On Time Frames in Discerning and Forming Solitary Eremitical Vocations

[[Dear Sr Laurel, your post on chronic illness stressed the mutual nature of the discernment process between the diocese and candidate for canon 603 profession. You said something about time frames not being fixed under Canon 603. What did you mean here?.... Then can dioceses take as long as they want in making a decision about admitting someone to profession? How about the candidates, can they draw out the process as long as they want? (I don't mean there's any sneaky motives going on here. I hope you understand my meaning.) . . .What is a reasonable time frame and does this differ with someone with a chronic illness or disability than with someone who is entirely well?]]

Thanks for the follow up. With religious life canon law specifies the amount of time given to candidacy (a formal period in initial formation unlike the way I use the term with regard to c 603), novitiate, temporary profession, and the outside limits beyond which one must either be perpetually (or solemnly) professed or dismissed from the institute. Because of the nature of formation in community and the degree of oversight and direct supervision involved, these time frames are pretty well fixed and well-recognized as prudent and also as charitable. The eremitical life differs both in kind and in the nature of its formation and degree of oversight and direct supervision allowed. As a result the time frames for discernment and formation mainly do and must also differ. While it is possible to read even very current works by canonists today who affirm that one can simply borrow the canonical regulations for life-in-community and apply them without customization to eremitical life, such an application is naïve at best and dangerously destructive at worst. Eremitical life is neither discerned nor formed in the same way cenobitical life is; to expect it to conform to the same temporal parameters is wrong-headed.

I believe this is especially true when one is trying to discern and evaluate the vocation, formation, and even readiness for profession of the chronically ill or disabled hermit precisely because one must take the time to distinguish between isolation and solitude, and also, even within this distinction, one must understand the various kinds of isolation and solitude which may be (and are likely) involved. Chronic illness always isolates in varying ways and to varying degrees. Some of these are pathological; some are not. Some may predispose to eremitical solitude, some to temporary or transitional solitude; some speak clearly of personal disintegration or decompensation while for some this very decompensation occurs as part of a radical conversion process involving self-emptying and if given appropriate spiritual direction and support in accepting the grace of God, eventual healing and reintegration of the person's core identity. But this type of process is messy and time-consuming. It does not fit in the neat canonical boxes associated with socialization and formation in community of someone in fine physical health.

Moreover, the process being discerned is about hidden dynamics because it occurs in the silence of solitude. One must look specifically for the grace of God at work in this person's life and that means looking for the paradoxical presence of grace --- wholeness revealed in brokenness, power in weakness, strength in helplessness, and independence in dependence, for instance. One must learn to look for the Life of God within the imperfect life of one whom those in non-eremitical religious life (life in community) might well reject as "unsuitable". This takes time, courage, imagination, and a well-tempered faith. The Catechism of the Catholic Church describes the hiddenness of the eremitical life. The authors did not merely mean it all happens alone (with God) behind closed doors --- though of course it mainly does this; they knew that the real fruit and processes of eremitical life (and thus, of eremitical formation and discernment) have to do with the processes of the human heart being redeemed and transfigured (made whole and holy) by the invisible God within the context of silence and personal solitude in an intimate relationship which is mainly invisible and ineffable.

Imagine this!! Read the sentence ending in "ineffable" again! THIS IS what hermits witness to. THIS is the Gospel they proclaim with their lives and very much less so with any limited ministry they may also do. Assessing this is the key to discerning an eremitical life so it is no wonder some dioceses eschew accepting anyone for a process of mutual discernment leading to admission to canonical commitment. On the other hand maybe this is better than what often happens: it is scandalous, I think, that dioceses demand hermits live this kind of hiddenness while also expecting to discern or form such vocations on the basis of criteria culled from canon law geared to the dynamics of active religious lives which are mainly not particularly hidden.

In the Letter to the Hebrews we read that Abraham trusted the promises, no matter how unbelievable they seemed, because the One who made them was trustworthy. Vicars for Religious must be open to trusting that God is at work in the individuals that come to them and allow him the time to do the kinds of miracles only he can do. After all, God is the trustworthy one here, not the time frames culled from centuries of dealing with cenobitical religious formation. Of course this also leads directly to your questions about reasonable time frames and the drawing out of processes of discernment and formation. If the usual parameters (6-12 months candidacy, 1 year pastoral novitiate and 1 year canonical novitiate, followed by temporary profession for no more than 6 years and then perpetual profession and consecration) don't work well for hermits (and especially those who are chronically ill), then what time frames are reasonable and how does one proceed in truly discerning what is happening with the hermit's formation or growth? Is canon 603 itself helpful here or, if other canonical requirements are not helpful, are we left with nothing at all to go on?

While canon 603 does not specify time frames for discernment and formation leading to profession and consecration in the ways Canon Law does for cenobitical vocations, I believe canon 603 includes the key to both quality and flexibility here in its reference to a Rule of Life the hermit will write herself. It takes time and genuine formation in the eremitical life to be able to write a liveable Rule which is authentically eremitical and faithful to one's experience of God in the silence of solitude. This is because such a Rule involves not just a statement of ways one will live the central elements of canon 603, but also relies on and articulates the hermit's own sense of the vision and spirit which drives such a life in the 21st century. 

Thus, it is also possible to use the Rule a hermit writes (and conversations about the process of writing such a Rule) as a key to discerning the quality of the vocation standing before the diocese with a petition for profession and consecration. For this reason, after a hermit has lived eremitical solitude for several years I have proposed that only then do dioceses ask the hermit to begin constructing a liveable and normative Rule. They will then allow for the project to take several years (this is much more likely than not)! Subsequently, diocesan staff may meet with the hermit and discuss the project a couple of times a year or so to help with matters of both discernment and formation, using the Rule in its various incarnations (expect several!!) to help determine readiness for profession and consecration. Remember, the task is to write a liveable Rule rooted in the hermit's experience of the solitary eremitical life, not simply to churn out a list of do’s and don’ts

In this way, the discernment and formation process can be individually tailored and freed from the arbitrary constraints of cenobitical canonical time frames. I believe this would be particularly workable for solitary hermits, but especially for those with disabilities and chronic illnesses. Time frames would not be extended arbitrarily nor shortened in a similar way. (The period and process of discernment would need to show signs of ongoing growth in eremitical life and increasing readiness for a real and lifegiving commitment; so long as it does this the process allows for prudent patience.) Using the developing capacity to write a personal Rule in this way would mean that personnel discerning the vocation would have something objective to consider; moreover, conversations with candidates could be much more fruitful and free of bias (or the perception of bias). Meanwhile careful and judicious consideration of the work of spiritual directors, delegates, and others (including physicians and psychological screening -- if seen as helpful because of real concerns) could be used to inform a diocese's decisions in conjunction with the diocese's conversations with the hermit herself.

