this happens their lives will makes a powerful witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ --- in spite of and even especially in the case of their illness/disability. What Merton said about the necessity of Solitude herself opening the door to the one who would be a hermit remains true. I do believe that the canons requiring good physical and mental health for those entering religious congregations or moving towards ordination are necessary. However, today congregations can and do make case-by-case decisions on who they will allow to enter and who they will advance to profession while congregations and dioceses do the same with candidates for ordination. There are some absolute impediments to ordination, and  generally speaking, I agree with these, but profession as a diocesan hermit is really a very different matter and dioceses can afford to be more flexible without making the vocation a "haven" for the chronically ill and disabled; not only do hermits not live in community but they are self-supporting so that dioceses are not, generally speaking, responsible for medical expenses, insurance, living expenses and the like.

No one has ever suggested my article makes it hard for dioceses trying to discern c 603 vocations, though I admit I hoped when I wrote it to introduce a possibility into their discernment processes they might not have considered adequately, namely, that chronic illness might be a source of the grace of an eremitical vocation which itself could contribute to eremitical formation in terms of several different and critical values (pilgrimage, solitude vs isolation, an independence rooted in radical dependence upon God, a paradoxical wholeness, etc). That was completely contrary to the wisdom of the time re religious vocations; but then canon 603 itself was also pretty contrary to what we were used to at that time as well! Again, my article did not argue that chronic illness is a kind of passport to profession. I did not say that illness provides sufficient grounds for professing someone or discerning eremitical vocations; it argued that in some cases there was the possibility that illness might condition one towards such a vocation, might make it easier for such a vocation to be received. At the same time then, I have not heard anyone suggest I am giving folks false hope. I have been clear that discerning an eremitical vocation takes time and serious attention and prayer; I  know that some dioceses may not consider chronic illness in the way I would hope they would, but at the same time I think dioceses in general do recognize the flexibility and freedom built into canon 603 even while they recognize the demanding nature of the life codified there.

It is the case that I hear occasionally from someone who is chronically ill or disabled and who read my article all those years ago (or more recently for that matter!) and have subsequently been profoundly disappointed by a diocese who will not admit them to profession. Those communications are some of the most difficult I receive; they cause me pain because my article did have a place in encouraging their imagination about and discernment of a vocation; I feel particularly sorry for the individuals involved and empathize with their disappointment. The difficulty of balancing the nature of a public vocation (consecrated life is always a matter of public commitments and obligations) and discerning a call in someone whose life does not fit all the standard criteria or who embody the grace of  God in a new and unexpected way, is very difficult for dioceses as well as for the individuals petitioning for admission to profession and consecration. Sometimes the answer is living eremitical life with a private commitment rather than as a consecrated hermit or anchorite. Sometimes the person needs to transition from the isolation occasioned by their illness to solitude-as-healing, and then to life in society. Sometimes (especially in these kinds of cases I think) both the individual and the diocese need to take more time together in their discernment. Canon 603, because it does not codify any specific time frames, certainly allows for this kind of time if dioceses take both its traditional elements and its uniqueness seriously.

What must be certain is that the person advanced to profession (public vows) and eventually to consecration can live c 603 in an exemplary (that is, an edifying) way which helps dispel the stereotypes which so accrued to eremitical life throughout history. This person MUST say to the whole Church that eremitical solitude is not about isolation but is instead about the redemption of isolation into a unique and often obscure but very real form of community lived in and with Christ for the sake of others. This is why I have written those admitted to profession must have experienced eremitical solitude as redemptive and be able to witness to that clearly with their lives. The witness given depends upon the authenticity and depth of the hermit's experience and ecclesial rootedness. This presence of a redemptive element is something I have put forward as a central element in discerning an eremitical vocation under c 603 and it is something I am more clear about now than when I first affirmed it. Still, if dioceses are to demand the presence of such an element they also MUST, for their part, be open to discerning its presence which builds on chronic illness and/or disability. The process leading to c 603 profession and consecration is meant be truly mutual.

On My Own Decision to Pursue Consecration Under Canon 603

[[Dear Sister Laurel, you discerned whether to live your eremitical vocation as a lay hermit or as a canon 603 hermit didn't you? What made you decide to go for canon 603 or to not settle for lay eremitical life when that was looking like what you would need to do because of your diocese's hesitance to profess anyone under c 603? I know you say both vocations are valuable so I wondered why you chose to jump through the hoops it took to get canonical standing, especially given the long wait this entailed.]]

This is a great question (thanks for reading up in this blog; it shows in your question!). While I haven't talked about this for some time I have posted on it in indirect ways so I hope you'll look for those posts. It was natural for me to look to canon 603 profession and canonical standing as the way to establish one in an ecclesial vocation, not only because of my background in religious life, but because of my background in theology. I also had some experience of  non-canonical religious life which ostensibly used regional service roles as the means to governance but lacked any authoritative structures to deal with problems with community-wide implications. I saw several times where people without leadership (service) roles, but who were very much "power people" in their local communities and thus, in the community as a  whole, took advantage of situations to exploit or otherwise act unjustly toward those they disagreed with or perhaps didn't like.

