Follow up: On Living Alone and Hermit Surveys

[[Dear Sister, thank you for answering my question on living alone and whether that makes one a hermit. How does "desert dwelling" relate to what you have said in the past about the difference between silence AND solitude and living the silence OF solitude? They are linked aren't they? I also have a different question. How would it impact your life to hear the results of a survey about "Who is the real hermit?" with answers to questions about what people think hermits are like, how they dress, eat, recreate, what they read, how they pray, what characteristics most mark them, etc? I read about two persons doing surveys. One was this type. The other seems to ask for responses from hermits themselves. Have you seen them? Why would a hermit participate in such surveys?]] (redacted)

You are most welcome regarding my answer to your question on the distinction between living alone and being a hermit. I think this particular question is really important today as Bishops and other chancery personnel try to discern whether someone in their diocese is called to be a hermit or not. One of the things I try always to stress is that at least before being admitted to temporary vows the persons they are evaluating must have made the transition from being a lone person to one who is a hermit in an essential sense and is therefore living the silence of solitude as the heart, context, and goal of their lives. Otherwise we have more or less pious folks perhaps living some degree of silence and solitude in various ways but who are not really hermits in any fundamental sense.

You are correct that this is very closely related to the distinction between simply living alone and living as a desert dweller. The common element in both distinctions is "the silence of solitude." This is one of the reasons I have tried to make it clear that the silence of solitude is the defining element of the eremitical life and its actual charism (gift quality) to the Church and rest of the world. In a sense I would be comfortable saying that "desert dweller" and "one who lives the silence OF solitude" are synonyms --- no matter where the latter happens. We can see this when we reflect on the fact that one who perhaps takes a brief trip into the desert and meets (some) silence and solitude there has not yet become a desert dweller nor one who lives (or has even truly experienced) the silence of solitude. I think it is even possible to say that a person who moves to the desert for an extended time but whose home is sealed against the desert conditions and who simply remain shut in that home themselves along with every modern convenience and distraction is not yet a "desert dweller" either.

Regarding your second question, how would such a survey affect me? In the first case, not at all. That is, it would not change how I dress, eat, live my life, style myself (Sister, etc) or behave. I am who I am and there is no need to pretend otherwise, nor to try to hide that from people. My life is an essentially hidden one, but it is also a public vocation with obligations and with a foundational requirement of transparency (not to be mistaken for infringement of privacy!!). If the concern of the first survey you mentioned is defeating stereotypes or correcting popular expectations, for instance, then letting people meet me and understand I AM a hermit is a better solution than anything I know. One does not deal effectively with stereotypes and inaccuracies with pretense. Instead one makes the truth known and thereby dispels common misconceptions. I might say that one affect of the survey could be to strengthen me in my resolve to make this vocation better known and understood. It could also give me some additional clues to what people think about hermits, but otherwise I would say it would not affect me or the living of my life at all.

In the second case which draws on the experience of hermits themselves, yes, I have seen the survey, and in fact was interviewed for a couple of hours by the author and researcher last year. He traveled here to CA and met with me here at the hermitage as well as visiting a couple of other eremitical houses in No CA. The experience was quite fine. It was good to be able to talk about this vocation with someone researching all kinds of experiences of solitude and the effect of several variables on the eremitical experience. That interview left me with questions I still ponder, or which come back to me from time to time in a way which is helpful.

It is always helpful to articulate one's experience --- if not for the person asking the questions, then certainly for oneself. Recently I did an interview for an article on eremitical life. It was interesting to read the draft version and see what presuppositions or assumptions I make in trying to explain this vocation -- especially if someone claims to have read my blog. My own unclarity or silence on several really fundamental issues were alarming because without these one is describing a parody of the diocesan eremitical life. Fortunately the author wanted accuracy and was very willing to allow me to contact him with anything I thought would be helpful. I have yet to see the finished draft, but I am hoping I was able to clarify my omissions! At least I know that I learned from doing this interview, just as I learn things whenever I write or answer questions about the eremitical life. And with regard to the second survey mentioned above, I look forward to reading the results because these involve conversations with people truly living solitude in conscious and reflective ways. These kinds of things are always helpful to me and have the potential to challenge me in the living of my vocation in ways popular expectations do not.

