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.

Chronic Illness, Disability and a Question about Dispensation of Vows

[[Dear Sister,  I understand you have written that disabled hermits should seek dispensation from their vows. Why should hermits stop being hermits because the suffering gets bad? Someone blogged you said this recently so I am wondering where you get off doing that!]]

Despite the misrepresentation, I have certainly never written such a thing. Nor would I. Not only do I live with  chronic illness/disability, but I am also perpetually professed as a canonical hermit who values her profession and the witness illness/disability can lead to through the grace of God. More, one of the things I have written and published articles on in journals like Review For Religious, is chronic illness and disability as vocation --- and in fact, as a potential eremitical vocation! This blog has a number of posts on eremitism and chronic illness/disability including those that point out hermits' vows are not dispensed should they become ill or disabled after perpetual profession and positing the charity and justice of such a practice. That said, I did write a couple of posts recently which referred to chronic illness and eremitical life; one of these discussed the option of dispensation, but not because of disability or illness per se! Instead, I wrote about the obligation a hermit has, no matter their disability or suffering, to witness to eremitical life in a healthy way and as a healthy form of life --- not just generally, but for the hermit him/herself. The question at issue was and is not disability or illness, but the capacity of one to witness to a transcendent, and even more compelling or foundational health in Christ.

What I said there (cf below) was that if, because of illness or disability (and other things as well), one could no longer live or witness to the eremitical life in a healthy way -- and that means a way which edifies --- if folks got the sense that this vocation was unhealthy for one or the hermit was giving others the sense it was itself an unhealthy way of life generally, then one would might well need to consider getting their vows dispensed. A diocese would certainly need to do this in such circumstances. You see, in the main I was speaking of public vocations where responsibility for the vocation also belongs canonically to the Church, but those who have private vows (or none at all!) need also to consider the witness value of their lives. God does not call us to vocations that are unhealthy for us; he calls us to abundant life despite and even through our chronic illness and disability. Should one's vocational path fail to witness to this for some reason or other --- and should there be no evidence of rehabilitating or remediating the situation to change matters -- then it is time to consider seeking or accepting  a superior's decision to seek dispensation of one's vows.

Here is the final paragraph of the piece (the entire article can be found at: Chronic Illness as Special Challenge). I would strongly urge you to read the entire thing for yourself -- and that when you write me, you speak on the basis of what you know yourself. I would sincerely appreciate that.

[[Public profession will commit one to witnessing to eremitical life as a way to a fruitful, healthy life which sings of God's grace and strikes others as being happy. Should health demands or other life circumstances move the hermit away from being able to witness in this way in spite of the suffering involved the hermit may be required to consider seeking or accepting a dispensation of her vows. Still, while the vows are binding a person may well be bound to the elements of canon 603 and eremitical life others do not "get". It is important to be clear these vows are made freely and can, if necessary, be dispensed if the calling is no longer truly healthy for one. Meanwhile, if one's embrace of eremitical solitude is a matter of an entirely private commitment (private vows), one is always obligated to keep the superseding values of their public baptismal state. Such private vows will not, generally speaking, include any commitment to eremitical life per se nor any obligation to live under an eremitical Rule, and they may well reflect an inadequate discernment process in any case. A private commitment to eremitical life may well need to be left behind if the life proves unhealthy for the person whether or not private vows of the evangelical counsels also need to be dispensed --- something easily done by one's pastor, in every case.]]

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.

Question On Suffering Well

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I am trying to learn what it means to suffer well. I just was diagnosed with a neurological disorder and my pastor said something about learning to suffer well. I have read several of your articles on suffering and on chronic illness as vocation. I found where you wrote: [[As in Christ's life, of itself suffering is not redemptive; it is our dependence upon God, our remaining open to God's grace (God's living self) in spite of and within that suffering that is redemptive, for it implicates God into the places or realms from which he would otherwise be excluded. (Realms like sin and death are also personal realms, and God cannot simply force his way into them, or overcome them by fiat; they imply human decisions to live --- and therefore to die --- without God, and thus they come to be embodied realities which are deeply personal. ]] Could you say more about what you think it means to suffer well? You don't talk much about your own suffering. I am wondering, do you think you know how to suffer well? I think doing that must be different than I think it is because I am getting nowhere except maybe more depressed.]]

It's a great series of questions! I am genuinely sorry for your diagnosis. Please be assured of my ongoing prayers. As you may know, I have lived my entire adult life with a medically and surgically intractable seizure disorder and a form of complex regional pain syndrome (CRPS formerly called RSD) all coupled with PTSS. Through the years I have been to the OR about 14 times and have been on any number of med trials, stellate ganglion blocks, electrical nerve stimulation, depth electrodes, opioids, and innumerable lab trips and doctors' appointments, tests, treatments, therapy, etc., to control either seizures or chronic pain or deal with the psychological ramifications of these. (Never mind the broken wrist, severed ulnar tendon, frozen shoulders, etc!) Some of these were helpful and I am grateful to God for them and especially for several of my doctors, but more important than all of these in learning to "suffer well" (I dislike this term and will say why in just a moment) has been my work in spiritual direction and personal formation. By the way, listing all these things makes me feel a little like I am doing an insane thing, and speaking in a crazy way like Paul does in Friday's first reading from 2 Cor 1:18, 21-30. But Paul does it to focus on his own weakness as the counterpart of the Grace and power of God in his life and I truly would like to do the same! Except to suggest that perhaps I can empathize some with your situation, there is no real reason otherwise to make such a list!