Gaudete Sunday and the Sacrament of Anointing

 Each year on this Sunday we celebrate the Anointing of the Sick; we did so this morning. I am always really moved by it as we each come forward and stand in a semi-circle in front of the whole assembly while facing the altar as Father John moves to each of us, lays on hands, prays, and then comes to each of us again anointing us on forehead and hands. I ordinarily come forward because I struggle with chronic illness and because I want to remain open to God bringing good out of whatever suffering is involved --- including whatever deep healing (he) will accomplish within me.

This year I felt keenly my need for healing, but too, my compassion for all those who stood in front of our brothers and sisters in Christ and implicitly proclaimed our vulnerability and need for one another and the prayers of each and all. We each have our own story of personal suffering, brokenness, illness, and neediness --- but we also have our significant stories of the Christ who comforts and strengthens us in every difficulty. I don't know the details of all of these stories -- though yes, I know a few, but I know how moving it is to witness to the Gospel in weakness and brokenness and how inspiring to stand silently with others who, though tacit about what the details of their vulnerability involve,  say clearly with their presence that they trust in God, trust in the Sacraments, trust in the support of the ecclesia and cannot, in fact must not, do otherwise.

We each come to this Sacrament looking for God to work miracles -- "acts of power" as the NT puts it ---  whether or not there is physical healing. We come as supplicants looking for God to transform our weakness into a complex canvas at once flawed and sacred, a Divine work of art, Magnificats proclaiming the One who is sovereign and victorious over the powers of sin and death even as (he) embraces and transforms them with his love and presence. It is especially significant that we do this on the day proclaiming the greatness of JnBap who is the greatest of "those born of women" and who prepared the way of the Lord who, [[Strengthen(s) the hands that are feeble, (and) make(s) firm the knees that are weak, say(s) to those whose hearts are frightened: Be strong, fear not! Here is your God, he comes with vindication; with divine recompense he comes to save you. Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared; then will the lame leap like a stag, then the tongue of the mute will sing.]] (Isaiah, today's first reading.)

Through the years I have written of a vocation to chronic illness -- a vocation to be ill within the Church, to bear our illness in Christ and (thanks to James Empereur, sj) of the sacrament of anointing as a prophetic sacrament of commissioning and call. This is what we celebrated today at St P's: brothers and sisters in Christ who came forth together in their vulnerability and need in order to be strengthened in our witness to Christ and help inspire the faith and prayer of the entire assembly. Physical healing is not necessary for the effectiveness of this sacrament (though we certainly open ourselves to it) but the increasing ability to bear our illness in Christ --- the ability to trust in and witness to the God whose power is perfected in weakness and who puts an end to fear and deep insecurity is the real vocation here. As Isaiah reminds us, such trust can lead to strong hands capable of touching others with compassion and gentleness; likewise it can result in "knees" that support us as we try to stand tall in our own truth and the ability to dance and sing our lives with a joy which comes when we truly know and trust in the love of God.

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 denying Chronic Illness in Order to be Admitted to Profession under Canon 603

[[Dear Sister, have you heard of dioceses that refuse to profess hermits because they have a chronic illness? I am concerned my diocese will not agree to profess me because I am chronically ill so I am thinking about not telling them about this until after profession.. What do you think of this idea?]]

Thank you for writing. I have to say frankly that I think this specific idea is really terrible. While I understand the fear you are experiencing, it makes no sense to approach your diocese with a petition to admit you to eremitical profession while considering withholding important (in this case critical) personal information from them. Canonically I believe your diocese could determine your profession to be invalid in such circumstances but I would need to check that out. (Addendum: see the following passage regarding malice in the making of a vow, The emboldened portion does indicate that a lie in a matter of external forum of the kind you are envisioning would lead to the invalidity of vows: [[Malice (dolus) in the context of this canon is the deliberate act of lying or of concealing the truth in order to get another person to make a vow which he or she would not do if the truth were known, or in order for oneself to get permission to make a vow, which would not be permitted if the truth were known. For example, a novice conceals from her superiors some external forum fact that, if known, would result in her not being admitted to profession of vows. Such malice invalidates the profession of vows (cf. C. 656, 4)]] I think a diocese could decide that they would have professed you in any case and not act on c 656.4, but the possibility of invalidating your vows clearly exists.

Canonical matters aside please consider the wisdom and import of approaching public profession while withholding such a significant piece of personal information. Your chronic illness is not something peripheral to your life, whether as a hermit or not, but central to it and to the witness you are called to give to the Gospel. Is there a dimension of your life which is not touched by your illness and its requirements?  In light of this, how will you write a Rule of life that binds you in law if you do not include the fact of chronic illness? How will you be bound in obedience to legitimate superiors who do not know this important truth about you? (In this matter consider how they would exercise a ministry of authority --- which is a ministry of love --- if they know you so incompletely or partially and in such a significant matter.) Whom do you expect to be for others who suffer from chronic illness or various forms of isolation? (I know you said you would let folks know the truth after profession, but consider if this is really the model of dealing with chronic illness you want to set for others in their own lives?) What is your relationship with the God of truth whose power is made perfect in weakness?

Finally, please consider that many diocesan hermits have chronic illnesses while others are aging and becoming more or less disabled in this way. We are finding our way in this as in many things. In my experience dioceses do not usually refuse to profess a person simply because of a chronic illness if that person can live the central elements and spirit of eremitical life at the same time. Some illnesses will not allow this (nor will some vocations), but since a major part of eremitical solitude is its distinction from isolation, most of us find that chronic illness is something eremitical life can redeem in ways which allow illness to be a significant witness to the individual's true value even (and maybe especially) when eremitical life does not occasion healing from the illness itself. If one cannot risk being truthful in this matter it may suggest that one is simply not suited to the risk of eremitical life itself or the radical honesty it demands --- at least not at this point in time. On the other hand, if one's diocese is talking about making a blanket rejection of a chronically ill hermit, perhaps it is time for candidates to educate them, at least generally, re the place of chronically ill hermits in c 603 vocations.