Thus, I do think surveys can be interesting and valuable sources of information --- especially if they are well done and accurately demonstrate what people believe to be true about hermits. Stereotypes are dangerous, particularly if they are held by people who are seeking to be hermits or those who participate in discerning eremitical vocations. The basic problem here is that hermits' lives are of tremendous value in a society which is intolerant of silence and touts individualism or narcissism rather than an individuality which is properly situated as a dimension of community. They are equally valuable for people who are trapped in situations which isolate or demean and require a way to redeem these because they suggest creative possibilities. But stereotypes --- which remain far too prevalent, do not serve in this way. Instead they tend to reinforce all of these elements: individualism, narcissism, isolation, etc. Surveys can help us be aware of and even understand such misconceptions; for chanceries or others dealing with eremitical vocations (or potential vocations) these may assist in recognizing when such things are driving an individual's desire to be a hermit or a diocese's admission to profession.

Hermits: Not Merely People who Live Alone but Desert Dwellers

Dear Sister, recently I read a hermit who claimed the word hermit meant one who lived alone. They said, [[The very word hermit is a label that means "solitary" in Old French, late Latin, and Greek. So perhaps the first hermit was simply someone who lived alone in a time when all other people lived together in family units, and a single person living by themselves would be unusual enough to have a word coined to describe the phenomena. Then others began to live like that first hermit, alone, or in whatever other ways that first hermit appeared, acted, and was for what purpose of being.]] Is this correct? Is it how the Church uses the word hermit? Thank you.

Solitariness is a part of the eremitical life, yes, but the word hermit (eremite) has its origins in the Greek word eremos, which means desert. An eremite (hermit) then is a desert dweller and there is much more involved in truly being a desert dweller than simply being alone. Consider what it means to live in the desert generally, and then in terms of the judeo-Christian heritage. It is in this way we come to understand what a hermit is from the Catholic perspective and how the eremitical life differs from simply being or living alone. After all, many people live alone; does this of itself make them hermits? I would say no.

Deserts and wildernesses are equivalent concepts or realities. They are places where human poverty and weakness are writ very large, where the horizon of human existence is seemingly infinite, and where the ability to be one's own source of life, to secure oneself whether physically, psychologically, or spiritually, simply and clearly doesn't exist. There is no room for delusions in the desert. Delusions kill. We know how fragile, finite, and threatened we are in such a place. In the face of such reality we ask the really huge questions implied by existence but often crowded from our vision by the comforts and distractions with which we live every day: Who am I? Why am I alive at all? How can I continue to live? How can my puny, insignificant existence really be of any meaning in the grand scheme of things? Is my life simply absurd? Should I hold onto life, should I fight for it or let go of it? Why or why not? And if I choose to live, then what is essential to that and how do I find it, supply it, or open myself to it?

These are some of the questions which well up in the wilderness in the absence of distraction and satiety. These are the questions the hermit lives out in one form and another every day of her life. But the hermit, especially the Christian hermit, also lives the answer to these found in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. For the Christian hermit, the wilderness/desert is also the place where the Jewish refugees from Egypt came to terms with and claimed their identity as God's own, ratified the covenant with their lives, and became Israel, the covenant partner of God. The desert is the context where the prophet John the Baptist was nurtured and called to proclaim a baptism of repentance. It is also the place where he learned clearly who he was and was empowered to proclaim the One he was not. The desert is the place where Jesus was driven by the Spirit of God's love to grapple with his newly divinely-affirmed identity as Son of God and the shape that Sonship would take in this world. Here he struggled with the temptation to misuse the gifts which were his: his power, his authority, his very identity; here he struggled with the temptation to relinquish his complete dependence upon God the Father and act autonomously. It was in the desert that in a special way Jesus claimed his own identity and embraced the values and wisdom of the Kingdom rather than the identity, values and wisdom the world affirmed and offered him.

Similarly, the desert is the place where Paul, following his Damascus experience and his initial acceptance by the primitive Christian Church spent time consolidating the changes in understanding his meeting with Christ occasioned. It was here that Paul reframed his own understanding of Law in light of the Gospel, where he worked out the meaning of Jesus' scandalous death on the cross, where he came to part of an ecclesiology which would move Christianity from being a sect of Judaism to being a universal faith. In short, in Scripture, the desert is the place where we are remade in solitary dialogue with God. It is where we do battle with the demons that dwell in our own hearts and the world around us; it is where we learn to live our own human poverty and weakness because we also live from a grace that enriches and strengthens us; it is where we learn to see our own smallness and insignificance against the infinite horizon of a God who loves us immeasurably and eternally.