It is important that seizures and pain be controlled as well as possible, of course. I and anyone with disabling conditions need to function as best we can. Getting appropriate medical care is simply necessary --- morally as well as medically. These days I have found a fair combination of meds and other treatments that help with control, especially with pain, but both conditions are still uncontrolled. The real key, however, to living with these (or any!!) kinds of debilitating conditions is not to learn precisely to "suffer well" where the focus is on our suffering, but instead, to learn to live well with and within one's limitations. The focus must be on living. We are each of us so much more than our medical conditions and that is especially true when we view reality from the perspective of the grace and presence of God! Moreover, I am personally convinced that so long as our focus is on our suffering and not on our living with and in Christ, so long as our work in spiritual direction (or inner growth work) and prayer is not geared toward becoming and being essentially well, whole and/or holy in spite of our medical conditions, we make no real progress. Neither will we be able to witness effectively to others if our suffering is more than a momentary focus here or there!

Now let me be clear. I don't mean to say that we are not to speak directly of our suffering with our directors or close friends, pastor, etc. We will and must do that, of course, and we will also struggle to pray and do our own inner work in spite of the suffering that accompanies it (as it will in any deep healing or inner work --- for yes, of course all that will be involved). We cannot simply stuff our feelings or deny our pain; to do so is to deny our humanity and close ourselves off to the grace of God which can come in the midst of suffering. Still, the focus of one's life and of one's work --- especially in spiritual direction --- will be on learning to live well, coming to an essential wholeness in spite of our medical conditions. This is the very nature of any vocation. Some kinds of personal work will occasion intense suffering of itself, but this is always done so that one may live fully the abundant life God wills for and offers each of us. In Friday's lection, Paul lists all the tribulations he has dealt with, all the weaknesses he has experienced and had revealed to others through the persecutions he endured, but he does so only in order to witness to life-in-spite-of his weakness and a God whose power is perfected in weakness (both God's own kenosis and our own weakness). In this way Paul never sounds like a victim; instead he is someone whose weaknesses serve to glorify God.

To What Will we Witness?

I never feel called to witness to suffering per se. Suffering is associated with sin, the state of brokenness and estrangement, alienation and self- centeredness. It stems from our separation from the God of life and wholeness --- to whatever extent that is true for God's creation in general. (I am not speaking here of personal sin, by the way; please be very clear about that when you read me here! I am referring here to an existential state we are born into, not something we cause with our own personal sin.) What I do feel called to witness to, therefore, is the life God gives me, the hope and sense of futurity that is the result of God's grace, God's presence and "time" in my time.  When I talk this way I am talking about the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God, the inbreaking of God's time, of eternity into space and time. When this happens time takes on a new character. We find it is measured in terms of hope and also of love. One of the real problems of pain and suffering is that they make of time an endless succession of empty,  meaningless, or hopeless moments with no end and no real future in sight. When God breaks into our world of space and time our perspective shifts and time --- because of love --- is transformed and, in fact, is measured by the presence of hope.

This is what I want to witness to when I am suffering, not the pain per se. This, I think is what I am called to find and witness to when I am suffering (just as usually it is what Paul witnesses to in spite of all he has suffered for the sake of the Gospel). Not all suffering is meaningful of course, but despite the senseless suffering we may experience, the real question posed is can one find the meaning in one's life and live for and from that? Hope is a function of meaningfulness (or perhaps it is vice versa!). For those of us who are people of faith (people who trust in God), we believe (we come more and more to know)  that we are loved with an everlasting love; we know that we are important to God, that our lives are meaningful in light of God's life and that we are called upon to witness to this. Whether we suffer or are feeling joy we witness to the life that is ours in spite of our own limits and pain. After all, suffering, though real and sometimes truly awful, is not the whole of our world even when it feels like it is. We must find a way to regain the perspective we have in and through Christ before our view is filled with pain --- the eschatological or Kingdom perspective we had before pain threatened to rob our lives of meaning and hope.

Maintaining a Human Perspective:

One of the quotes I have used here before is by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I think it is very helpful in maintaining the kind of perspective needed to deal creatively or fruitfully with suffering. Bonhoeffer said, [[Not everything that happens is the will of God, but inevitably, of all that does happen, nothing happens outside the will of God,]] In other words, God does not will illness or pain; he certainly does not will lives of disability and torment; however, when these things happen we will find they can be touched and transformed by the grace of God. Paul speaks of God bringing good out of all things for those who love God, and this is the same idea. We cannot blame God for our suffering. I don't for a minute believe God wills my illness or disability, but I have seen time and again that God will bring amazing fruit out of my suffering. It doesn't stop the seizures or the pain, but in the midst of all of that I have hope and my life is meaningful. Sometimes, because of my own resulting vulnerability, God is able to speak to me in new and more profound ways; when days are filled with pain I must remember this larger, more truly human perspective. So, while I don't believe God wills my suffering, I believe profoundly that he wills that I come through the suffering more whole and holy and with a greater sense of being loved than I had before I entered into it.