To achieve such education, however, means living the truth in a transparent way, and doing so long and faithfully enough that you can articulate it clearly for your diocese. Eremitical life itself is edifying; the eremitical life of one who is chronically ill or disabled is meant to be doubly so. The basic question your own query raises and which one must answer convincingly will always be, which does one desire more, to live eremitical life and serve the merciful God of truth in this way or to be professed canonically? Canonical profession can and does serve our living out of eremitical life, especially as an ecclesial vocation, but it is a means to the journey of radical truthfulness, authentic selfhood and holiness; it is not the end in itself.

Touching the Wounds of Christ: Proclaiming a Power Perfected in Weakness (Reprise)

(Please note that while I am writing about eremitical and consecrated life in this article because of the questions posed, most of what I am writing here is completely applicable to lives transformed by and living the consecration of baptism. Similarly, while I am referring explicitly to chronic illness the same dynamics can apply to many aspects of our lives whether or not one is chronically ill.)

[[Dear Sister, if a person is chronically ill then isn't their illness a sign that "the world" of sin and death are still operating in [i.e., dominating] their lives?  . . . I have always thought that to become a religious one needed to be in good health. Has that also changed with canon 603? I don't mean that someone has to be perfect to become a nun or hermit but shouldn't they at least be in good health? Wouldn't that say more about the "heavenliness" of their vocation than illness? ]] (Combination of queries posed in several emails)

As I read these various questions one image kept recurring to me, namely, that of Thomas reaching out to touch the wounds of the risen Christ. I also kept thinking of a line from a homily my pastor (John Kasper, OSFS) gave about 7 years ago which focused on Carravagio's painting of this image; the line was,  "There's Another World in There!" It was taken in part from the artist and writer Jan Richardson's reflections on this painting and on the nature of the Incarnation. Richardson wrote:

[[The gospel writers want to make sure we know that the risen Christ was no ghost, no ethereal spirit. He was flesh and blood. He ate. He still, as Thomas discovered, wore the wounds of crucifixion. That Christ’s flesh remained broken, even in his resurrection, serves as a powerful reminder that his intimate familiarity and solidarity with us, with our human condition, did not end with his death. . . Perhaps that’s what is so striking about Caravaggio’s painting: it stuns us with the awareness of how deeply Christ was, and is, joined with us. The wounds of the risen Christ are not a prison: they are a passage. Thomas’ hand in Christ’s side is not some bizarre, morbid probe: it is a  union, and a reminder that in taking flesh, Christ wed himself to us.]] Living into the Resurrection

Into the Wound, Jan L Richardson

My response then must really begin with a series of questions to you. Are the Risen Christ's wounds a sign that sin and death are still "operating in" him or are they a sign that God has been victorious over these --- and victorious not via an act of force but through one of radical vulnerability, compassion, and solidarity? Are his wounds really a passage to "another world" or are they signs of his bondage to and defeat by the one which contends with him and the Love he represents? Do you believe that our world is at least potentially sacramental or that heaven (eternal life in the sovereign love of God) and this world interpenetrate one another as a result of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection or are they entirely separate from and opposed to one another? Even as I ask these questions I am aware that they may be answered in more than one way. In our own lives too, we may find that the wounds and scars of illness and brokenness witness more to the world of sin and death than they do to that of redemption and eternal life. They may represent a prison more than they represent a passage to another world.

Or not.

When I write about discerning an eremitical vocation and the importance of the critical transition that must be made from being a lone pious person living physical silence and solitude to essentially being a hermit living "the silence of solitude," I am speaking of a person who has moved from the prison of illness to illness as passage to another world through the redemptive grace of God. We cannot empower or accomplish such a transition ourselves. The transfiguration of our lives is the work of God. At the same time, the scars of our lives will remain precisely as an invitation to others to see the power of God at work in our weakness and in God's own kenosis (self-emptying). These scars become signs of God's powerful presence in our lives while the illness or woundedness become Sacraments of that same presence and power, vivid witnesses to the One who loves us in our brokenness and yet works continuously to bring life, wholeness, and meaning out of  death, brokenness, and absurdity.

To become a hermit (especially to be publicly professed as a Catholic hermit) someone suffering from chronic illness has to have made this transition. Their lives may involve suffering but the suffering has become a sacrament which attests less to itself  (and certainly not to an obsession with pain) but to the God who is a Creator-redeemer God. What you tend to see as an obstacle to living a meaningful profoundly prophetic religious or eremitical life seems to me to be a symbol of the heart of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It also seems to me to remind us of the nature of "heavenliness" in light of the Ascension. Remember that one side of the salvation event we call the Christ is God's descent so that our world may be redeemed and entirely transformed into a new creation. But the other side of this Event is the Ascension where God takes scarred humanity and even death itself up into his own life --- thus changing the very nature of heaven (the sovereign life of God shared with others) in the process.

Far from being an inadequate witness to "heavenliness" our wounds can be the most perfect witness to God's sovereign life shared with us. Our God has embraced the wounds and scars of the world as his very own and not been demeaned, much less destroyed in the process. Conversely, for Christians, the marks of the crucifixion, as well therefore as our own illnesses, weaknesses and various forms of brokenness, are (or are meant to become) the quintessential symbols of a heaven which embraces our own lives and world to make them new. When this transformation occurs in the life of a chronically ill individual seeking to live eremitical life it is the difference between a life of one imprisoned in physical isolation, silence, and solitude, to that of one which breathes and sings "the silence of solitude." It is this song, this prayer, this magnificat that Canon 603 describes so well and consecrated life in all its forms itself represents.