More, we do these things not only for ourselves, but for what the Scriptures call the glory of God. What this means is that we do it so that God's presence and nature may be clearly revealed in our world through our lives. That is what it means in the Bible to speak of God being glorified. And of course, we do this so that others might be nourished and inspired by it; we do it so that people may find hope when there seems nothing and no one to hope in, so that people may be nourished and their thirst quenched when the landscape of their lives seems entirely barren. We do it so that the least of the least among us may discover and be affirmed in the infinite value of their lives and so even the most isolated may find that God is with them ready to transfigure isolation into solitude. Eremitical life witnesses to the essential wholeness that we are all called to in God through Christ, no matter our poverty, our weakness, or our brokenness and isolation.

The hermit's life then is not merely about living alone, but rather living alone WITH, FROM, and FOR God, and in a way which is specifically FOR others as well. That is why Canon 603 defines it in part as follows: [[Can 603 §1, Besides institutes of consecrated life, the Church recognizes the life of hermits or anchorites, in which the Church's faithful withdraw further from the world and devote their lives to the praise of God and the salvation of the world through the silence of solitude and through assiduous prayer and penance.]]

There is nothing unusual about people living alone today (nor in the past!). Many do so for unworthy or unavoidable reasons (selfishness, misanthropy, chronic illness, incarceration, bereavement, isolated old age, etc); some of these are --- or may be made --- even relatively pious. But very few have given their lives over to the redemptive dynamics and demands of desert living as epitomized by figures in our history like Elijah, John the Baptist, Jesus, Paul, the Desert Fathers and Mothers, and so forth. For this reason I have to say the person who wrote the passage you cited is inaccurate on the very nature of what a hermit is and is about. This life involves living alone --- especially when one is a diocesan or solitary hermit --- but that is part and parcel of a desert existence which is very much more as well. One must define eremitical life in these (desert) terms or miss the mark completely.

Note: some of this I spoke of relatively recently --- not least in a post for the first week of Lent : Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: Driven into the Desert by the "spirit of Sonship". Folks might want to check that out as well. It is also linked to the term "desert spirituality" below.

iPods, Technology, Retreat, and desert Experiences

[[Is it wrong for a person to have iPods and other technological conveniences? How about taking them on retreat? Is that wrong?]]



No, there is nothing wrong with iPods, laptops, or other conveniences in themselves. I hope I didn't give that impression in the posts I wrote on desert experiences! Someone else kidded me about something similar after reading them. Neither is it wrong to bring them on retreat depending on the use one makes of them of course. It is not even wrong to have these things as a hermit, and they can add greatly to the richness of one's prayer life. In the scenarios I drew a post or two ago (assuming your questions come from reading those) I somewhat overstated the differences between the two scenarios. I could have pointed out that the woman in the second scenario had an iPod with her as well, and used it at various points to assist with her prayer for instance. She has Morning and Evening Prayer settings from various artists and monasteries, a number of recordings of psalms and other liturgical or Christian music, and she uses these as appropriate to enhance prayer, but NOT to distract from the silence or from the feelings and sensations that rise up within her in solitude.

For instance, if she uses a laptop for journaling routinely, then that too is completely acceptable and CAN help enhance the desert experience, but if she is linking up to the internet, reading email, shopping on Amazon, etc, then that is another matter entirely. The same is true with a cell phone: it is good to have for emergencies, but otherwise should be left unused or even turned off. I think you understand what I am trying to describe here, right?