Again, I believe that suffering well means living well, living from and for the love  of God in a way which witnesses to hope and meaning. There's nothing easy in learning to live this way, but I am convinced it is the only way to deal with suffering effectively. Cultivating the Theological virtues (Faith, Hope, Charity or Love)  in a life characterized by suffering is critical! We have to remember that when we ourselves are mainly or even only screams of anguish,  God wills that we become instead, articulate language events which speak convincingly of God's faithfulness, love, and presence. This is what every human being is called to be, an incarnation of God's Word and Wisdom, God's love and life in Christ. If we can only be a scream of anguish, if our pain is our only discussion topic, the only thing we can talk about or focus on, we have lost perspective and need to recover it. Friends, family, therapists, spiritual directors and others can assist with this. For those with serious illnesses and disability, such persons are indispensable in helping us to maintain a truly human (and Divine) perspective --- that is, a Kingdom perspective where time is measured by hope and life by the meaning God's love gives us.

By the way, Paul only listed his litany of beatings, shipwrecks, imprisonments, etc., once in all of his writing. No one ever forgets it but in the main his writing is about the Grace of God and readers have no sense at all of Paul's life being a scream of anguish. Instead he is an incarnation of the Gospel --- a powerful proclamation of the power of God perfected in weakness (2 Cor 12:9). Those who suffer should aim at being the same!

I hope this is helpful. Please feel free to write again whenever you need.

Questions on Catholic Hermit Blog and Blogger

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I was reading Catholic Hermit: Time to Praise among other related posts on this blog, and I wondered how a diocese could allow a hermit to live in substandard living conditions for years at a time. I also wondered how they could let a consecrated Catholic hermit spend the majority of her time re-habbing an old farmhouse to use as a hermitage and then to just move on to somewhere else (she says in another post that place may have to be a shelter!) when the rehab is finished. What raised questions for me is this hermit's description of living an essentially unbalanced eremitical life of physical labor she is ill-equipped for and which increased her own chronic pain, led to or worsened unnecessary injuries and unanticipated expenses --- all without assistance or support of any kind from her diocese. Is this typical? It seems unconscionable that a diocese could treat a hermit this way --- without guidance or assistance in housing even to the point of allowing the hermit to write about maybe needing to go to a shelter lest they be "homeless" and out on the streets. How could a diocese allow this? It all reflects badly on them -- the Church I mean. What am I missing?]]

Introduction, Continuing Questions Regarding the Blog/Blogger Cited

Thank you for your questions. I will not pull punches here. I am more than a little frustrated by similar questions and by the situation which prompts them because again and again this particular blogger is responsible for confusing those who come to her blog after googling, "Catholic hermit". How ever good her reasons or motivations are, she is misrepresenting a significant vocation with her own eccentric way of living and inaccurate way of describing herself. 

However, also according to her own blogging  she is not a consecrated Catholic hermit when these terms are used in the way the Roman Catholic Church uses them. So, before I answer the questions you have asked about hermits and the responsibility of dioceses let me say once again, the author of the blog you cited is a Catholic laywoman and hermit with private vows. Her lay vocation is to be esteemed but she is responsible for her life in the way any other lay person is; the Church has not initiated her into the consecrated state and for this reason the local Church/bishop, et al, are not responsible for her in the limited way the church/bishop would be for a publicly professed/consecrated hermit.

The Real Question: The Church's Exercise of Responsibility in Regard to Those She Consecrates

Your questions, while triggered by this person's situation, are more about the Church's exercise of responsibility in regard to those she consecrates as hermits, so let me speak more specifically to these. My own sense is a Catholic (specifically a c 603) hermit's living circumstances are overseen by her bishop and delegate. (Hermits who belong to canonical institutes live their lives under the supervision of leadership in that institute.) My own delegate, for instance, understands her role as helping ensure that the life I live is a healthy one, one leading to human wholeness, holiness, and representing the best eremitical life calls for and calls forth from me for the sake of the Church and world. I keep her apprised of my spiritual life, of course, but it also means that generally speaking she is aware of my physical health and the way I live my life both in this hermitage and in my parish. She is similarly aware of my significant relationships (friendships and professional), work, intellectual pursuits, the things I do for recreation or creative outlets, and the contents of the Rule by which I live my life. (All of these concerns are my own responsibility but my delegate assists me as needed both for my own sake, and for the sake of the vocation to eremitical life itself. She does this on my behalf as well as on behalf of the local and universal Church.)

Temporary situations may cause a certain imbalance in a hermit's life. Medical situations may mean she needs assistance with personal care, trips to the doctor's, etc, for a period of several weeks or even a few months. However, living situations which are substandard as described on the "Catholic Hermit" blog and cannot be rectified in a reasonable time (several months) at an expense the hermit can truly afford would not be allowed, not least because both the hermit's health and vocation are threatened by them. 

While a diocese does not subsidize any hermitage a diocesan hermit buys, the diocese does have the right to expect the canonical hermit to make prudent investments of time, money, and energy with the help of knowledgeable professionals (realtors, attorneys, bankers, etc).  Should the diocesan hermit make a bad financial investment and be caught in a situation like that described in the blog you cited (inadequate medical care, insufficient hygiene and access to personal necessities like toilets and showers, dangerous vermin-ridden living conditions, inadequate conditions for food preparation and storage, insufficient financial resources, etc.)  they would have the right to expect the hermit to find a way out of the situation within a reasonable period of time. If she needed assistance in this a diocese could be expected to try to find people (or help the hermit locate people) who can offer some assistance but the overall responsibility remains the hermit's own. However, let it be noted, a hermit's extended inability to live his/her Rule of life might well mean, for example, the diocese will eventually need to dispense the hermit's vows.