Bowl patched with Gold

We Christians do not hide our woundedness then. We are not ashamed at the way life has marked and marred, bent and broken, spindled and mutilated us. But neither are woundedness or brokenness themselves the things we witness to. Instead it is the Sacrament God has made of our lives, the Love that does justice and makes whole that is the source of our beauty and our boasting. Jan Richardson also reminds us of this truth when she recalls Sue Bender's observations on seeing a mended Japanese bowl. [[“The image of that bowl,” she writes, “made a lasting impression. Instead of trying to hide the flaws, the cracks were emphasized — filled with silver. The bowl was even more precious after it had been mended.”]]  So too with our own lives: as Paul also said, "But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing power will be of God and not from ourselves."  (2 Cor 4:7) It is the mended cracks, the wounds which were once prisons, the shards of a broken life now reconstituted entirely by the grace of God which reveal the very presence of heaven to those we meet.

Followup Questions on the notion of Bringing "One's Entire Availability"

[[Sister Laurel, Can it be that simple - that God just wants me to live "on friendly terms" with him? (It brings tears to my eyes to just write this sentence.) Is that what the "abyss" is all about? Just to live with him even when I don't feel him present and only know by faith he has promised to be there - "on friendly terms?" To  do all the mundane things "with him" - not even "for him" - because I can't bring anything worth having except my being entirely available to him? So where, then, does the "doing" fit in -- the seeking/seeing him in others, serving him by serving others? Since I am not a hermit, how does this translate to the active life - because I think it must. How do I "spend myself" if I bring nothing worth having to him? ]]

Thanks for your questions and the chance to reflect on all this further. My own thought is coming together in new ways in all of this so I offer this response with that in mind. Here is a place where words are really critical. First, yes, it is that simple but no one ever said simple meant easy or without substantial cost. Neither does simple mean that we get there all at once. This is simple like God is simple, like union with God is simple, like faith is simple. In other words it speaks as much of a goal we will spend our whole lives attaining as it does the simplicity of our immediate actions. That quotation (from The Hermitage Within regarding bringing one's entire availability and living on friendly terms with God) is something I read first in 1984 some months after first reading canon 603. I posted it in the sidebar of this blog in 2007 as I prepared for solemn profession. And now I have returned to it yet again only from a new place, a deeper perspective. It represents one of those spiral experiences, the kind of thing T.S. Eliot writes about when he says: [[We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.]]

Secondly, the quotation referred to bringing " my entire availability" not just to "being entirely available". While these two realities are profoundly related and overlap, I hear the first as including the second but therefore as committing to something more as well. I think bringing one's entire availability means bringing one's whole self for God's own sake so that God might really be God in all the ways that is so. As you say, it implies being available to God, doing things with God, being open to awareness of God and God's will, but more, it says "I bring you all my gifts, all my neediness and deficits, myself and all the things that allow you to be God. I open myself to your love, your recreation, your healing, your sovereignty, your judgment; I bring myself in all the ways which might allow you to be God in my life and world." It means, I think, that I allow myself to be one whose entire purpose and meaning is in the mediation of God's presence and purposes. And this, I think, is a commitment to being entirely emptied and remade so that my whole life becomes transparent to God.

As I think more about this it seems to me "my entire availability" is something we can only offer God.  "My entire availability" seems to me to mean bringing myself to God in ways which would possibly be an imposition, unsafe (for them and for me), and pastorally unwise or simply unloving in the case of others. "Being entirely available," on the other hand, sounds to me like bringing myself as I am and allowing God to share in my activities and life as it is but, for instance, not necessarily giving God my entire future and past, my entire self -- body and soul, physically, mentally and spiritually. It also sounds like the focus is on gifts, but not on emptiness and need. Our world is certainly familiar with the idea of bringing one's gifts, but to bring one's "weakness," "shame", and inabilities is rarely recognized as something we are called to sign up for at church (or wherever) to offer to others. Despite the importance of vulnerability in pastoral ministry bringing one's "weakness," "shame", deficits, and inabilities is rarely recognized as something we must offer to God if we are to bring others the Gospel as something whose truth we know intimately.

Thus, I think, that "entire availability" means that I also bring my deficits and deficiencies and that I do so trusting that God can make even these bits of emptiness something infinitely valuable and even fruitful to others. To be available to God and to bring one's entire availability may indeed be the same thing but they sound different to me --- overlapping, yes, but different. Whether I am correct or not in this, the formulation in the passage quoted from The Hermitage Within pushes me to envision something much more total and dynamic than the other formulation. Other things push me to this as well, not least Paul and Mark's theologies of the cross, Jesus' kenosis even unto godless death and descent into hell, and the conviction I have that every hermit must be open to being called to greater reclusion.

Entire Availability for Jesus and for the Hermit:

In light of these, I think for the hermit "my entire availability" means bringing (and maybe relinquishing or actually being stripped of) precisely those discrete gifts which might be used for others, for ministry, for being fruitful in the world. Gifts are the very way we are available to others. Alternately, those ways we are available to others are our truest gifts (including --- when transfigured to mediate the love and mercy of God --- our emptiness and incapacity). This is why a person claiming to be a hermit as a way of refusing to use her gifts or simply failing to be available to others, a way of being selfish and misanthropic, is one of the greatest blasphemies I can think of. But to be stripped of gifts or talents in solitude so that God's redemption is all we "have" is an entirely different thing indeed --- and one which absolutely requires careful and relatively lengthy mutual discernment. In any case, the eremitical life means bringing to God every gift, every potentiality and deficiency one has so that God may do whatever God wishes with them. Eremitical solitude is not about time away so one becomes a better minister (though that may also happen), nor greater degrees of prayer so one's service of others is better grounded (though it will surely do that as well). For those called to these eremitical solitude and commitment to eremitical hiddenness reflect an act of blind trust that affirms whatever God does with one --- even if every individual gift is left unused --- will be ultimately significant in the coming of the Kingdom because in this way God is allowed to be God exhaustively in these lives.

When we think of Jesus we see a man whose tremendous potential and capacity for ministry, teaching, preaching, simple availability and community, was stripped away. In part this happened through the circumstances of his birth because he was shamed in this and was seen as less capable of honorable contributions or faithfulness. In part it was because he was a carpenter's son, someone who worked with his hands and was therefore thought of as less intellectually capable. In part it was because he was more and more isolated from his own People and Religion and assumed a peripatetic life with no real roots or sources of honor --- except of course from the One he called Abba. And in part it was because even his miracles and preaching were still insufficient to achieve the transformation of the world, the reconciliation of all things with God so that God might one day truly be all in all. Gradually (or not so gradually once his public ministry began) Jesus was stripped of every individual gift or talent until, nailed to a cross and too physically weak and incapable of anything else, when he was a failure as his world variously measured success, the ONLY thing he could "do" or be was open to whatever God would do to redeem the situation. THIS abject emptiness, which was the measure of his entire availability to God and also to us(!), was the place and way he became truly and fully transparent to his Abba. It also made the effectiveness of his ministry and mission global or even cosmic in scope.