These exploited or badly-treated persons had no canonical protections in such situations nor did they have any meaningful recourse to leadership or governance structures. There was an attractive but naïve idealism in this community, but idealism alone can't always deal with concrete situations; as a result there were some significant failures in justice. This was one of the first times I clearly saw that law could serve love -- particularly when idealism was inadequate to deal with human sinfulness and will-to-power. When the community shifted from a relatively neutral non-canonical to an anti-canonical stance things were exacerbated and my insight into the positive and complementary role of law made me consider the role and importance of canon law more than I had up until this point. Thus, when I began reading in canon law (1983) the New Code had just come out. I discovered both canons 603 and 604 on eremites/anchorites and consecrated virgins, as well as canon 605 which is addressed to bishops encouraging openness to new forms of consecrated life. Already a contemplative and still in community, I began thinking and reading about eremitical life then and it captured my imagination. A year or so later contacted my diocese for the first time about professing me as a hermit. Then began a long process of meeting with a Vicar in the Archdiocese of San Francisco who understood c 603 and then regular meetings for 5 years with Sister Susan Blomstad, OSF who became the Vicar for Religious and Vocations director for the Diocese of Oakland.

Eventually (during these five years) the diocese decided it would profess no one under c 603 for the foreseeable future --- a shock to Sister Susan and to myself --- because neither of us were informed of the decision in a timely way. By the time we were both informed, I was established as a hermit and it suited me well. Whether in community, as a c 603 hermit, or as a lay hermit I knew I would continue living eremitical life. I remember telling my director that I wished the Church would recognize how the Holy Spirit was working in my life (structured according to c 603) but if she would or could not I would continue living as I was. And so I did. Lay eremitical life would have been fine, had it seemed God was calling me to that --- but I eventually decided I needed to approach Bp John Cummins again before he retired and try to get my situation "regularized". I had learned I personally needed the structure of canonical standing and profession to live eremitical life in the heart of the church and continued to be struck by what it meant to be part of an ecclesial vocation and all that meant. That whole process took some time (lost letters, lost files, misfiled missives) and John Cummins had left office before the Chancellor contacted me to apologize and put in a word with the new Vicars for Religious. It took 23 years from the time I first knocked on the chancery door (so to speak) to the day I was perpetually professed as a diocesan hermit in 2007.

So why go through all the hassle? Why not live as a lay hermit? I was very clear about how God was working in my life with a call to eremitical life and that clarity deepened over the years. It was especially clear given my celibate experience, flourishing in silence and solitude, and what I experienced as a nuptial relationship with Christ. Moreover, I knew that if this vocation could function as a context for growth and real freedom for me it might well do that for others --- but only if dioceses were not afraid to use the canon and if they could see that eremitical life was a true vocation. You see, the world in which we live is tremendously individualistic, consumerist, and marked by isolation. Eremitical life is a paradoxical expression of life in prophetic witness against these things --- but the demands on dioceses for determining the distinction between these is significant. Yet, without its specifically ecclesial context this prophetic quality of authentic eremitical life cannot, it seems to me, be made as clear  as the hermit needs to do.

The freedom of the hermit requires a framework which establishes this both in the church and vis-a-vis society and the larger world. Canon 603 provides such a context. It represents a protective and challenging structure which defines eremitical life and the freedom thereof in contrast to a dehumanizing individualism, and contra the isolation and consumerism of so much contemporary life. Consecration under c 603 gives  one permission to explore the freedom of the Gospel lived in and towards the silence of solitude in the very heart of the church. This is a very great gift to the hermit and to the world. I felt called to live this this gift of God and its paradoxical witness not only so others could see what the Holy Spirit was doing in the church generally with this vocation, but in my own life as well.

Eremitical life is salvific for some of us. It has been salvific for me --- especially in its power to transform various forms and degrees of isolation into eremitical solitude. I believe others could benefit from this, both from the example of what canonical hermits live and from my own story. Some very few might find vocations to eremitical life while others might see a prophetic witness to the power of the Gospel in their own state of life. I don't live eremitical life because I wanted to do this or because it validates isolation or some misguided individualism. I did not choose canonical standing because I like canon law (though I think canon 603 is a thing of real beauty). I do it because via eremitical life God has been at work redeeming and transfiguring my life and I must honor and witness to that --- and I must do that in a way which says law serves love, reasonable structure protects real freedom, and living all of this in the heart of the Church through her People and institutions (including canon law, legitimate superiors, etc) can give witness and serve as challenging to the Church as well. Not everyone has my background or needs canon law to do all of this. I did and do; for this reason I chose to jump through all the hoops associated with becoming a consecrated Catholic Hermit, that is, a canon 603 hermit who lives an ecclesial eremitical life in the heart, name, and on behalf of the Church.