I don't believe any diocese would allow a publicly professed hermit to buy a house to fix up as a hermitage if that project was going to take five years and more of apparently full-time effort by the hermit herself; they would especially not allow it if the hermit was merely going to sell the property at the end of that time and had nowhere to go after this. (Dioceses of course can (and do) allow a hermit to build or remodel a hermitage, but they have a right and even an obligation to set limits in terms of finances, time frames, living conditions, and so forth. The life is a contemplative one, after all; it is a healthy one and needs to be stably established. A diocese might also put off admittance to new stages of the life until a person is finished with the project and can truly live their eremitical life consistently and fully. If such a project was approved or allowed and was projected to take a year or two, a diocese might wait until its completion to admit one to perpetual profession and consecration, for instance.)

A fulltime long-term building situation would become even more objectionable if those five years involved insufficient professional assistance (skilled carpenters, licensed plumbers, electricians, etc) or skill which led to numerous injuries linked to accidents with power tools the hermit was incompetent to wield skillfully. After all, the prudential witness value of such a life is dubious; going it entirely alone when this leads to personal harm is not really typical of eremitical life nor does it witness to a stable state of life lived under a vow of religious poverty. Moreover, since it means the long-term suspension of the hermit's Rule for insufficient reasons, it lacks integrity. While dioceses allow hermits to choose and finance their own living arrangements according to what is allowed by religious poverty and their own budgets, and while manual labor is certainly permissible and even essential to the life, that hermit must be able to live her Rule in the midst of any building and re-habilitating. Some temporary adjustments in this can be made, just as may occur in times of illness or injury, of course, but these are worked out under the supervision of directors, delegates, and (sometimes) the hermit's bishop.

Most of your questions about the diocese's behavior presume the author of the blog you cited is really a Catholic hermit who is publicly admitted to the consecrated state of life and all the rights and obligations thereto. Most of them also dissolve once it is made clear this person is NOT publicly professed or consecrated and has not been entrusted with nor accepted the rights and obligations of living eremitical life in the name of the Church. Still, no, this situation is not typical! 

To reiterate, while it is required that hermits be self-supporting in some sense (this can include disability and similar aid) and take on all the expenses associated with living this life, it is possible (though not required) for dioceses to assist the hermit temporarily should emergency medical or other expenses be necessary which are more than the hermit herself can manage. What is true for consecrated hermits is that when unexpected circumstances come up the hermit and those who assist her will generally work together to determine what solutions are possible which best preserve the hermit's commitments to the Rule she is morally and legally bound to live and to canon 603 under which she lives her Rule and which her Rule "unpacks". They will do this because they all have a commitment both to the hermit and to the solitary eremitical vocation itself which they will want to see protected, nurtured, and lived as the gift of God to the Church that it is.

I hope this is helpful.

On Eremitical Life, Hiddenness, and Illness

[[Dear Sister, what happens to hermits when they become ill? If one is supposed to "be hidden from the eyes of men" then how do they manage illnesses? Can they get help from others? Can they make Doctor's visits? I have been reading a blog post [title omitted here by Sister Laurel] by a Catholic hermit who claims that illness is a real issue because the hermit is supposed to live a hidden life. Her situation (she is too weak to get up to fix meals or even to go to the doctor) raises other questions for me. How can a diocesan bishop allow a hermit to be in such circumstances?  How do you balance the hiddenness of your vocation with times of illness. Do you ever need assistance with things? How do you handle that?]]

Interesting questions! Let me start by outlining something about "hiddenness" itself. This will not only explain why "hiddenness" is not present in canon 603 while it is present in the catechism's paragraphs on eremitical life, but it will also prepare the way for thinking about your questions re illness.

Hiddenness is not a primary value:

The hiddenness of the Catholic hermit (that is, the hiddenness of the hermit whom the Church herself has admitted to public profession and consecration!!) is only implicitly defined by canon 603. While hiddenness is explicitly mentioned in the catechism, this text is not legislative or prescriptive. It is descriptive but not prescriptive in the same way the central elements of c 603 are prescriptive. This does not mean hiddenness is unimportant, but it does mean it is derived from and secondary to the elements of the life c.603 legislates. A canonical or consecrated hermit is not bound to live hiddenness; it is the result of and is shaped by the things she IS bound to live, namely, stricter separation from the world, the silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, the evangelical counsels, all supervised by the diocesan bishop and those he delegates to do so in his place. What this means is that as significant as hiddenness may be to the Catholic hermit, these other elements have priority to any notion of hiddenness; more, these other things give a better sense of what defines eremitical life!

Another way of looking at this is to note that hiddenness may or may not be edifying. It is the reasons one manifests hiddenness that are more important than hiddenness itself, I think. What I mean is that in eremitical life hiddenness is rarely a value in and of itself (in most areas of life hiddenness -- not privacy or discretion --- is a disvalue and this can be true even in eremitical life). That is especially true in Christian eremitical life where witness is a very high value in this and other forms of discipleship. (For that matter discipleship is itself a very high value which must be seen to undergird other values like solitude, silence, and penance, for instance.) Because I embrace a life of the silence of solitude and assiduous prayer and penance, I will find there is an essential hiddenness about my life, but you see, my life is a hidden one because my engagement with God and my commitment to life mainly takes place in a hermit's cell. Thus, the questions I ask myself in discerning whether I am called to this or that activity (outside the general outlines of my Rule) is rooted in whether these are commitments to God and life in and for God in my eremitical calling, not whether it fosters hiddenness or not.