This, it seems to me is really the model of the hermit's life. I believe it is what is called for when The Hermitage Within speaks of the hermit's "entire availability."  One traditionalist theology of the cross suggests that Jesus raised himself  from godless death to show he was God. The priest I heard arguing this actually claimed there was no other reason for the resurrection! But Paul's and Mark's theologies of the cross say something very different; namely, when all the props are kicked out, when we have nothing left but abject emptiness, when life strips us of every strength and talent and potential, God can and will use this very emptiness as the source of the redemption of all of reality --- if only we give that too to God. Hermits, but especially recluses, are called by God to embrace a similar commitment to kenosis and faith in God. We witness to the power of God at work when perhaps all we can bring is emptiness and "non-accomplishment".

Questions on Active Ministry:

Nothing in this means the non-hermit is not called to use her gifts as best she can. Of course she is called to minister with God, through God, and in God. Her availability to others is meant to be an availability to God and all that is precious to God. We all must spend ourselves in all the ways God calls us to. But old age, illness and other circumstances make some forms of this impossible. When that is true we are called to a greater and different kind of self-emptying, a different kind of availability. We are called to allow God to make of us whatever he wills to do in our incapacity. We are called to witness to the profoundest truth of the Gospel, namely, that not only does our God bring more abundant life out of life and move us from faith to faith but he will bring life out of death, meaning out of absurdity and senselessness, and hope out of the desperate and hopeless situations we each know.

All we can bring to these situations is our entire availability whether measured in talents or incapacity. For Christians our human emptiness is really the greatest form of potential precisely because our God is not only the one who creates out of chaos, but out of nothing at all. Our gifts are wonderful and are to be esteemed and used to serve God and his creation, but what is also true is that our emptiness can actually give God greater scope to be God --- if only we make a gift of it to God for God's own sake. (Remember that whenever we act so that God might be God, which is what I mean by "for God's own sake," there is no limit to who ultimately benefits.) The chronically ill and disabled have an opportunity to witness to this foundational truth with the gift of their lives to God. Hermits, who freely choose the hiddenness of the silence of solitude, I think, witness even more radically to this truth by accepting being freely stripped of every gift --- something they do especially on behalf of all those who are touched by weakness, incapacity, and emptiness --- whenever and for whatever reason these occur.

The Abyss:

You and I have spoken about the "leap into the abyss" in the past and you ask about it specifically so let me add this. For those not part of that conversation let me remind you that I noted that while leaping into the abyss is a fearful thing (i.e., while, for instance, it is an awesome, frightening, exhilarating thing), we don't have to hope God will eventually come to find us there; God is already there. God is the very One who maintains and sustains us in our emptiness and transforms that emptiness into fullness. That is the lesson of Jesus' death, descent, resurrection and ascension. There is no absolutely godless place as a result of Jesus' own exhaustive obedience (openness and responsiveness) to God.

Yes, I believe the emptiness I have spoken of through this and earlier posts is precisely the abyss which Merton and others speak of. Kenosis is the way we make the leap. The notion of "entire availability" involves a leap (a commitment to self-emptying and stripping) into the depths of that abyss we know as both void (even a relatively godless void) and divine pleroma. (In Jesus' case his consent to enter the abyss of sinful death was consent to enter an absolutely godless void which would be transformed into the fullness of life in and of God). It is first of all the abyss of our own hearts and then (eventually) the abyss of death itself. We ordinarily prepare for the abyss of death to the degree we commit to entering the abyss of our own hearts. Whether we experience mainly profound darkness or the glorious light of Tabor, through our own self-emptying in life and in death we leap securely into God's hands and take up our abode in God's own heart.

Is a Horarium Necessary?

[[Dear Sister, is it possible to live an eremitical life without a horarium? My life is complicated because of chronic illness and it is hard for me to commit to an hourly schedule. Can't I just live my day as the Spirit moves me to do?]]

Hi there and thanks for the question. As someone who deals with chronic illness myself I have to say it is not possible to live an eremitical life without a horarium. I have written about this before here. See the following:  Formation, Flexibility, and Making Room for the Holy Spirit. I don't want to repeat what I said there. Here I want to speak to the issue of chronic illness and a horarium.

What seems crucial is first of all that you not think of your horarium so much as an hour by hour schedule as something that divides your days into major chunks, and maybe the same with your week. At least liturgically your week should have a certain shape as much as possible, but a horarium can allow a week to hold all the elements your life needs week by week if you cannot manage an hourly or daily horarium. I don't know what illness you are dealing with but I am presuming you are ordinarily well enough to "pray assiduously" (in the language of canon 603) and keep the other elements of the canon as defining characteristics of your own life.  If that is the case generally, then there should be some regular scheduling of these things which realistically reflects your usual state of being and the commitment to the life which you have made. You are called to live your own life in Christ, not someone else's!

The second thing which is crucial is that you step back into your horarium as soon as you are truly able. I know in my own life that there are times when illness means spending time in bed or otherwise resting and sometimes I may mistakenly not step back into things as soon as I am really able. It is sometimes hard to discern the distinction between what is premature (and may contribute to relapse or injury) and what is timely in returning to a normal routine; it is also sometimes hard to not let the pattern of rest be extended unnecessarily -- either because we don't feel great (though we are still better), we don't have a job outside the hermitage to go to or children to take care of, or because once upon a time more serious illness caused us to necessarily embrace longer periods of inactivity, etc. We may thus tend to readopt that older pattern even though we don't truly need to do that today. A horarium serves to remind us what the shape of our days are NOW when we are feeling more or less our best (or at least are not acutely ill). Even when we are acutely ill, the horarium reminds us of our weakness and calls us to allow God to simply be with us so that all time is sanctified. It is important to allow the horarium to function in this way as well! It is a tool which is meant to serve us; we need to allow it to do that.