Retreats are meant to allow a person to have a desert experience. They are ordinarily designed to let a person sink into the silence and solitude and to listen to all that their hearts give voice to in such an environment. If anxiety and tension occur, bits of "cabin fever," boredom, and the like surface, then retreats invite a person to deal with these in prayer and in other ways one is not really used to (for instance, a quiet walk around the grounds instead of a trip to the mall, or without turning to the usual distractions), as well as to get some spiritual direction if that seems appropriate. Silence and the relative solitude of the retreat are lifegiving realities, as are the ordered days, the time away from ordinary responsibilities, etc. One should simply take advantage of all this as best one can. However, doing so may also mean sleeping a bit more than one is ordinarily able to, reading a bit of fiction here and there, listening to a bit of music, etc. One simply needs to discern what really serves one best here, that is, what allows the retreat to be what one's heart, mind, and body need at the time (and what one needs is what God wills for one, by the way)!

Personally, I would draw the line at bringing along a TV set (I am mainly kidding here since I doubt anyone actually would, but the example in my story included an RV with a TV set, so I am mentioning that -- and no movies on CD either for viewing on laptops!!) The rules for retreat are pretty general and simple. Take what you need to be comfortable and travel light. Trust that the retreat house or center generally has what you need (reading material, CD's, etc), and try to believe that God really does provide. Ordinarily that means he provides himself, and retreats are times and spaces set aside so that God may really have access to you he does not get otherwise. He is always knocking, always calling, but ordinarily there is simply too much noise, whether internal or external, for us to listen well. So the general rules of retreat "stuff" basically boil down to, "whatever helps you hearken (listen and respond)" in all the ways you are called.

Again, the scenarios I drew in the last posts were not meant to condemn modern conveniences or technology. However, there is no doubt that these things can and often do mitigate desert experiences. Hence, I will ask directees to put the iPod away more even if they are using it to listen to Christian music. I do the same thing myself and what I see and hear is vastly different when I am listening to an iPod while taking a walk, than when I am not listening to music. Desert experiences come in a variety of depths and intensities. So long as one is doing the will of God (again, taking care of our truest needs), and being sensitive to the retreat environment for others, limited use of technology can enhance the experience rather than detract and distract from it. One caveat however, since it is easy to rationalize and fool ourselves in this matter, one would do better to err on the side of caution and forego whatever one can.

At bottom desert experiences are about taking time with God to consolidate and deepen our identities as daughters and sons --- just as Jesus did, and, in becoming the People of God, just as Israel did in their extended time there. We do this by attending to God and our relationship with him in a way which makes us heirs and prophets of HIS Kingdom instead of the others at hand. If technology assists in this to some limited extent, then well and good. Otherwise, leave it at home! (The very fact that you do this is an act of renunciation and trust (because that is really what renunciation is about at bottom) which will help initiate you into a true desert experience long before you arrive on retreat.)

Followup Questions, Experience of the desert vs desert experience

[[Hi Sister. You have written that hermit life is flexible, but at the same time you seem to want to rule out part-time hermits. You also distinguish between desert experiences and experiences in the desert. I sort of get what you are saying here but I am not sure I see the importance.]]

Yes, eremitical life is flexible, that is each individual hermit needs to work out her own needs for sacraments, work, prayer, study, rest and recreation. She also needs to work out when and where community can be part of her days, what kind, and how it is she compensates for or balances this. Further, hermits who are "night persons" may use a somewhat different horarium than a hermit who is not a night person, and this is true even if one lives in a Laura of hermits. However, there remain certain elements in each hermit's life which are non-negotiable: stricter separation from the world, a LIFE of silence and solitude (and more, the silence OF solitude), assiduous prayer and penance. While she is not a recluse (usually at least), she IS a SOLITARY (something which BY DEFINITION conflicts with the notion of being married, by the way).

The significance of the distinction between an experience of the desert and a desert experience might be clearer, so let me try to make that so. Suppose a person goes into the desert with all her camping equipment, her RV, cell phone, TV, Stereo, etc. She drives into the desert and noticing the beginnings of a rise in temperature, cranks up the AC immediately; when she arrives at her destination she finds a suitable campground with amenities, and plugs in the RV. She sets out her chair and begins to sense the vastness of the place, the feeling of the air, the hugeness of the horizon, and her own insignificance in all of this. She takes a walk and for a while these impressions continue to speak to her in some way, but it is an uncomfortable experience. So, she takes out her iPod and turns it on to a favorite tune, one she listens to all the time at home. Immediately, the desert fades somewhat, the memories of home and all that is familiar resurface. She is still alone, but She has opted out of the desert experience, at least for the time being. Later, when she has eaten and the cold has set in and the fire died down, she spends a little more time looking at stars she never sees at home, but before long this too becomes a bit overwhelming and she feels somewhat uneasy, though she cannot put her finger on why that is. Besides, she thinks, there are animals preying about now, and bugs everywhere, so she goes into the RV shuts the door on her surroundings, takes a shower, climbs into a warm and comfy bed, turns on the TV set and forgets about all the desert itself. Soon she is asleep. Once again, she has opted out of the desert experience (and to some extent even out of an experience of the desert).