To choose hiddenness for its own sake may allow or even invite one to mask all kinds of problems or label any form of separation from others as "eremitical" when they are really a refusal to engage or to live with and for others, that is, when they are a refusal to love as Christians are called to love. Self-hatred, misanthropy, selfishness, and any number of other "pathologies" can take root and/or thrive in "hiddenness from the eyes of (others)". The reason for one's hiddenness is and must be rooted in a higher and transcendent value which makes hiddenness itself meaningful as a Christian value. For the solitary Catholic (canonical) hermit some of these are the central elements of canon 603. For the Catholic (i.e., the canonical) hermit who is part of a community or congregation they are the central elements of their Rule and Constitutions.

Dealing With Illness and other Needs:

All of this helps explain why canon 603, the canon which governs (consecrated) solitary eremitical life in the Roman Catholic Church does not even mention "hiddenness from the eyes of men," while the catechism includes this. Again, the canon is prescriptive in nature; it defines the elements which are primary or essential. It prescribes these as essential --- like a doctor prescribing medications indicates these are essential. The catechism is descriptive and includes elements which are secondary or derivative --- that is, elements which are less essential, or which derive from the more primary, essential elements; these are still part of the picture drawn by someone describing eremitical life as a whole.

If I thought I was primarily or mainly called to live a life of "hiddenness from the eyes of (others)" I would struggle constantly with whether or not I could leave my hermitage to shop, attend Mass, go to doctor's visits, or even (as I did today) attend a Town hall meeting on stopping gun violence! Heck, I would have to question whether one could even be called to public vows if one is primarily called to this same hiddenness. But I am called to live an essentially Christian eremitical vocation of assiduous prayer and penance in the silence of solitude. Sometimes that means being openly and demonstrably a member of a number of human communities! Moreover, I am a Catholic hermit with a serious chronic illness. That means I have needs and must meet them if I am to live life prayerfully --- that is attentively, gratefully, and responsibly.

Like most folks I have a number of people I can call for assistance. My director and I meet regularly here at the hermitage and she is available in between meetings should I need to contact her. I belong to a parish community and am ordinarily able to attend Mass 2-3 days a week; parish members, my pastor, a number of friends, are all available should I need various kinds of assistance. I generally simply need to ask, and we will find a way to work things out together. But let me be clear here, in most situations I am the one responsible for initiating contact or the request for help. I do not expect people to read my mind and precisely because the majority of my life is undertaken in the silence of solitude, I don't expect folks to worry about me or call to check on me if they don't see me for some time.

If I become as sick as the person you describe purportedly is or was, then arrangements would need to be made for regular assistance unless hospitalization is the real need. In such a situation there would be absolutely no problem at all having people come into the hermitage to assist me and no problem if I need transportation to doctors' appointments or if I need to be hospitalized. As noted above, canonical (consecrated) hermits do NOT primarily commit to remain hidden from others. They commit to an essentially solitary vocation of Christian life and love where the foundational and defining relationship is a hidden one. The diocesan hermit's delegate or director, and ultimately, of course, her Bishop are responsible for ensuring she can (and does) live her Rule and fulfill her vows --- along with anything else which constitute essential elements of her eremitical calling.

This is true in initial discernment, through temporary vows (which should allow sufficient time for the diocese to be sure the person can truly live the life before admission to perpetual profession; they will continue to do something similar after perpetual profession as well. (While serious failures to live eremitical life after perpetual profession might actually require dispensation of vows, elder hermits becoming seriously ill after years of living eremitical life, for instance, are another matter. Though these hermits might well need to move to some form of assisted or modified solitary/communal living to deal adequately with their illness or disability no one would seriously suggest their vows should be dispensed.)

As a point of information however, the blogger you are referring to, is not a consecrated (canonical) hermit. She is a lay person living as a dedicated hermit with private vows. This means her bishop is no more directly responsible for supervising the way she lives than he is for supervising the way any other lay person in his diocese lives. Her life may raise all kinds of questions but the actions of the bishop of her diocese do not --- at least not in her regard.

I hope this is helpful.

Third Sunday of Advent Mass: The Joy of Being Called to be Sick Within the Church

Yesterday's Mass was a special one for me in a number of ways and this is so each year at my parish. It being Gaudete Sunday, the focus is on joy, of course and this means calls to rejoice and reminders of a God who has come to dwell with us and will come again in ever greater fullness. But each year with the rest of the Church we also celebrate the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick in this communal setting; anyone in the parish who struggles with illness, is preparing for or recovering from surgery, and so forth, is welcome to come forward for the Sacrament. The presider lays hands on each person's head, anoints his or her forehead and hands with sacred oil and prays a prayer for healing and the forgiveness of sins. It is a powerful and immensely beautiful sacrament and I personally receive it at least once a year.