Remember especially that your horarium is first of all a schedule which respects your own needs for rest, work, prayer, study, liturgy, and recreation as these exist today. No one creates this horarium for us, nor do we use a horarium suited to a different time in our lives or a different degree of health or illness. For most of us horaria are not carved in stone except to the extent they really serve us in living our vocation every day. They mark the things which are ordinarily essential in each of our days and weeks.

When illness intervenes everything changes of course. Our need for rest increases and at the same time this means our ways of praying change as well --- not that we cease praying. You, for instance, may not be able to work, study, or attend liturgy, but perhaps you can read a few minutes here and there, listen to Taize or other tapes or CD's you don't always have time for, do a bit of journaling, read a book you simply enjoy (which invites you to really be present in that way), sit up for a while and work on a jigsaw puzzle (which can allow you to do a lot of gentle "inner work" as you remember, daydream, appreciate, etc.), consider a line or two of a psalm every few minutes, and simply allow God to companion you in a conscious way during all of these.

As you begin to feel better you can either step back into the horarium as it is set out or you can step back into the activity which most calls to you at that point in time. If you continue to feel better then pick up the horarium wherever you are in your day. For instance, if you are usually up at 4:00am but have slept in until 8:00 am today because of illness, then ---  after you have washed, had breakfast, etc.--- begin your day wherever the horarium indicates --- or if you wish to begin with Lauds or are yearning for quiet prayer do that. If this works out and you continue to feel well, then move on to whatever the schedule calls for. If after or during this you instead find yourself exhausted or feeling truly sick again, rest until you are feeling better and then repeat this step as soon as you can. Whatever you do use the horarium as a way to measure how well you actually feel and more, how truly able you are to proceed normally at this point. Again, in this way too the horarium can function as a tool that serves in more ways than merely dictating what one "should" be doing.

Personally I think a horarium is critical if other things in our lives militate against order and regularity. When I am not feeling well I can always ask myself if I am feeling well enough to pray a psalm for instance or read a chapter of theology rather than a chapter of an Anne Perry (et al) book. I can always ask myself if I can do some piece of the day listed on the horarium at this point or if I simply cannot. At all times the horarium reminds me of those things which ordinarily allow me to be the person God calls me to be. In other words the horarium reminds me of the pieces of my life with God illness has demanded I set aside or modify just as it assists me to move back into my normal routine and let go of illness and the rhythms it sets up (or modifies and destroys) in my life. It is always more a companion and resource for discernment than it is a rigid or uncaring taskmaster. We need its challenge and support though because without it, we really might not accomplish as much as we can in spite of illness's deleterious effects in our lives.

I hope I have been clear that just as a horarium is not a rigid taskmaster --- especially for someone with chronic illness, neither is it something that can simply be cast aside entirely except for brief periods (like periods where  one is acutely ill, goes on a home visit, or takes a desert day apart for instance). I don't believe in living each day as the Spirit moves me if that also entails no schedule whatsoever.  A friend and I were talking about this yesterday and she noted that that was the surest way to get nothing done. The Spirit will certainly move us, but the horarium is actually one of the ways this will happen, especially over a period of a day or week or month. Assuming one's horarium is carefully discerned and the fruit of obedient living over a period of time, the prompting of one's horarium is as much the voice of the Holy Spirit as any other instance of this reality. Eremitical life is a supremely free one, but as I have written again and again, it is not a libertine or individualistic way.

Neither should we tempt the Lord by adopting an attitude that "He will tell me what I should be doing from moment to moment so I don't need a horarium"  God instructs our hearts to attend to what makes us whole. A horarium is the way we build those things into each day or week; it indicates the shape of our lives as well as the general way we have heard the voice of God as it has spoken to us over a long period of time and formation. It indicates the concrete temporal shape of that voice and of our overall response to it as this is generally embodied in our lives today -- including in our weakness and incapacity. Like other things I have written about recently it is there to serve love, both God's love for us and ours for God; it is a servant of Life rather than a rigid or uncompassionate master. While we cannot cast our horarium aside altogether in times of illness or retreat, for instance, (we need its guidance, encouragement, and challenge), we should always bear in mind the Sabbath (i.e., law, Rule, horarium) is made for the person, not the other way around.

"It is all of a piece --- ecstasy and epilepsy"

Yesterday's reading from Mark is always challenging for me. It is the story of the Father with the epileptic Son. Because of my own seizure disorder I have struggled my entire adult life with the situation described and the questions raised in Mark 9:14-29. I have struggled with injuries and memories of injuries or the sense of ever-present danger and threat Mark describes so well. For many years every day and even every hour was marked by terror because of this and I yearned to be able to embody Jesus' admonition to, "Be not afraid." I have reflected long and hard on the accusation of the age's faithlessness. Especially though I have struggled personally with the last exchange between the disciples and Jesus: [["Why could we not drive the spirit out?" He said to them, "This kind can only come out through prayer."]]

My own struggle to understand and accept my chronic illness and the things it has made both impossible and --- more importantly! --- possible in my life eventually found its summary and resolution in the words of Paul: "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 12:9) It underscored the importance of paradox in Christian life and especially the relationship of human poverty to Divine grace. So central was all of this to me that, as I have already noted here at other points, I used Paul's summary of the heart of an incarnational faith lived in and with Christ as the motto engraved on my perpetual (eremitical) profession ring.  I used the similar affirmation we find in the Gospel of John where Jesus responds to news of Lazareth's illness as a key text inspiring my life and therefore as a piece of the Scriptural underpinnings of my Rule, [[When Jesus heard that, he said, This sickness is not to death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby.]] But every once in a while someone captures this same dynamic and affirmation in words I have not heard before. Sometimes they do it in a way which speaks directly and powerfully to me and my own experience.

Yesterday at the end of Mass, my pastor read a brief passage from the book Unexpected News, Reading the Bible with Third World Eyes by Robert McAfee Brown. The passage was titled (not by Brown; it was part of a small anthology of reflections), "Down from the Mountaintop": [[ As soon as the 'religious experience' of the  transfiguration was over, Jesus goes down from the mountain to respond to human need, the healing of an epileptic boy. When the boy's distraught Father asks for help, Jesus does not respond, "Look, I 've just had a marvelous experience and I don't want to lose the glow." No, things are immediately earthy, human, even ugly --- for a person in an epileptic seizure is not a pretty sight. It is all of a piece --- ecstasy and epilepsy. This is what messiahship is all about: being in the midst of the poor, the sick, the helpless, those with frothing mouths. Messiahship --- just like Christian living --- is not just "mountaintop experiences" or "acts of concern for human welfare":  it is a necessary combination of the two.]]