Note that despite the fact that she is alone and God is all around as well as within in no way is she really alone with God. While she begins to experience the awesomeness of the desert and also what calls to her there (the feelings of uneasiness or discomfort), she refuses to listen to these and distracts herself in various ways. She insulates herself from the desert experience, distances herself from her feelings and does not listen to God either within her heart or without. SO, there is physical solitude (there is no other living person around), but it is hardly an experience of solitude, much less eremitical solitude.

Imagine instead though that she arrives in a small car with cooking gear, sleeping bag, hiking gear and sturdy clothes, a journal, lantern, a book of psalms, and a New Testament. She sets up camp, sits quietly until the awesomeness of the setting touches her, and meditatively reads an account of Jesus in the desert while being sure to stay in touch with the sense of the awesomeness of her surroundings, and also her own solitude with God as she does so. Feeling a bit uneasy and restless, she puts on a jacket, gets a canteen, a compass and a bit to eat for later and sets out on a hike during which she drinks in her surroundings and continues to let the feelings that began to arise in camp intensify and speak to her. When she returns to camp, she chants a psalm, sits quietly meditating and attending to all that happens; then she pulls out her journal and begins to write. Later she prays again, lights a fire and cooks some dinner. She cleans up, watches the stars with God, considers the animals that are out there just beyond the light and warmth of the fire, prays in thanksgiving, but also with a sense of her insignificance and in supplication, slowly rereads the text on Jesus in the desert, commits herself into God's hands and climbs into her tent and sleeping bag to sleep. The next day will look very much the same except that the silence and solitude will continue to work on her heart and uncover darkness, fears, insecurities, difficult memories, and some joys she has lost touch with. She will deal with them in just the same way, and go to sleep to prepare for another day which will also look very much the same as those preceding it. There is nothing here to distract her from all of this. As her supplies dwindle she will use them even more sparingly and she will plan for a trip to a store to replenish what she needs. When she returns, she will settle in once again, and continue as before.

In the first situation I described, what I tried to show was the difference between a greatly moderated or mitigated experience of the desert (for it could have been vastly richer and more intense) and a desert experience itself . In the second the accent was on a desert experience per se, though clearly the woman involved also experienced the desert itself in a greatly less-mitigated and more intense way than in the first scenario. (Note that this experience was also mitigated, however. The woman had sufficient clothes, shelter, food, water, etc, so as not to feel completely at the mercy of the elements and God's mercy.) Despite the necessary overlap there can be a vast difference between the two, and between the types of solitude experienced. In the first scenario the woman was physically alone but hardly experiencing an inner solitude. Instead she resisted this and distracted herself from it at every turn. In the second there is both physical and inner solitude. It is a desert experience, an experience where she really does have to deal with the loneliness, the dangers, the inner demons and insecurities with nothing but herself and God. Her other life is far away; she has not brought it with her, and except for her car, her journal, books, and few clothes there is little to remind her of it. When she is reminded, it is with a keenness that affirms for her just how much she has left behind, how alone she is with God, how little resources OTHERWISE she really has at hand, and she deals with this in prayer/journaling.

The differences between the two pictures are important because one is eremitical and the other is not; one is an example of desert spirituality and in this case, solitary desert spirituality, while the other is not --- despite the fact that the person is alone. I hope this helps in drawing out the distinction and also pointing up its significance. If it does not help enough, or raises more questions please get back to me.

Part-time Hermits? Objections?

[[Dear Sister, you have objections to "part-time" hermits. You also are emphatic that the word hermit should not be used for just anyone. Can you please say more about your objections?]]