There is an irony in all of this for me. A paradox. On the Sunday we call Joyful I (and probably many others) regularly receive the Sacrament of the Sick because of chronic illness. For me, the difficult reality of illness is now something also marked by real joy. This shift, this move to paradox, began a number of years ago now --- around the time I was doing Masters work. About then I read Prophetic Anointing by Father James (Jake) Empereur on the Sacrament of anointing. At the time I had been struggling with this illness for a few years and it was proving medically intractable (it would soon prove to be surgically intractable as well). In that book Jake Empereur spoke of Anointing of the Sick as a "vocational sacrament" or "vocational anointing" similar to the anointings associated with baptism, confirmation, and ordination. It was an image that lit a fire in my imagination and took my own reflection on chronic illness in a direction I had never considered. In time, and buttressed first, by the Apostle Paul's theology of divine power perfected in weakness, and second, by Merton's Contemplation in a World of Action, it took my life in a direction I had never conceived.

Paul's theology led me to see my own weakness as potentially sacra-mental, potentially mediatory. Jake Empereur's work led me to consider it was possible to conceive of chronic illness as a specific and vivid way one might witness to the good news of God's redemption. Though I never believed and still do not believe God wills (much less sends!) suffering or chronic illness, I came to believe that one might have a "vocation to chronic illness", or rather, a vocation to be well in Christ in spite of illness and to proclaim the Gospel especially through the lens of one's illness. In this way illness becomes transparent to the reality of redemption. Especially I drew on Empereur's idea that the Sacrament of the Sick marks us as being called to be ill within the Church! It is a vastly different thing to be sick outside the Church and apart from the Gospel than it is to be sick within the Church as a witness to God's redemption!

Merton's work allowed me to take both of these related insights in the direction of the radical expression we know as eremitism, and eventually in the direction of consecrated eremitical life. The article I wrote for Review For Religious back then was about Chronic Illness and Disability as a [potential] Vocation to Eremitical Life. I add [potential] because didn't think many would be called to this (the eremitical call is rare in absolute terms) but relatively speaking, I did think that the chronically ill and disabled were one demographic group that might have a higher percentage of such vocations than average. Experience (and a number of diocesan hermits with chronic illness) have proven that to be the case.

Shifting Personal Perceptions of the Sacrament of Anointing

The Church is still appropriating the shift in the way this Sacrament is seen. It has moved from seeing it as extreme unction given only to the dying to seeing it as a Sacrament which strengthens and makes whole in illness so that one may live more fully. My own perceptions and use of this Sacrament have also shifted. Once upon a time I received the Sacrament of the Sick just to help get me through the next weeks or months of my life, or prepare for yet one more surgery, or to help me deal with injuries or depression. Today I receive it not only because I still, and apparently always will struggle with chronic illness, but because in my life this Sacrament is very much what Prof. James Empereur noted it might well be, namely, a sacrament of vocation. Certainly the Sacrament strengthens and heals, but in my own life it marks or symbolizes a call as well, the call to be sick within the Church and therefore, to come to know and rejoice in an essential and transcendent wellness that exists in spite of physical disease and (sometimes) psychological stress and dis-ease. The symbol of anointing has overtones of royalty and priesthood, and of course, the strengthening of those who will do battle or be injured. While I always pray for whatever physical healing might come through this Sacrament, I am more focused on the witness to wholeness and abundant life it calls me to as part of a royal and priestly People. Listen to the hymn (psalm) which focuses and explicates the promise we celebrate this day:

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
    the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus ² it shall blossom abundantly,
    and rejoice with joy and singing.

The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,
    the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.
They shall see the glory of the Lord,
    the majesty of our God.

³ Strengthen the weak hands,
    and make firm the feeble knees.
⁴ Say to those who are of a fearful heart,
    “Be strong, fear not!
Behold, your God
    will come with vengeance,
with the recompense of God.
    He will come and save you.”

⁵ Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
    and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
⁶ then shall the lame man leap like a hart,
    and the tongue of the dumb sing for joy.
For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,
    and streams in the desert

This describes what God has already done in my life, and what he does every day I open that life to Him. My "real" Christmas gift is renewed every year in this way and so is my own vocation, not only as a consecrated hermit but as one whose illness is meant for the proclamation of the Gospel and thus, the healing and encouragement of others. As my profession motto says, "My (God's) grace is sufficient for you; my power is perfected in weakness." 2Cor 12:9 That is what the Sacrament of the Sick summons me to and underscores in my life.
 

As I have also noted before, we (the Church) do a fair (but not a great) job of ministering to those with serious and chronic illness but we rarely give much attention at all to what might be called a ministry OF the chronically ill and disabled! (Consider the times you have met someone in your parish who is struggling with illness and the grace associated with their struggle has allowed things to "fall into" perspective for you! Consider the times you have been encouraged, raised to gratitude for all you have been gifted with, and moved to generosity and acts of patience, perseverance, and real sacrifice because of the joy and presence of someone suffering well within your faith community! Consider how much more these folks could give if only provided some format or other within the parish community.) The Church has made a move in the direction not only of ministering to the sick but of suggesting the importance of a ministry of the sick by including the Sacrament of the Sick during Mass on Gaudete Sunday. After all, the Sacrament of Anointing is a vocational sacrament! 