 I am grateful to have been present for the reading of this brief reflection yesterday. It was a very powerful moment for me: affirming, shaking, a little tearful, challenging,  and consoling all at once.  Pentecost continues bestowing its unsettling and sustaining gifts of wind and fire. In the power of the Spirit and from the perspective of the Kingdom --- it is all of a piece:  Mountaintop experiences and years in the desert; a power made perfect in weakness; a  bit of human brokenness and poverty made a gift to others by the whole-making grace of God; mute isolation  transfigured into the rich communion and communicative silence of solitude; a life redeemed and enriched by love. It is all of a piece ---  epilepsy and ecstasy. I am grateful to have learned that. In fact, I am grateful to have needed and been called to learn that!

If secularity is good for CV's, perhaps Diocesan Hermits Should Live Secular Lives

Dear Sister, one CV pointed out the following; [[I personally think Diocesan hermits who are not confined to Solitary life due to Illness , would be a gift to the Church and world by considering how to live the Silence of Solitude in the deserts of the world , by striving to be the only Christian Presence in atheistic or post-christian environments. IN FACT THE CHURCH AND THE DESERTS OF THE WORLD 'NEED' THE PRESENCE OF CHRISTIAN SOLITARIES AND DIOCESAN HERMITS. If CV who are an Image of the Entire Church who is the bride of Christ , ought to wholeheartedly embrace their secularity in the spirit of Vatican Council II , I'm sure that religious and hermits are also called to embrace a different form of separation from the world of power , economics etc. by living really among the poor of the world , incarnating themselves among the powerless and oppressed of the world.]] I am sure her point was that just serving others in the secular world does not mean CV's are secular themselves but I thought the post a bit snarky. Will you respond to it?

Thanks for emailing this to me. I don't know if the intention was to be snarky; I thought she could have been presenting an unnuanced or non-paradoxical version of the theology of eremitical life I have already laid out here many times in reference to Merton's talk of  redeeming the "unnatural solitudes" of modern slums, for instance. However, I have already responded to it. Here is the post I put up on Phatmass.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Your post points to a perennial temptation for hermits: the desire to exchange eremitical solitude for a kind of ministry folks recognize as fruitful when they fail to see the pastoral fruitfulness or ministerial capacity of solitude itself. The desert Fathers and Mothers have several stories about this temptation. It is always hard to discern between two goods --- in this case the need to leave one's solitude and minister to atheists more directly or publicly (here meaning out in the open) -- or to do this with anyone else, really --- vs the need to maintain custody of the cell, for instance. This temptation can be even more keen if one came to eremitical solitude by way of chronic illness or has education and training the world seems badly in need of. However, because something is beneficial does not mean it is beneficial in the way God wills nor is it the only way we determine a vocation's charism. At the same time, if we are trying to determine if and in what way a vocation is a gift to Church and World, we must look at the benefits it represents pastorally. This is certainly part of the equation  --- but only part. My own sense (and the sense of the Church) is that eremitical solitude is profoundly ministerial all by itself and the need for this ministry (which is NOT usually exercised directly, person to person) is at crisis proportions in today's world.

Inner AND Outer solitude:

Unfortunately, the call to the silence of solitude (eremitical solitude) requires not just an inner solitude of the heart, but an external one as well. In any case, most diocesan hermits ARE already living their vocations in what Merton called the "unnatural solitudes" of urban settings, etc. We are present in our separation and embrace both dimensions (separation and a paradoxical presence) so that separation might be redeemed not only in our own lives but especially in those of persons isolated for any reason whatever. Our lives say that authentic solitude is not mere isolation; they witness instead to the transfiguration and redemption of isolation through participation in God's love. For a multitude of people (the chronically ill, isolated elderly, bereaved, prisoners, etc) especially need the witness hermits provide by the redemption of physical separation and its transformation into inner solitude and presence precisely in one's separation. In other words hermits ARE profoundly present and related to others but it is a paradoxical presence and relatedness achieved in separation and symbolized by prayer. THAT is the primary way hermits are called to minister in the Church.

When I wrote earlier that no matter how good making the eremitical vocation a secular one might seem, it is still contrary to the essential nature of the life and cannot be embraced without betraying the very nature of the vocation, this is what I was referring to. My own vocation speaks to everyone about the need for authentic solitude (a unique form of dialogue or communion) in a balanced life but it speaks especially vividly to those who are physically and often psychologically isolated and need to know their situations can be redeemed and made meaningful --- even if the physical separation of those lives cannot be changed. What makes my own life ministerial is its separation --- but only as a transfigured separation which witnesses not only to the truth that God alone is enough for us, but to my own profound paradoxical relatedness to everything in God. Thus my life does not minister to the world in the way many others do, but it ministers profoundly and uniquely in its "silence of solitude". It speaks to the fear of solitude which is rampant today, to contemporary isolation, to our phobia for silence and our inability to find life meaningful unless it is productive in all the ways the world demands (including a kind of ministerial activism which many cannot participate in), and especially to the human fulfillment and relatedness to all of creation each person can only find in God.

The Church Defines Eremitical Life as non-secular and CV's living in the world as secular vocations

The point you are missing is that the Church very clearly defines the eremitical vocation as non-secular (and this is true whether we are speaking of lay or consecrated hermits) because this is its very nature. Not only does canon 603 state that non-negotiable foundational elements of the life include "stricter separation from the world" and "the silence of solitude," but in the Rite of Profession this is underscored by the Bishop's questions about readiness to embrace not merely an inner solitude but an external one as well. It is underscored by the vow formula which includes a statement that one earnestly desires to accept and live the grace of solitary eremitical life and it is underscored by clothing the hermit with the cowl besides the habit as a prayer garment which sets apart. It is framed by public vows which separate from the world of power, prestige, economics, and relationships along with a Rule of life which spells out the way this intense non-secularity is lived daily.