I am not sure how much more I can say about this topic, but yes, I will be happy to explain what I have written up until now. First, the use of the term hermit for just anyone: apparently there is something intriguing to people about the idea of being a hermit but what is focused on is the physical solitude, and not the underlying motivations for the life, the community or ecclesial aspect, nor that this is a contemplative life rooted in a relationship with God and all that he cherishes. What the hermit says with her life is that God alone is sufficient for us, and I mean that in two senses: 1) we are made for communion with and in him and all else (including all other relationships) is a piece of this, and 2) if we live with and for God alone, as hermits do, then that provides all we need for authentic human maturity and psychological well-being. Thus, hermits in their solitude affirm the first statement with their lives: God alone is sufficient for us, and they witness to others that the same is true for them. Of course others may also witness to this and be very far from being hermits. Every Christian, in fact, is called to make this statement with their lives, no matter their state of life. But hermits really accent the second statement, and no one else does so in the same way. It is what makes their lives eremitical: they live with and for God alone in a more literal sense (others are a significant piece of this because the hermit cherishes what/whomever is cherished by God), and that is sufficient for them and their achievement of human maturity and psychological well-being.

While the first aspect mentioned is critical to the quality of the eremitical life, it is this latter aspect of the eremitical vocation which makes it truly eremitical. The hermit vocation is the vocation of a SOLITARY, not merely an introvert or loner (indeed, the hermit may be neither of these), not someone who has a bit of physical solitude on the weekends or when the spouse and children leave the house for a few hours, but a true solitary --- one who has given her life, body and soul to God and witnesses to what life with God alone can be. Hermits are those persons who live with, in, and from God alone 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. While their love for God, and his for them will spill over and touch and include others, there should be no doubt that the primary environment of their lives is both the physical and inner solitude peculiar to the hermit. There should be no doubt that their inner and outer lives consciously reflect an accepted identity as a hermit.

So, why is all this important? Why can't a mother who prays while others are out of the house call herself a hermit, and why shouldn't she? Why can't a person who goes off to solitude on the weekends call himself a hermit, and why shouldn't he? I may have used the term "truth in advertizing" before somewhere in these blog posts, but let me use it again. The first reason these persons cannot call themselves hermits has to do with truth in advertizing. They ought not call themselves hermits because they simply are NOT living contemplative lives in solitude (each word in this phrase is important to the definition of a hermit). The second reason is related and has to do with witness. Hermits are the ones in the Church who say with their lives that it is possible to live ALONE with God for the whole of their lives and that their lives are meaningful, and in fact, that one may come to human wholeness and holiness in this way. They say that while this is a rare vocation, the person who finds herself in physical solitude and cut off from others for whatever reason: illness, bereavement, etc, has a life which is still infinitely precious and significant, and can continue to grow or develop into greater and greater fruitfulness --- an almost unimaginable fruitfulness in fact. The hermit witnesses to this truth even if the person can no longer work, has lost friends whose lives move at a different speed and rhythm, or struggles with illness which seems to dehumanize and cut off all human possibilities for growth or life, because these things are merely one side of the equation; God's grace is the other, and the hermit witnesses to what is possible when human weakness and limitations are joined by the grace of God.

The hermit's life therefore speaks in a special way to these people, people who will not have a husband (wife) and children returning at the end of the day, people who cannot spend their days cleaning FOR husband and children or planning outings, or shopping for them, people who have no one to comfort them in their pain and no breaks in the continuing solitude of their situation. The numbers of persons who live like this today are phenomenal, and someone calling themselves a hermit when they no more live a solitary life without respite is insulting and insensitive not only to authentic hermits who do live healthy and truly solitary lives, but to those living in the unnatural solitudes of illness, bereavement, old age, abandonment, etc, without choice or options otherwise.

These reasons all have to do with the witness value of the eremitical life, but we need to look at the reasons which have simply to do with the nature and quality of the hermit life itself even apart from witness value --- and again, it is a matter of truth in advertizing. By definition eremitical life is solitary life, that is, life lived in, with, for and from God ALONE. Solitude (inner and outer) does its work over time, it develops, grows, changes the human heart only over time and in physical solitude. Consistency is necessary, and consistency here means long term ongoing physical solitude. This is not necessarily the same as complete reclusion, but to call oneself a hermit when one simply spends a few hours a day alone, but waits for the return of husband and children, or when one works with others all week (even if one never speaks to them), and then goes camping or fishing alone on the weekend is analogous to someone calling herself a mother because she baby sits several days a week a few hours in the morning and afternoon. I suspect any mothers reading this would merely laugh at how ridiculous such an idea is. The same is true when hermits hear of people who build a little solitude into their lives calling themselves hermits. We both know "these people don't have a clue" --- not about real motherhood and its unceasing demands and concerns, or about giving one's life (one's whole life) for these others, nor about solitude or what it means to live as a solitary, and certainly not about what it means to be thrust back on God as the sole source of strength and meaning in one's life --- the essence of Christian eremitism.