For me, the Sacrament of the Sick is, in its own way, as much a part of my vocation as my profession or consecration. It marks the special character or flavor of my desert experience and call to the witness of eremitical life; had it been possible I would have wished the Sacrament could have been incorporated into some part of my consecration liturgy --- though there are many good reasons it could not have. In any case, in a special way it is the Sacrament that marks me as gift of God when discrete gifts I possess might no longer be usable or must be relinquished. It calls me to remember that illness, as real and significant as it might be in my life is never the thing I am called to witness to. Instead it commissions me to allow illness to become transparent to the grace of God that makes whole and holy while allowing weakness to be transfigured as God's power is thus more perfectly manifested in our world. The call to be sick within the Church is no small matter --- and no easy one either. Even so, despite the struggle involved it can also be a joy because what once seemed utterly meaningless has been made to be profoundly meaningful.

We often think that the Sacrament of the Sick "doesn't work unless it heals us".  But consider that the call it is associated with is described precisely in the psalm: [[then shall the lame man leap like a hart,/ and the tongue of the dumb sing for joy./ For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,/ and streams in the desert.]] It is not as necessary that our illness itself is healed in this Sacrament (or that it need be healed in order to fulfill a profound vocation to proclaim the Gospel) as it is that we ourselves are healed as persons and our this- worldly illness is transfigured with eschatological life and significance. On one level we may still be lame or dumb, and our lives seem fruitless and barren, but on another level we are called to be people who, through the grace of God, leap like a deer or sing for joy as we ourselves are made to be the fruit of grace and the wellspring of love. This is the call celebrated and mediated in the Sacrament of Anointing; how appropriate we celebrate such a powerful and paradoxical summons to be "sick within the church" on Gaudete Sunday!

Eremitism: Call to the Chronically Ill and Disabled

(First published in Review For Religious @ 1986. Reprints available in "Best of the Review #8, Dwelling in the House of the Lord, Catholic Laity and Spiritual Tradition, or through Ravensbread Newsletter for hermits)

While applauding the end of a long period of narcissistic privatism in the church, Thomas Merton in his posthumously published, Contemplation in a World of Action makes an important case for the eremitism (that is, the lifestyle of anchorites and hermits) as a significant monastic lifestyle. Almost twelve years later in the 1983 Revised Code of Canon Law makes room explicitly for the inclusion of "nonmonastic" (that is, not associated with monasteries per se) forms of eremitism through canon 603, which outlines a life "in which Christian faithful withdraw further from the world and devote their lives to the praise of God and the salvation of the world through assiduous prayer and penance." Despite this attention, this little-known and mostly ill-regarded vocation has been ignored for far too long, and it is time to ask what vision Thomas Merton, perhaps the best-known of contemporary hermits, had of the eremitical life, and what vision others have of the nature and significance of this vocation in a contemporary church. In particular, with regard to this latter vision, I would like to explore the idea that the chronically ill and disabled may represent a specific instance of the eremitic life today.

At a time when religious and consecrated persons are described within their communities and the church as Poets, Prophets, and Pragmatists, the solitary vocation has achieved new vigor and significance. In some senses the eremitic vocation has always served to challenge society and the institutional church. Always hermits find themselves on the margin of society. Always they live at extremities which, whether gently or harshly, confront and challenge others in the mainstream of things. Unfortunately, the extreme marginal position has not always been one of marked sanity. Often hermits have justifiably earned and borne the label of lunatic, eccentric, rebel, heretic, or fanatic. But truly, whether the individual hermit functions as a prophet or as poet, the vocation is an eminently pragmatic one marked by sanity and profound sense, and is often possessed of a deep and significant conservatism. In fact, the vocation of the hermit today is seen by some as preeminently a vocation of healing, wholeness, and essential well-being in a society characterized by the sickness and disorder of alienation and disaffection.

Both theoretically and practically Merton has prepared the way for this understanding, while others, mostly in the Anglican confession, have confirmed it in their own living. Contemporary hermits live on the margins of society, but they neither remain on nor belong to its periphery. Instead, through simple and uncomplicated lives of prayer and penance, lives essentially free from the "myths and fixations" (Merton) imposed by and inordinately artificial society, they occupy a central role in calling a fragmented and alienated world back to truly human values and life. Above all, it is eremitism's characteristic and conservative witness to wholeness and spiritual sanity (sanctity) which is so very vital to a contemporary church and society.

Solitude is, after all, the most universal of vocations, and a specifically eremitic vocation to solitude serves to remind us of its basic importance in the life of every person, not only as existential predicament, but, as Christian value, challenge, and call. All of us struggle to maintain an appropriate tension between independence and committedness to others which is characteristic of truly human solitude. At the same time, all of us are, in some way, part of the societal problem of alienation, whether we are members of the affluent who contribute materially to the alienation of the poor even while struggling perhaps to do otherwise, or whether we are members of the impoverished who are consigned to what Merton refers to as "the tragically unnatural solitudes" of city slums and ghettos. It is to the church in and of this society that the hermit speaks as prophetic witness. In fact, it is as prophetic witness that the contemporary hermit is part of the answer to society's problems, and it is to that answer that we now turn.

Two dominant scriptural themes are absolutely central to the eremitic vocation. The first is that of wilderness, and the second, and related motif, is that of pilgrimage or sojourn. Together these make up the desert spirituality that is characteristic of eremitism, and constitute the major elements of the powerful criticism of the world of which it is a part. Additionally, in a world which is truly more characteristically "rite of passage" than anything else, these two themes and the life of religious poverty and consecrated celibacy which they attend provide a deeply apologetic spirituality which is an effective answer to lives marked and marred by the affectation, artificiality, estrangement, futility, and emptiness of our contemporary consumerist society. Perceptively, the church today recognizes that she is made up of a "pilgrim people." Hermits are quite simply individuals who choose to stand on the edge of society as persons with no fixed place and witness to this identity with absolutely no resources but those they find within themselves and those they receive through the grace of God. Further, they attest to the fact that these elements alone are indeed sufficient for a genuinely rich and meaningful life. Above all, in a world whose central value seems to be acquisitiveness, whether of goods, status, or of persons, the hermit lives and affirms the intrinsic wholeness and humanity of a life that says, "God is enough."