 It is underscored by an essential "hidden(ness) (CCC) from the eyes of men" and a process of discernment and personal formation which MUST include the transition from living merely as an isolated person to being a hermit living the silence of solitude itself BEFORE one is admitted to vows of any sort. Meanwhile CV's consecrated under canon 604 are women "living in the world", that is women living secular lives. This form of consecrated life eschews all the things which set such a woman apart from others also living secular lives except consecration which radically transfigures her secularity even as it calls for it. CV's living in the world are thus called to be apostles to the world in the things of the Spirit and the things of the world. Just as I cannot alter the nature of a vocation in which God makes my separation fruitful or calls hermits to live such a fruitful separation, CV's living in the world cannot change the way God makes their secularity distinctly fruitful or calls them to allow him to do so --- at least not without betraying the very call God has mediated to them via the Church.

No Hermit is "confined to solitude due to illness"

By the way, no diocesan hermit is "confined to solitude due to illness". That puts the cart before the horse and mistakes the defining element of the life as the isolation of illness rather than the relatedness of solitude. Chronic illness may be one of the reasons some of us find ourselves isolated from and out of sync with the world around us, but actual solitude is a good deal more than this and it is freely chosen. It is solitude which defines our lives, not illness, as you at least imply in this passage. Solitude is a living reality witnessing to the love of God made fruitful in isolation and to isolation transfigured and made fruitful in the love of God and of others. We may begin to consider that we are called to a life of eremitical solitude in part because of chronic illness (as I myself did), but that is only the very first part of discerning an actual call; a call to eremitical solitude is never merely the result of one's illness any more than living a relatively pious life alone is automatically the same as "the silence of solitude" or being a hermit.

Followup Questions on Illness and Horarium Changes.

[[Dear Sister Laurel,
       Do you have to notify your Bishop when you are ill and need to change your horarium? How about his delegate? What if the change is not temporary? Do you stop being a hermit? Thank you.]]

The simple answer is no. That is especially true in the short term. I do ordinarily let my delegate know if I am not well, but that is more to inform and to reassure her that all is pretty well nonetheless. As for the changes in horarium what is more fundamental is to continue living the elements of the canon the best way I can in spite of illness. Everyone expects that and they expect me to be able to do that or to ask for assistance if I need it. The horarium, though not unimportant, is actually less important (and more flexible) than the Rule itself and the values it embodies from Canon 603.

In Cases of Serious Illness

In cases of serious illness, then yes, everyone is notified --- not so much regarding the change in horarium as in regard to the seriousness of the situation. Pastor, Bishop, delegate or director, friends, family, are all notified. If the change in the horarium needs to be long-term then no, I don't cease being a hermit. I simply have to accommodate the new circumstances as best as I am able. Again, it is the elements of  Canon 603 that have to be lived out no matter the situation. That may mean that someone comes in to assist me with chores a couple of times a week, or helps me shop, or brings over an occasional meal, for instance, but I don't cease being a hermit in such a situation. It may also mean meeting more frequently with my delegate or director for assistance in living well with the situation.

The horarium I keep at present is designed to serve me in living an eremitical life. It is not forced on me by someone else, nor did I copy it from someone. It is an expression of both my own strengths and weaknesses as well as the things that keeps my prayer life and capacity to minister to others in good shape; should these things change then the horarium also can and will change. I suppose I am saying it is not the horarium per se that makes the hermit; it is the hermit and her lived experience that makes the horarium. Thus, if an illness was to be long term that would mean changes in the  schedule and also in commitments to others (my parish, clients, etc), but I would remain a hermit nonetheless. Nothing necessarily changes in my relationship with God or the essential way in which I am made whole in the silence of solitude.

The More Important Questions of Formation Implicit in Your Question

You may not have been completely aware of this but your question bears on the posts that have been put up recently on the importance of formation and ongoing formation of the hermit. Eremitical life, like all forms of religious life, has stages and one needs to be able to negotiate these changes while living out the central values of one's life. The capacity to negotiate changes in this way is one of the things that marks the person as an authentic hermit. I remember being asked once by an aspirant for canon 603 profession about how they should deal with the difficulty of balancing hermit things vs worldly things. The essential problem was that this person had not made a significant break with her prior life, and was not a hermit in any essential way. Thus, she considered certain things (praying, lectio, etc) as hermit things and things like dishes, laundry, housecleaning, etc as worldly things. The answer to her question was that everything she did within the hermitage was to be done as a hermit. (For that matter, everything she did outside the hermitage was to be done as a hermit.)

The same principle applies here. When a hermit is ill, they will "pray" their illness and it will become a special expression of the silence of solitude --- perhaps more difficult to live without assistance and more painful than what was lived prior to this --- but it will be an eremitical reality because and to the extent the one who is ill is a hermit herself. The horarium may be more flexible, but it remains an eremitical horarium. Thus, again, the importance of a sufficient formation and ongoing formation. One must be able to embody the central elements of the Canon and especially to live the charism of the vocation without some of the external tools and protection required at another stage of the life. During illness most of us regress some and if the illness is serious that may be more true, For this reason it is important that the hermit be adequately formed so that they continue to live the mature eremitical life they are called to live in even more demanding circumstances.

Sister DK

Let me give you an example of what I mean. This Summer our parish put up a wall of faith in memory of those women in our lives who have inspired us. I put up a picture and description of a Sister I met when I was in initial formation. When I met Sister D. she had brilliant blue eyes and was bent over sideways due to scoliosis; she was also almost completely blind (and was completely blind within the year).

Once a great reader and even now always interested in the life of the community (she loved any chance to share news!), Sister still came to all community prayer and meals and spent the remainder of her day sitting in a straight chair in her room praying. To be honest, though I was tremendously impressed by her, what had happened to her terrified me then, and in some ways still does frighten me. However, she lived profoundly the silence of solitude in community and I feel her with me today. She reminds me of what it means to be a hermit at the end of one's life, and when one is ill and cannot do what one once did. Was this easy for her? No. Could she have lived this way without the ongoing formation of a faithfully lived religious life? I don't think so. My hope, of course, is that inspired by Sister D. and many others, I will live the truth of that  as well as I am called to do as a diocesan hermit. This is another piece of what perpetual vows mean.