A few days of solitude is usually welcome for most people: time to rest, read, pray, reflect, and even then the first 24-48 hours might be very difficult as silence challenges them initially. A few hours of solitude a day can also be quite welcome, and can be used fruitfully for prayer, rest, chores, etc, but in each case the solitude is temporary and one does not need to deal with the dark parts of the human heart, with the demons which inhabit our personal worlds. These things can be put off, and may not even appear because after all, the solitude is only partial. As noted above, one is not completely thrust back upon God alone to make sense of one's life, one is not faced with ALL OF ONE'S SELF AND LIFE in an environment where it MUST be faced. Distractions one has left behind (TV, work, relationships, etc) may not fill the hours of solitude themselves, but they wait in the wings moderating the solitude, either because someone is coming home at the end of the day, or because one can return to one's REAL world if one just guts this relatively brief period of solitude out. One's life makes sense APART from solitude: marriage, children, work, etc, and solitude itself may be the real distraction (even prayer can be a distraction!).

The point here is that such part-time solitude is relative, and also that it is neither as deep nor as intense nor as all-claiming and challenging as is genuine eremitical solitude. A trip to the desert is simply not truly a desert experience if one arrives in one's RV and drives away at the end of the day or week, even if one hikes out for a few hours each day. One may experience the desert to some extent in this way, but it is not truly a desert experience. (That could be had if one hiked out a few miles and then realized one had forgotten one's compass, lunch and canteen and would need to spend the night out alone without food or shelter, for instance. THEN one begins to sense the difference between an experience of the desert and a desert experience.) You see the distinction I think. Similarly then, one may experience solitude without ever coming close to solitary experience, without ever being a solitary.

But this is not true of the hermit. Her life makes sense within solitude, as a solitary because her life says that these things are an essential function of her relationship to God and living with and for God alone. Her experience of solitude is a desert experience. It is in solitude that she comes to grapple with the darknesses of her own heart, with the demons that do indeed inhabit this desert in which she lives. Yes, there can be occasional distractions (a direction client, Mass (I use the term distraction here only to the extent this is not a solitary experience), an orchestra rehearsal, an occasional dinner with friends), but unlike the person whose "solitude" is merely part time, whose children return to tell about their days, whose husband comes home to eat together and share the same bed, the hermit's solitude always beckons, at meals, at bedtime, while one does laundry or cooks for oneself alone. Every activity, and even the distractions merely point to her solitary existence. She knows she cannot justify that existence with motherhood or marriage, or even with productive work. Prayer cannot be just an important aspect of her life, much less a pleasant distraction from her usual activities. It must be THE work of her life (the work of God in her), her very lifeblood which sustains her without question. Either her life makes ultimate sense in and through her solitude because God has called her to this WITH and in HIM, or it is the greatest and most tragic absurdity a person can devise. This is the risk the hermit takes in faith and the desert is the place this is lived out.

I think there is still a great deal to say here (especially since I have not spoken of semi-eremitism), and I had not expected that, but hopefully I have begun to answer your questions. We ought not allow just anyone to call themselves hermits because doing so empties the term of meaning. It strips away the boundaries which definitions set up. Definitions are drawn on the basis of experience, they are not arbitrary. There are many many people who live lives with some degree of time alone to pray. Every person actually fits (or should fit) this picture in one way or another. Do we call all these people hermits? Of course not, no more than we call teenagers who babysit regularly Mothers. These people have time for solitude and should take it, but they do not live solitary lives with all that means. On the other hand there are many people in our world living true desert experiences already who could find the word hermit gives meaning to lives that otherwise seem to have none in worldly terms, but that cannot happen if the word hermit is emptied of meaning by dilettantes.