Even the hermitage itself testifies to the eminent sanity of the hermit’s vocation. As Merton observed, the first function of the contemporary hermitage is “to relax and heal and to smooth out one’s distortions and inhumanities.” This is so, he contends, because the mission of the solitary in the world is, “first the full recovery of man’s natural and human measure.” He continues, “Not that the solitary merely recalls the rest of men to some impossible Eden. [Rather] he reminds them of what is theirs to use if they can manage to extricate themselves from the web of myths and fixations which a highly artificial society has imposed on them.” Above all, as Merton concludes, “the Christian solitary today should bear witness to the fact that certain basic claims about solitude and peace are in fact true, [for] in doing this, [they] will restore people’s confidence first in their own humanity and beyond that in God’s grace.” The hermitage represents for the individual and society that place where the hermit “can create a new pattern which will fulfill (her) special needs for growth. . .and confront the triple specters of ”boredom, futility, and unfulfillment, which so terrify the modern American.”

One group of people are prepared better than most to assume this prophetic role in our world,and I think may represent a long-disregarded instance of the eremitic call to solitude. These persons are members of the chronically ill and disabled, and in fact the prophetic witness they are prepared to give is far more radical than that already suggested. The idea of a vocation to illness is a relatively new one, stemming as it does from renewed reflection on the meaning of illness and the place of the sacrament of anointing in the life of the church. But in fact the idea that the ill might be called to solitude rather than the cenobium dates back at least to the Council of Vannes (463) in a phrase reading "propter infirmitatis necessitatem." If no more than a suggestion, there is at least a similarity between this older notion and the one I am presenting here. The difference, however, stems from the fact that, far from suggesting a somehow inferior cenobitic religious life which must be accommodated by extraordinary provisions for solitude, I believe the call to chronic illness is itself, at least for some, an eremitic vocation to "being sick within the church" as a solitary whose witness value is potentially more profound because such a person is generally more severely tyrannized by our capitalistic and materialistic world.

In the first place, the chronically ill, whose physical solitude is not so much clearly chosen as it is accepted, testify to the poverty of images of human wellness and wealth that are based upon the productivity of the individual in society. They are able to clearly challenge such images and testify further to the dual truth of the human being's poverty and genuine human possibilities. Humanity possesses not only great richness, but an innate poverty as well, which is both ineluctable and inescapable --- a poverty in the face of which one must either find that God is enough or despair. It is a poverty that cannot be changed by a life of busy productivity or by any infusion of accomplishment, and it is a poverty that points to the essentially paradoxical "unworthwhileness" and simultaneous infinite value of the human life. The chronically ill and disabled live this "poverty of worthwhileness" and yet witness to the fact that their lives are of immeasurable value not because of "who" they are (Status) or what they do, but because God himself regards them as precious.

In the second place, the chronically ill person who accepts his or her illness as a vocation to solitude is capable of proclaiming to the world that human sinfulness (existential brokenness and alienation) can and will be overcome by the powerful and loving grace of God. Once again this is a radical witness to the simple fact of divine sufficiency, and it is a witness that is sharpened by the reintegration achieved in the recontextualization of one's illness.

In this recontextualization, illness assumes its rightful position as rite of passage, which, although difficult, need be neither devastating nor meaningless, and it appears clearly as a liminal (or boundary) experience which testifies to transcendence. In accepting this as a call to solitude, the chronically ill person is freed from the false sense of self provided by society, and, in the wilderness of the hermitage, assumes the identity which God himself individually bestows. And finally, the chronically ill solitary says clearly that every person, at whatever stage in his or her own life, can do the same thing --- a task and challenge which eventually eludes none of us.

Today the church has moved to appropriate more completely a lifestyle that has been part of her life since the 3rd century, and one which is rooted in her Old Testament ancestry. It is my hope that those doing spiritual direction, hospital chaplaincy, and so forth, will familiarize themselves further with the spirituality which undergirds this significant way of life, and, whether dealing with the chronically ill or not, maintain an attitude of openness and even of encouragement to their clients' exploration of eremitism as a possible vocation. This is particularly true with regard to those whose vocation "to be sick within the church" may represent a vocation to eremitical solitude. As Merton concludes, in a society fraught with dishonesty and exploitation of human integrity, the Christian solitary stands on the margin and,

[[in his prayer and silence, explores the existential depths and possibilities of his own life by entering the mystery of Christ's prayer and temptation in the desert, Christ's nights alone on the mountain, Christ's agony in the garden, Christ's Transfiguration and Ascension. This is a dramatic way of saying that the Christian solitary is left alone with God to fight out the question of who he really is, to get rid of the impersonation, if any, that has followed him to the woods.]]

Breaking away from the exorbitant claims and empty promises of contemporary society is crucial for each of us. The solitary, and especially the chronically ill solitary, fulfills this challenge with special vividness.